Introduction to the story:
I have tried to write a story that tell you how Greg's grandparents ended up in the US, and how they ended up being the Hojem's and the Olaf's (And no Sanders?) even though Olaf is no surname.


GRISSOM: Your mother's maiden name is Hojem, correct? Hojem is Norwegian?
GREG: Yeah. And you know, my grandfather got tossed from Norway for getting my
grandmother pregnant before they got married. To this day, he still tells me
"som man reder, så ligger man.
GREG: "One must lie in the bed one has made."

Enjoy.

SOM MAN REDER, SÅ LIGGER MAN
(one must lie in the bed one has made)

PROLOGUE

Norway, April 9th 1940

Not a ripple was seen on the water surface. The white painted houses surrounding Drøbak were surrounded by darkness and no lights illuminated the dark reef in the middle of the fjord.

It was 4 a.m. and the morning mist was floating above the sea, hiding the monumental ship gliding through the water.


Birger Eriksen was on duty on Oscarsborg Fortress obediently keeping watch over the inlet.

His eyes caught sight of a movement. It was a ship and it did not belong in his fjord. It was outside nature's normal early morning waking.

Messages had been received; three large ships and more small battle ships were on the way to the fjord.

More messages were sent and received; some said the ships were German.

Colonel Birger Eriksen looked over his men stationed at the canons named Aron, Josva and Moses. Their orders were to stay put until he gave the order to fire.

A warning shot was launched, but none of the ships slowed down.

"Fire," Colonel Eriksen's voice was firm, and Josva spat out a 350 kg shell. At 4.21 am, the sea caught fire.

The battleship Blücher, that until a few moments ago had sailed proud on the water, sank with the bow down and two propellers up in the air. Heavy amounts of oil leaked out and lit up angry flames. Thousands of men were eaten by the fire or swallowed by the ship on its way down.

50 km further north, at Vika Terasse in Oslo, Foreign Minister Koth and the German messenger Curt Brauer sat facing each other across an old wooden table.

The electricity was out and candles lit the room giving it a glow which did not fit the gravity of the situation.

The smell of stearine was heavy in the room.

Brauer had brought documents issued by the German High Command concerning demands they were making of the Norwegian government.

Norway was to give up control ofits infrastructure and to put down all military resistance. If they did, Norway would be considered a political independent Kingdom.

"Wir wollen unsere Selbtändighet währen," Koth stated after a short consultation with Prime Minister Lie and his government.

"Dann wird es Kampf geben. Nicht kann euch retten," Braüer warned him.

„Wir beugen uns freiwillig nicht, der Kampf ist bereits im Gange."

The unthinkable had happened, Norway was at war.


CHAPTER ONE: CHRISTMAS IN SAN GABRIEL
Dec 23rd, Evening

San Gabriel is normally chilly in December but this year, it was a record low. There was even a log burning in the fire place and the whole family was assembled in front of the fire. Each was holding a cup of warm liquid to drink. Nick was sipping at the dark blend that Greg served him; a hot cup of gløgg, sprinkled with almonds and raisins. This was the child friendly version of the Norwegian spicy Christmas beverage, but tomorrow they would be serving the grown up version, made of one part gløgg and one part red wine.

Celebrating Christmas in California with Greg's family wasn't as strange as i not /i celebrating Christmas in Texas with his family. Nick had no doubts about coming with Greg this year. It was something he wanted to do and he was happy to do it; it was just i different. /i

Mostly it was strange how they did things in a slightly different way, not big differences; just minor things. Like how they were to have Christmas dinner on the 24th ; Christmas eve. That's when they celebrate Christmas in Norway, and they had continued that tradition even in USA. Not that they didn't celebrate the American Christmas on the 25th, they did that as well. So, it wasn't so much i different /i as it was i more /i .

Although, it was i less /i in a way as well; less people at least.

Nick comes from a huge family, and even with some siblings always away celebrating with their in-laws, the rest of them, all bringing their extended families, makes a huge crowd.

