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The Trumpet of Nordland

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Petter Dass

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“They each took a plate and helped themselves to a feast that looked as if it had been prepared for a magazine layout. There was a salad sprinkled with fresh flowers- Isabel said they were baby pansies, nasturtium and angelica. The spread included plates of artisan cheeses and raw and grilled vegetables, big chafing dishes of fragrant casseroles, berries and apples with a variety of sauces, an array of local wines and water from Calistoga. The abundance was almost overwhelming to Tess.”

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“At its lowest and most common level the “God has a plan” folks are those who settle for the least comforting of cold comforts. Why did little Johnny get run over by the garbage truck in the alley? Because God has a plan. There. Feel better now? And at its highest and most rarified level a plateful of blood-rare metaphysics provides a chewy, fragrant, vitamin-packed repast for the mind/heart willing to dig in and feast.”

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“For years I wondered what was her curious power, her ability to attract all kinds of people to her and to use them for her own ends, often with their knowledge. i think it was that people liked watching and being with someone who enjoyed life as much as Sylvia seemed to enjoy it. She squeezed all the juice from the orange, or, to change the figure, drained the cup to the leaves, the very dregs.”

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“With a curt nod, Vane strode in. And stopped dead. Patience was in the hall, waiting- the sight literally stole his breath. As his gaze, helplessly, slid over her, over the soft green merino pelisse, severely cut and snugly fitted, its upstanding collar framing her face, over the tan gloves and half boots, over the pale green skirts peeking beneath the pelisse's hem, Vane felt something inside him tighten, click, and lock. Breathing was suddenly more difficult than if someone had buried a fist in his gut. Her hair, glinting in the light streaming in through the door, was coiffed differently, to more artfully draw attention to her wide golden eyes, to the creaminess of her forehead and cheeks, and the delicate yet determined line of her jaw. And the soft vulnerability of her lips.”

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