by Isa Hansen
“His name is Järker,” Anette said. “I asked him to pick you up at the airport.”
“Why?”
“Well, actually, that isn’t quite true.” Anette sighed. “I asked his brother to pick you up. His brother, Karl, is much easier to talk with. They’re both good people, but Karl is much more sociable and warm. Järker isn’t good with people he doesn’t know.”
“Why did you do it at all?” Celia snapped.
A moment of silence.
Anette said, “Can you promise me this stays between us?”
Celia nodded a response.
“First I have to … I need to tell you something else.” Anette clasped her hands. “You know how we said that we found the addition to Lars’s will the week before you arrived?”
“Yes?” Celia said.
Anette met her eyes. “That wasn’t true.”
Celia returned with a wary, “Oh.” This wasn’t going anywhere good, she could sense that much.
“We found it earlier, in the spring, and we’d been arguing about it during the summer.”
Celia stayed quiet, so Anette went on.
“I was with Erik when he found the key and documents. He was deeply disturbed by what he’d found out—about the will and the existence of the house.”
Anette leaned her elbows against her knees, studying the swirly-patterned rug beneath her feet. She seemed to be choosing her words. “From a very young age, Erik felt left out of his father’s life. As a child he felt abandoned when his father and brother moved away and didn’t return. And the house, I guess, came to represent so many things for him. All the secrets, him being left behind, being left out of his father’s life…”
Celia shifted in her seat. Anette had trailed off so she filled the empty space with a tentative, “OK.”
“It wasn’t just the feeling of abandonment. After looking at the purchase date of the house, Erik came to the conclusion that the house was bought for Lars and Viveca to have somewhere to be together away from town. To carry out their affair.” Anette paused there, clicking her nails together. “I’m personally not sure that’s why your grandfather bought the house. He was peculiar, Lars, his own person, really. Sometimes he liked getting away. He was sociable on the whole, but there were times when he drew back and wanted his own space. However, no matter what the house meant to Lars, Erik equated it with the things that destroyed his childhood. When he found the will and later saw the house, he flipped out. Like a switch had been turned. He said he was going to sell the house. That the will wasn’t properly signed by witnesses and therefore he had a right to it, legally.”
A long sigh from Anette. “That’s what we were arguing about—him telling me he would arrange to sell the property and me arguing against it.”
Celia frowned. “He can have the house if he wants it that badly.”
Anette gave her head a quick shake. “He never wanted the house. He just wanted it gone, out of the family. And really, it’s not about the house at all. It’s about betrayal. The house was like the last straw; it was emotional dynamite.”
“But back to what’s his name? Järker?” Celia was struggling to absorb it all.
“Yes, well, when Erik started going on about selling the house, just getting rid of it without informing you … well, I panicked. I tried to talk sense into him. It wouldn’t be right; the house was rightfully yours to do with what you wanted. I knew he’d regret it if he went through with it. And when it came out what he’d done, it would surely create friction between family members. Your father and Erik already have a distanced relationship…”
Anette sat quiet for another moment.
“I didn’t want to keep arguing with Erik. He can be very stubborn, but sometimes all he needs is a little push, a little shakeup, to get him to move out of his bubble and come back to reason and logic. I thought I’d create that shakeup. So I mixed up your flight information in Erik’s calendar, and I asked Karl to pick you up. Karl ended up not being able to, so he asked Järker to do it, without checking with me first. And then it all went wrong, even though the intended effect went through: Erik was so alarmed that you’d seen the house that he did the right thing. He was honest and told you about it.”
Celia grimaced and shook her head. “You didn’t think I’d be scared?” Her voice was rising. “You didn’t think I’d be terrified about being picked up by a complete stranger? And then left at some random abandoned building?”
“I’m so sorry,” Anette said, her eyes round with regret. “It was never meant to be like that. Karl is open and outgoing and would have immediately made you feel comfortable. He was supposed to take you by the house and show it to you. Then he was to bring you here and drop you off outside our house. The information was mixed up with the switch of drivers.”
Anette looked Celia straight in the eye. “I realize that I had no right to do what I did, even though in my mind you were never going to be scared or uncomfortable.”
“You lied to both me and Erik.” Celia was struggling to keep her anger contained. “How does that not bother you?”
“It does. Of course it does.” Anette stared down at the floor.
Celia planted her head in her hands. “I’m going to need some time to figure this out…”
“Of course,” Anette said. “I just hope you can forgive me.”
Celia rubbed her forehead, exhaustion mixed with frustration.
“But please, don’t let this come between you and Erik.” Anette reached over to touch Celia’s arm. “He cares about you, he really does. I know it probably doesn’t seem that way to you. He went berserk when he found out about the house. It has no reflection on you.”
“So, he has no idea the whole Järker thing was set up by you?”
“Actually—”
“He does?”
Suddenly it all made sense to Celia.
The absence of Erik. All the work trips. All the time spent away.
“I couldn’t keep lying to him,” Anette said quietly.
But you could keep lying to me, Celia thought. “So, I’ve been the only one walking around in the dark? Not knowing, like some kind of idiot…” Her words were bitter. “How could you?”
Anette’s voice went low again, “It would be another lie to say that it was all for you. The embarrassing truth is that some of it was for me. I didn’t just want to shake Erik up so he’d tell you the truth. Part of it was, I just wanted to shake him up. These last years, maybe even the last decade, we’ve been slipping.” Anette focused her stare away.