Momma loves spending days in advance making and storing up food. She complains about it, but deep down she enjoys every minute. She knows that this food will be eaten by her large and loving family.

Nick also loves it, he loves everything about Christmas. He loves the smells, the sounds, the expectations; but most of all, he loves the expressions on his nieces and nephews faces when they open their gifts; he even loves the hours he spends shopping for those gifts.

He knows that did surprise Greg when they first started going out, how Nick loved shopping for Christmas gifts. It's true he isn't fond of shopping, but shopping for gifts is something completely different. That's about pleasing someone he loves, and Nick loves. He has an enormous capacity for loving.

Sometimes he loves so much that it hurts. There simply isn't enough time and money to be with everyone he loves as much as he wants. So he misses his family when he celebrates Christmas without them. But he does it out of love; love for Greg.

Greg has grown to be the single most important person in his life. The one that grounds him, the one that's there for him when he wakes up in the middle of the night bathed in his own sweat trying to escape the memory of a plexi glass box, or when he crashes on the sofa exhausted after a particular tough case.

Greg . Greg was the one who taught him to love himself.

He has always gone out of his way to please everyone else, but he has never really loved himself. Don't misunderstand, he doesn't have low esteem. He knows he is a good person, always tries to do the right thing, takes pride in his job and he can even admit he is good looking, but love? Nah, love is for others.

It was Greg that showed him he was special. It was Greg that showed him that someone could love him above everyone else. It was Greg that taught him that someone was willing to spend the rest of their life with him. Him… Nick Stokes… him.

And he would do the same for Greg. That's why he's here instead of home in Texas. That's why he is surrounded by Greg's family doing their strange traditions, drinking their funny drinks. And he loves it, because he is surrounded by love.

Living in California, they made sure of always using Californian wine with the gløgg. It gave a pleasant warmth to the drink and a feeling of pride in their hearts. It felt good uniting their roots with their present home in one traditional drink.

Before he turned 21 Greg was given only the non-alcoholic version, unless it was papa Olaf serving. After he turned 16, Greg usually made sure that it was Papa Olaf that served.

When Greg was young, there were seven sharing the gløgg in celebration of the holiday, in the two story home close to the northern edge of San Gabriel. The house belonged to the Sanders family; Greg and his parents, Lisbet and Michael. One of the four bedrooms and the only one on the first floor was occupied by Greg's maternal grandparents, the Hojems.

They had lived with their daughter since Greg was born. At first it was to help out when he was an infant, and his mother had trouble taking care of a child. Then they stayed when Erik Hojem had his heart attack, and his daughter wanted to keep them under the same roof.

Greg's paternal grandparents, Geoffrey and Benedikte Sofie Sanders would fly in from Wisconsin. Now both they and Grandma Hojem were gone and there were only four of them to keep the family traditions. Nick was a welcome addition to the celebration.

Greg's paternal grandparents lived at the farm where Benedikte Sofie Rasmussen once arrived with her parents from Norway so many years ago. She grew up an only child, and became a strong woman helping her father take care of what he had built with his own hands. She wasn't born an only child, but her brother Olaf Kristoffer died of tuberculoses at the age of three. They named the farm after him, and she stayed at the Olaf farm until the day she died.

She was lucky. Being a woman and the only living child, she could easily have had her childhood home sold if there was no one to take over when her parents passed away.

But Benedikte Sofie Rasmussen met her man at age nineteen, and he was a good man.

Geoffrey Sanders, born and raised in Wisconsin by Norwegian and Scottish parents, was one of many brothers, and he had no farm to inherit. He was more than happy to work and live on his wife's parent's farm as long as they lived. When they died, he continued to honor their home by adding more fields and growing new types of corn. The farm was not big, but it was enough to feed his wife and two sons.

It was a happy day when their eldest son took an interest in working the farm and so it was with an easy heart the youngest boy married his California girl and moved to San Gabriel.

Influenced by the name of the farm, young Greg Sanders started calling his paternal grandparents, Papa and Nana Olaf at age three, and the name stuck from then on.

