A Blessed Child (24 page)
Chapter 84
When Rosa died, there was no one to comfort him. Isak turned around and around and bellowed. Where was relief to be found? Laura couldn’t cope with having anything to do with him just then.
I can’t do it, Laura told Erika.
Isak wanted to sit on the settee and hold her hand and stroke her face and tell her she was like her mother. She had her mother’s eyes and her mother’s hair. And that was the last thing Laura wanted.
“He was grieving for a woman and I was grieving for a mother, and we couldn’t both grieve together. The very thought of that sort of intimacy with him! Isak should have realized that.”
Erika could not comfort him, either. She went to visit him in Stockholm on one occasion and they went to a restaurant near his flat for dinner. The restaurant was virtually empty. Erika drank a glass of wine. He drank water. His hands were shaking, and it occurred to Erika that he could not carry out his work with hands that were shaking like that. The restaurant played the same song over and over again: a slow, mournful pop song. Erika knew the song and told Isak the name of the woman singing, but immediately regretted it. He did not care what the singer was called. They could hear laughter from the kitchen. Isak ate a few mouthfuls; it was like eating stones, he said. He put down his knife and fork, looked at Erika, tried to smile, and said: “It’s wretched, the whole thing.”
A few weeks later, he sold his flat in Stockholm and the one in Lund and moved to Hammarsö for good. He resigned his professorship at the university. It was over.
“I haven’t done anything practical with my hands for a long time,” he told Erika on the phone, “and now I’m going to put my house in order.”
After that, nobody heard from him. He moved to Hammarsö and fell silent. In the end, Erika rang Simona.
“Is he still alive?”
“Yes,” said Simona. “He’s renovating.”
“All on his own?”
“Yes. Basically. He’s getting a bit of help from a carpenter and a plumber. Two old codgers who’ve lived on the island all their lives. They all have coffee together. I think it’s because of them he’s taken up smoking. But he’s doing most of it by himself; basically, he’s on his own.”
“My father started
smoking
?”
“Yes.”
“What else does he do?”
“He goes to church every Saturday evening to listen to the summoning bell for Communion. But perhaps he’s always done that? He sits quite still in the back pew and listens to the church bells; then he goes out again.”
The door to the lounge opened.
“Erika, is that you?”
Erika turned. Laura and Molly were standing side by side in the light from the open door. Each wrapped in a big anorak. They still had their hats and gloves on. They were smiling at her, both with rosy red cheeks.
“You made it,” said Erika, feeling the relief wash over her.
Chapter 85
To start with, they sat together around the table in the lounge, surrounded by all the photographs.
The woman from reception brought more sandwiches and more steaming hot coffee.
“These are my sisters,” Erika said to the woman.
The woman set down the tray and said hello; then she went out, closing the door behind her.
“Who’s she?” said Laura in a low voice. “I feel as if I’ve seen her before.”
“She works here at the hotel; she’s the receptionist,” said Erika. “She put a blanket over me when I was cold.”
Molly stood up from the sofa and went over to the window. She stood there, looking out at the falling snow.
“One time, many years ago,” she said, “I stood by the window like this and, just like now, I was thinking I would be seeing him soon. I’d cooked a big dinner, bought red roses, but he didn’t turn up, of course. Canceled at the last minute.”
“Have you been in touch with Isak today?” Laura asked Erika.
“Yes,” said Erika. “I spoke to him this morning.”
“Is he pleased we’re coming?” asked Laura.
“No,” said Erika.
“Is he afraid we’re coming to confront him or something?” asked Laura.
“I don’t know. He says he’s too old.”
“Too old for what?”
“Too old to entertain three daughters, I assume,” said Erika. “He insisted that we should turn around and drive back home. Me and you and Molly.”
“And what did you say to that?”
“I said that we were coming regardless of what he thought, and that he wouldn’t need to entertain us. I said I was bringing some videos and we could watch those if we couldn’t think of anything to talk about.”
Molly was still standing at the window. She turned to her sisters.
“But we’ve got lots to talk about,” she said.
“Yes,” said Erika, “but I think we’ll have to leave most of it unsaid.”
Erika and Laura got to their feet and went to join Molly at the window. They all looked out at the snow. The clock struck eight. Beyond the church lay the sea.
“Look,” said Molly, pointing. “There’s a light over the water.”
“It’s called something,” said Erika. “I can’t remember what. It’s a natural phenomenon here on the island. It glows, then it vanishes, and then it glows again.”
