Swordplay

Part 8

"I hope you've got plenty of friends for the move," the nurse said. "Your fiancé will not be able to lift anything heavy for the next four to six weeks." She took the fever-tubelet from Tord's mouth. "A male nurse will change the dressing in a minute." She hurried off.

"Why don't the two of you go downstairs into the Café and have a piece of cake on me," said Tord to Franka. "My purse is under the bag of dirty laundry in the wardrobe."

Franka pulled up her eyebrows and looked at him. Then, she blushed, crawled out of bed and donned a bathrobe. "Of course. We're already gone."

"Wait a moment." Moira walked over to Tord's bed. There was something, she urgently needed to know. "Did you know that someone broke into the museum?"

Tord's eyes widened. "Was a lot stolen?"

"One box with weapons from Professor Solveighs last dig. It looked as if the thieves knew exactly what they wanted. Didn't you work for the professor?"

"The box with the most valuable finds?" Tord paled and clenched his fists. "I'm bursting. Now, we can't examine the artifacts, and science will lose insight in a long forgotten time." He ground his teeth.

Moira swallowed. Her next question was hard to ask. She bent forward and whispered so Franka couldn't hear her. "You weren't part of it, were you?"

Tord sat up with a jerk. "I'm no thief. What are you thinking! I didn't even know about the burglary before you told me."

Moira sighed with relief. He knees wobbled and her voice was hoarse. "I'm glad about that."

Franka stepped beside the bed and pressed Tord gently back into the cushions. "You are not allowed to get excited, honey. We need you save and sound back home in a few days." She patted her belly. Then, she grabbed Moira's arm and dragged her along out into the corridor. "Come."

Moira wodered about the need to hurry. "I didn't mean to excite Tord. Really."

When a male nurse hurried past them into the room they had just left, Franka let go of her arm. "I know."

"Why the hurry then. I don't really fancy a piece f cake."

"Me neither. We'll wait in the lounge."

"Why can't we wait in the room until the nurse is done?"

"Tord has a rather deep gash on the inside of his thigh. He doesn't like people watch when they change the dressing." Determined, Franka stormed along the u‑shaped corridor. Her voice echoed eerily through the long, empty hall. "Our unborn very nearly escaped the fate of a single child. Even worse. It nearly would have had to grow up without a dad."

"Wow. What happened?" Moira opened the door to the lounge that was empty.

"He didn't tell me all. Maybe he didn't want to scare me." Franka sighed with relief when she sat in a comfy chair near the window.

"He hasn't got a clue how resilient you are." Moira looked out of the window to the parking lot -- an exhilarating view for those who enjoyed paved areas, stunted bush monocultures, and carpistos in all colors and shapes. The only pleasantness was a muscular, young man in Jeans and T-Shirt with short-cut, black hair and slightly longer bangs, who hurried over the parking lot. Moira wondered that she found him even more attractive than Lif. Most likely, the list of his love affairs was as long as Lif's. Dissatisfied with herself, she shook out her brown hair and turned to Franka. "At least, Tord isn't really sexy. With guys like the one down there, a divorce would be pre-programmed."

"Well, I think Tord's very sexy." Franka sah looked down at the man and shook her head. "He looks quite nice, too. Don't be so pessimistic all the time."