When Greg was a child, he used to love sitting on the floor next to his Grandpa Hojem's feet while listening to his stories about Christmas in the homeland, and how they had tried to keep those traditions even in a foreign country.

Grandpa would get sentimental and shed a tear when thinking about all he had left back home. As the story continued, his English slowly turned into Norwegian.

Grandma and Lisbet would add to the story with details and English translations so that little Greg could follow the story. When he grew older, he would add to the story himself, as he then knew it by heart.

They always listened to his tales while sitting by the newly decorated tree on the day before Christmas.

Ever since Greg was little and made decorations with his grand mother, they had decorated the tree together on the 23rd and sat down afterwards drinking gløgg. The tree would be small, freshly cut pine and filled with Norwegian flags and bright white candles.

Grandpa Hojem would always tell them about how they had real burning candles when he was a child, and how he one year snuck in to light one in the morning before his mother got up. When his father found out, he was yelled at so bad that he never dared to light another candle again.

Nowadays they had the electrical candles, but they had to be white, and they needed to be authentic looking.

Grandpa Hojem was an old man now. His hair was grey and his skin was wrinkled but his mind was completely clear.

His hands might be shaking but never his thoughts. He left most of the storytelling to Greg these days, but once in a while they all wanted to hear the familiar stories of the old days back in Norway; stories that bear the memories of who we are; experienced by one generation but carried on by generations to come.

"Hey Grandpa, why don't you tell Nick how you guys came to the US?" Greg looked up at his grandfather with a smile that reflected the young boy he once was sitting at the very same spot.

"Sure you're up to that, søtnos?"

"Sure am, I love that story."

"It's getting late, Sweetie, maybe I should wait."

Grandpa Hojem glanced at the old grandfather clock ticking on the wall noticing it was getting close to ten. The clock had arrived in America years after he had and was one of the few pieces of furniture he had from his old home in Oslo.

"Why don't you start, and then you can continue tomorrow?" Greg was eager to hear the story again, and even more eager for Nick to learn about his family history. All he had told him so far was that they had come here after the war and that Grandma was pregnant at the time. He wanted Grandpa to tell the story himself.

"Please," Nick dared to add, he wanted to hear the story, and couldn't think of anything he rather wanted to do right now.

"Okay," Grandpa Hojem smiled back at him. "Greg, why don't you get the album over there?"

By the album, he meant an old book full of photos and newspaper clips collected from Norway and his first years in America.

The book was thick with papers sticking out from nearly every page. It was worn by time and the numbers of loving hands that had gone through the pages looking at the pictures over and over. It was marked with ancient coffee stains.

Grandpa opened the book and gently stroked his hands over the first black and white picture in the book. It was a grainy picture of a young couple in front of a small wooden house. It was a small home, only containing two rooms, but the outdoor was never ending. The field stretching out behind the house was endless, covered with barley and potatoes.

Two young people were captured in time. He was tall, blond and stalwart. He had grown from a boy to a man, and he had crossed the sea to reach the land where he had the possibility to take care of and provide for his family.

She was fair with long, dark hair. Her clothes were poor and they didn't seem to shield her from the wind that ruffled her hair and threatened to blow his hat away. But eyes stared straight at you through the camera, telling you that she was woman enough to fight some wind and to stand by her man, even though she was miles away from home. They were a team, and they were good.

The man held a gentle arm around his young wife's waist, and her belly was heavy with child.

"I came to this country with few earthly goods" Grandpa Hojem began with a clear voice, "I had the woman I loved by my side and our future wrapped up safe in her belly."

The year was 1945, but our journey had started 5 years prior, in the land across the sea."

TBC

Translations:
Stearine - a hard, slow-burning vegetable oil commonly used in Europe. US candles are made from paraffin or bee's wax.

The dialouge in German:
we want to keep our sovereignty.
Then you will see fight. That cannot be helped.
We do not surrender freely. The fight has already started.

gløgg mulled wine
Søtnos a common nickname on your loved ones, a nick name that has excisted in generations. Means something like "sweet nose"