The drive from Bern airport to the tiny town of Iseltwald always felt like the longest leg of his journey. Jeong-hyeok marveled at this as he guided the rented Grand Turismo, BMW along the narrow Swiss roads. It had taken over 20 hours to make the disjointed journey from Pyongyang to Zurich. Followed by a three-hour layover before he could fly to Bern. The two-hour drive from Bern airport should have been nothing. Yet somehow, time had become elastic, stretching endlessly.
He pressed the gas a little harder. The speed needle shivered up to 190. He could hear Se-ri's voice chiding him; "Jeong-hyeok, be careful! There are speed limits for a reason!" She'd give him that wide-eyed look of frustration and hiss softly beneath her breath. He grinned. Maybe he'd tell her how fast he'd driven, just to evoke her grumbling. Then he'd touch her - a hand to her cheek or her waist, it didn't matter where, the effect was the same – she'd lose her train of thought, her breathing would quicken, her eyes would darken and she'd be lost. He loved watching the change in her. He loved seeing the evidence that he wasn't caught in this sticky web of emotion alone.
A truck passed going the opposite way. It was the first vehicle he'd seen in miles. In its wake he was left again with the empty gravel road and the soft green patchwork of fields. Occasionally the road would tilt and he could look down the mountain at the lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun as though it had been strewn with diamonds. It looked like paradise, he thought vaguely, before his thoughts turned again to his favourite subject.
He hoped she'd be at the house. There was no way to communicate with her before these trips, but he knew if he stopped at the house and found it empty she'd have stuck a printed itinerary to the fridge door. Probably decorated with the hearts, flowers and Swarovski crystals that she liked to doodle.
He could call her, let her know he was coming, but that look of shock followed by unbridled delight when she first caught sight of him was food his soul could dine off for months to come. He grinned again. God, he couldn't wait to hold her. If she was home he was taking her straight to bed, schedule be damned.
The village began with a smattering of houses. Small brick affairs with window flower boxes, brightly coloured shutters and cats that lounged proudly in patches of sunlight. Along the high street he saw the fishmonger and cheese shop doing brisk business. He slowed to match the languid pace of the traffic but tapped impatient fingers against the wheel. Once he had cleared the shops, the village square where market traders were beginning to pack up their wares, the village hall and the local pub, the road cleared and he hit the gas for the curving road that led up to their home.
Home. He shook his head at the thought. When he was with Se-ri he felt like a puzzle piece that had been tucked into place, a key slotted in the matching lock, the right notes played at the right tempo with proper feeling. If she was in Antarctica it would feel like home to him. Yet he spent 50 weeks of the year away from her, away from home. It was love and loyalty that kept him in Pyongyang. He was all his parents had, it would break their hearts to lose him. And he didn't begrudge them the 50 weeks. This was the only compromise possible right now. But it was hard to live with your heart on the other side of a ceasefire line.
He braked sharply. The lone sheep that had sprang on to the road stopped, nosed the ground in confusion then trotted off to sample the grass on the other side. Jeong-hyeok gave a quick scan of the area for the rest of the flock. Should he check the sheep's tag? Maybe the farmer was looking for it. But the pull for home, that magnetic tug of needing to be with Se-ri won over his altruism. "I hope you find your friends," He told the sheep before screeching off.
The house came into view slowly. It was perched in a nook of the hillside and sat there as though it had always belonged, a beautifully florid part of the landscape. He didn't ask Se-ri how much she had paid for it. She was cheerfully liberal with money. Another thing he loved about her. She wasn't consumed with wealth, she just loved the challenge of attracting more of it. She spent her money joyously, numbers he could never imagine. He was confident she'd never run short, Se-ri's Choice went from strength to strength.
He parked in front of the garage hoping she hadn't heard the engine. He left his bags in the trunk, too excited to do more than lock the door – habit since the residents of Iseltwald rarely locked up anything – and bounded up the stairs that circled the house.
The front door was open. Light poured into the open plan living / dining room reflecting off the wooden floors and bouncing off the soft-tone walls. The scent of tofu stew surprised him. Se-ri could microwave a dish but he'd never known her to cook anything. She ordered food from a local chef to supplement the days he didn't feel like cooking. Yet, a covered pot sat on the stove while a chopping board and the remnants of vegetables pointed to recent cooking. A new electric device took up a corner of the countertop flashing green. Had she hired a cook to visit the house? He hoped not. They could eat crackers with jam for the next two weeks for all he cared, he just wanted her to himself.
She wasn't in the bedroom or out on the deck, though a new rocking chair sat there covered with a hastily dumped chenille blanket. There was rectangular basket beside the chair lined with yellow fabric. He frowned as he made his way around to the back garden. The frown deepened when the soft hum of voices reached him. Did she have a guest?
He turned the corner – and stopped. Her mother looked up first.
"Ri Jeong-hyeok!" She exclaimed.
He blinked for a second, then bowed, politeness an automatic reflex that required no thought. But as soon as he straightened his eyes went to Se-ri. She held a bundle to her chest, the top of her dress was unbuttoned and her left breast lay exposed. He drifted closer, his heart pounding. His gaze moved to Se-ri's face. Her eyes were tired, but the smile she gave him was so suffused with joy his mouth curved up in response. He knelt down beside her. She tilted her arms. A baby swaddled in blankets suckled contentedly, unbothered by its new admirer. Jeong-hyeok felt tears prickle behind his eyes. His breath stuck in his throat. He reached out a hand, ran gentle fingers against the baby's feather-soft black hair. A tear forced it's way out and ran down his cheek. He looked at Se-ri in wonder.
She nodded at him, answering the question he couldn't find the words to ask.
"He's four months old." Her voice was scratchy with tiredness. "He needed a name to travel, otherwise I would have waited for you to see him first." She looked down with another one of those love-laden smiles. "I named him Ri Mu-hyeok."
He jerked at the sound of his older brother's name.
She looked up at him in concern. "Is that alright? We can change it if-"
He put a hand to her cheek, the other still resting against his son's head. "Thank you," He rasped.
YOU ARE READING
Surprise!
Romance"He pressed the gas a little harder. The speed needle shivered up to 190. He could hear Se-ri's voice chiding him; "Jeong-hyeok, be careful! There are speed limits for a reason!" She'd give him that wide-eyed look of frustration and hiss softly bene...