Then she said: “I remember it was Ragnar who first showed me. He said you had to make sure not to look away, or even blink, because you’re seldom lucky enough to see it. It was as if he thought you could keep the light there by looking at it.”
“Yes, right,” said Molly.
It was snowing heavily now. Perhaps they wouldn’t even be able to get through in Laura’s car. Perhaps they would have to walk the last bit, thought Erika.
“Yes,” said Molly. “I remember Ragnar. He had a mark between his eyes and a hut in the woods that he’d built himself. Yes, I remember him. His mother was called Ann-Kristin, wasn’t she?”
“Yes,” said Laura.
“And I remember,” said Molly, “a sunny afternoon in the garden outside Isak’s house. We were running between the fruit trees. There were apple trees, weren’t there?”
“Yes, a couple,” said Laura.
“Yes,” said Molly. “I remember it being lots. Apple trees and plum trees and pear trees, but maybe I’ve imagined that? But anyway. We ran in and out among the trees. It was a hot day and I hardly had anything on. Probably just that blue dress. Yes. I had a blue dress that barely came down over my bottom. Do you two remember all that?”
“Yes,” said Erika.
“And you were both there,” said Molly, “and I was there and so was Ragnar. We ran in and out among the trees, shrieking and screaming. Yes. I don’t know how old we could have been. I was much younger than the rest of you, of course, but I remember this vividly. It was us three and Ragnar, and then Isak, too. Yes! Isak had got out a hose and he made a monster face and came toward us and we were shrieking and screaming and running in and out among the trees, and Isak said One-two-three I’m coming to get you and you can’t escape, and he sprayed us with water and we got soaked and shrieked and laughed and screamed.
No, please don’t come and get us, Mr. Troll, please don’t!
I got soaked and I held out my arms to Ragnar and Ragnar lifted me up, but I was too heavy for him so he passed me over to Isak, who hoisted me high in the air and spun me around. Yes! I remember it well.”
They were still standing at the window. Erika said: “I remember that day, too. I’ve even got a photograph in my album at home. But Ragnar wasn’t there. He never played with us like that. You’ve got it wrong. He isn’t in the picture.”
Molly smiled.
“Well, that must be because he was taking the picture, then,” she said. “I haven’t got it wrong. Ragnar was with us. We were all there together.”
Laura went back to the table with the tray of coffee and sandwiches. She took a gulp of coffee. It had gone cold.
“So,” she said.
Erika and Molly turned to face her.
“So,” she said again.
“What?” said Erika.
“It’s half past eight. Time we got going, don’t you think?”
“Can we get through in your car even if the snowplow hasn’t gone the whole way?” asked Erika.
“Yes, we can,” said Laura, getting ready to leave.
Erika went over to the sofa and folded up the blanket. She stacked the plates and cups on the tray and took it out to the woman at the desk.
“Are you off now?”
“Yes, we’re off,” said Erika, picking up the rucksack she had left with the woman and slinging it over one shoulder.
“Thank you for being so kind to me,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” said the woman. She looked at Erika. “And take care now,” she added.
Erika went back into the lounge and put on her boots, anorak, hat, and gloves. She turned to her sisters. They were already fully dressed.
“We shouldn’t just turn around and go back home, then?” she said.
Outside it was dark and white. There was still a light over the water. It was rare, said Erika, for it to last that long. Laura and Molly took the front seats and Erika got into the back. The rucksack and cases were in the trunk. Laura put the key in the ignition and started the car.
And then they drove the last little way to Isak’s house, cautiously, through the falling snow.
A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linn Ullmann is a graduate of New York University, where she studied English literature and began work on a Ph.D. She returned to her native Oslo in 1990 to pursue a career in journalism. A prominent literary critic, she also writes a column for Norway’s leading morning newspaper and has published four novels. She lives in Oslo.
ALSO BY LINN ULLMANN
Grace
Stella Descending
Before You Sleep
THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK
PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF
Translation copyright © 2008 by Sarah Death
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Originally published in Norway as
Et velsignet barn
by Forlaget Oktober, Oslo, in 2005. Copyright © 2005 by Forlaget Oktober AS, Oslo.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ullmann, Linn, [date]
[Velsignet barn. English]
A blessed child / by Linn Ullmann; translated from the Norwegian by Sarah Death.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Borzoi book.”
I. Death, Sarah. II. Title.
PT
8951.31.l56
V
4513 2008
839.8'2374—dc22
2007046060
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
eISBN: 978-0-307-26953-9
v3.0
