She had managed to hold it together until they had arrived at the bullpen. The thought of facing her sympathetic coworkers telling her it wasn't her fault pushed her over the edge and she had run sobbing into the women's room. Now, twenty minutes later, she was trying in vain to repair the damage with cold water and makeup.
A timid knock on the door made her jump. "Yes?" Her voice shook.
The door opened a crack and Larry Fleinhardt peered into the room. "Megan? Are you alone in here?"
"Larry!" The tears started again and she pulled the door open and embraced him. "I thought you were on the way to Oslo."
"Don called me. I was able to book two seats on tomorrow's flight instead."
"Two?" Megan sniffed.
Larry took a step back and touched her cheek. "As of this moment, you are on vacation. I want you to come with me to Oslo."
Megan shook her head. "I can't... "
"Don has already gotten a week of leave approved for you. But if you'd rather not accompany me..."
"Oh, Larry, I would love to, but it's winter! Oslo is near the arctic circle! I don't have anything to wear."
"There's a wonderful ski shop on the way to your apartment. I am planning on buying you everything you need. Besides, Norway isn't any colder than the northeast."
"But you're going to a string theory conference. I don't know anything about string theory."
Larry smiled and touched her cheek. "I would love to teach you. But I would never impose upon you during your vacation. There are wonderful attractions for you to see in Oslo, and I took the liberty of booking us on a little getaway after the conference."
Megan narrowed her eyes. "What if I don't have a passport?"
Larry blushed and looked down at his feet. "I... uh... took the liberty of asking Don, and he said you have a perfectly valid passport."
"Professor Fleinhardt, you are taking a lot of liberties."
"I am so sorry, Megan. I never meant.."
She threw her arm over his shoulders. "Come on. We have some shopping to do, and I need to find my passport."
Megan felt like she had stumbled upon one of Larry's wormholes and dropped into another dimension. Four days ago, she had been sobbing in the women's room in Los Angeles. Now she and Larry were in Tromso, a lively Norwegian city north of the arctic circle, preparing to take a trip by reindeer-drawn sleigh to view the aurora borealis.
Their driver and guide held out a mitten-clad hand and helped Megan into the sleigh. "Madame," he said grandly. "Sir.. " he stopped and stared wide-eyed at Larry. "Dr. Fleinhardt?"
"Why, yes," Larry said, obviously not recognizing the man.
"I saw you at the conference yesterday. I'm Turi Kvitfjell, from the physics department at Tromso University. I thoroughly enjoyed your talk."
"Thank you! I'm sorry I didn't recognize you..."
Turi laughed. "Yes, I'm afraid my traditional attire is a bit different from the normal university wear. I am a mild-mannered professor by day, and a representative of the Sami culture by evening."
"Sami?" Megan asked.
"Yes, Ma'am. You probably know us better as Laplanders. However, like many indigenous people, we're best known by a name we see as insulting." He smiled. "But I recognize the realities of life. At any rate, let me give you my little spiel as you are getting settled. The Sami people are native to the northern regions of Scandinavia. Reindeer have provided my people with a livelihood since the beginning of time. They give us transportation, food, milk, clothing, even building materials. My people have over four hundred words for reindeer. There is a separate term for a male reindeer in each year of its life."
Larry nodded, "Similar to the Inuit and their hundreds of words for snow."
Turi smiled as he took his place on the sleigh. "We also have many words for snow. But reindeer are more important to us than snow." He made a soft noise and gave the reins a little flick. The sleigh jolted as the reindeer began to walk. Turi looked over his shoulder. "Enjoy the ride. If you'd like to stop anywhere, or if you have any questions, let me know."
Megan leaned against Larry, her head on his shoulder. "I don't believe I've ever seen anything quite like this. Thank you for insisting I come along on this trip."
"My dear, if I had my way, you would be at my side twenty four hours a day, seven days a week."
Megan sat up, gave Larry a dazzling smile and leaned forward to kiss him. "You are the sweetest man I've ever met." She snuggled against him again. "Have you ever seen the northern lights before?"
"Just once. From space. It was one of the most incredible things I had ever seen, and I never missed you more than I did in that moment. Ever since then, I have wanted to see them again... with you."
"And here we are," Megan murmured. They rode in silence, enjoying the view of the fjord on their left and the mountains surrounding them. "It's amazing that it's so warm this far north."
"The Gulf Stream brings warm water north along the eastern coast of North America, then the North Atlantic Current grabs some of that warm water and brings it toward Iceland and Norway. While the climate here is temperate, other locations at the same latitude are ... but you're not interested in the scientific explanation, are you?"
Megan shrugged. "Not usually. But I love hearing you explain things. So tell me about the northern lights. They're related to solar activity, right? Does the sunlight bounce or something?"
As the evening turned to night and they rode further from the city lights of Tromso, Larry explained the phenomenon. "Electrically charged solar particles are sent into space by solar flares and other explosions on the surface of the sun. As they speed away from the sun, some of them are captured by the earth's magnetosphere and are drawn toward the north and south poles. When those particles collide with the gases in the earth's atmosphere, they emit photons – flashes of light."
"And those flashes of light are the northern and southern lights. What did it look like from space?"
"It was as if the earth were a marble and someone had painted little rings of green phosphorescent paint at the very top and bottom. Only the rings were shifting and pulsing."
"Like that?" Megan slipped her hand out from under the fur and pointed. Curtains of light, green, pink, red, purple, danced across the arctic sky. "It's like a rainbow," she gasped, "only a whole lot bigger."
"Actually, it's nothing like a rainbow at all. Remember, we're looking at millions of minuscule explosions of gas and solar particles. Two factors create the colors – the gas, whether it be oxygen, nitrogen or whatever, ignites in its own distinctive color."
"So you can tell what gases are in the atmosphere by what colors you see?"
"Not just that. The altitude of the explosions also influences the colors. I could explain it, but I think I'd rather just sit back and enjoy it."
"Sounds good to me."
So they leaned back, nestled comfortably against each other, snuggling under the warm, tickly fur blanket and enjoyed the view. Megan suddenly thought of a little girl in Los Angeles who would never enjoy anything ever again, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
Silently, Larry turned toward her and kissed the tear just before it fell. "You can't undo what's happened, Megan. Once you've regained your balance, you can go back to standing in the breach. But for now, just rest and let go of the pain."
Megan sniffed and smiled at Larry through her tears. "Easier said than done."
"Easier said than done... that's true of anything worthwhile, my beloved."
They leaned back, gazing in awe at the light show surrounding them. After a few moments, Larry said, "Someone once called the aurora borealis an 'interplay of elementary particle physics with superstition, mythology, and fairy tales.'"
Megan chuckled.
"What?"
"That description reminds me just a little bit of a certain physics professor."
"How so?"
"Remember how you invited me out for our first date? You suggested we could partake of some terpsichorean delights." She kissed him on the forehead. "This brain of yours is the northern lights – an interplay of physics and mythology. And that is just one of the many things I love about you."
For once, Larry Fleinhardt was at a loss for words.
Author's note: Larry was quoting Franck Pettersen, a Norwegian scientist. I wasn't able to find out much about him, but I do believe he taught at the University of Tromso. The photo in my icon was taken from a photo by Donald Getschman, posted at www.northern-lights.no