“We used to travel, try new things, cook together, talk, really talk. Sometimes we’ll have small moments of how it used to be, but mostly—he’s just gone.” Anette swallowed. “Like he’s vanishing into a deep hole within himself. I wanted to shake him out of it.” She shook her head. “This was not how it should have been handled, and I can promise you I’m not proud of myself.”
Celia looked down at her hands. “This is probably none of my business, but the man you were sitting with at the bar?”
“That’s over,” Anette said resolutely. “Not that anything actually started. Whatever you saw was the extent of it. But I realized the direction we were headed in, and I knew I had to stop. Am I infatuated with him?” A pause from Anette. “I suppose I might be. But I won’t act on it. Not until Erik and I have sorted out things between us. Not until we know where we stand with each other.”
Celia set down her hands squarely on the couch, preparing to lift herself up.
Part of her sincerely wished that she hadn’t seen Anette at that tavern. Although at least now she knew the truth about the driver.
“I’m sorry you got dragged into our madness,” Anette said. “We can talk more about this whenever you want.”
“I don’t know there’s much else to talk about.”
Celia rose gingerly, ambled through the hall to her room and sat on her bed for a long time.
***
“That’s really messed up,” Zari said
.
She and Celia were on a walk—wandering up and down the streets in Zari’s neighborhood. Zari lived with her family in the residential area in the hills just above the Willow Warbler. Celia wanted to get out of the house after her conversation with Anette. She needed the space to think and vent.
“It’s fine, I guess,” Celia said. “I’ll work it out.” She raised her shoulders and let them fall again. “At least now I know.”
Zari asked, “Is it going to be hard for you to stay there, with them?”
“Yeah … probably. It’s so fresh still, like, really emotional.”
“Are you upset with Erik?”
“I’m not sure … I don’t think I understand this enough to be upset with him. Right now I’m just upset with Anette for lying to me. Even if she did have good intentions; it wasn’t right that she did what she did and then lied about it. You know, how can I trust her after this?”
“I understand that,” Zari said.
They continued walking and Celia changed the subject; she had her own confession to make. She had to come clean about what she’d done last night. She owed that to Zari.
“So…” she began, cautiously. “There’s something I should tell you. I spoke to Nicole. Went to her house.”
Zari clicked her tongue. Her face was pensive. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But she’s not going to bother you any more.”
“How do you know?”
“I can’t tell you, but I can say this: they won’t be coming after you or your friends.”
For several long seconds, Zari didn’t say anything. When she spoke, she said, “I wish you hadn’t gone to Nicole.”
Celia nodded. “I didn’t mean to run you over. I get it if you’re mad at me.”
“It’s OK.” Zari let out a breath. “I know you meant well.”
“I had to do something,” Celia said. “You’re like a sister to me. You and Ebba are the sisters I never had.”
“I feel the same,” Zari said, then she gave a little laugh. “Even though I have two sisters at home.”
They had arrived back at Zari’s house.
They stopped by the timber fence that lined the yard.
“So how are you all doing?” Celia asked. “After everything that happened to you guys.”
Zari lifted a shoulder. “We’re OK. We all know there’s a price to pay.”
When Celia gave her a quizzical look, Zari said, “Being an immigrant in Sweden. There’s a price you pay. We know it. They know it. That’s what Nicole was doing when she was harassing us: making sure we don’t forget. Making sure we’re reminded of our debt. My parents pay the price, even though they’re employed and pay taxes here. And my older sister, she has to work double as hard at her job. Just to prove herself.”
Zari cast her eyes away. They were sparked with ire. “Even if whatever you said or did to Nicole makes her stop. Even if that one thing stops. It’s not actually going to end for us.”
The front door to Zari’s house opened and a young girl came bounding out. She had a throw of dark hair pulled back with a headband that sparkled in the bleak winter sun. She flung herself at Zari who picked her up—the little girl twisted her legs around Zari’s waist.
She was Zari’s youngest sibling, Leyla. She looked up at Zari and chattered frenetically, words in Arabic trilling off her tongue. Every now and then she paused to giggle or gasp for air.
Zari laughed. “Say hi to Celia,” she said to Leyla.
Wide open beautiful eyes that looked like Zari’s turned to Celia. “Hej Celia!”
“Hej hej!” Celia said with a little wave. Then to Zari, “Hey, I better go. Thanks for listening.”
Zari and Celia hugged with the little sister squeezed between them.
As Celia was leaving, she saw Leyla slip down from Zari’s hips. Zari took her sister’s hand and they walked together toward the house. They stopped halfway there. Leyla gazed up at her big sister, the adoration so clear in her face that it zapped out and struck Celia straight in the heart.
At first Celia thought that pang was jealousy. But that’s not what it was: it was sadness.
Emptiness.
Longing. For her parents. For family. The warm, solid comforting bond of family.
***
Celia dragged her feet walking back. She didn’t want to go home, but she didn’t have it in her to do anything else either.
She passed the Warbler on her way—she halted outside the building.
It was time to make her life less complicated. She was drowning right now, drowning in all of it. She needed to start cutting down before the fatigue swallowed her whole.
The job wasn’t right anymore.
She saw it so clearly now: that her life was something that needed to be detangled, something that needed to become more simple.
There was too much craziness. She needed to regain her energy. And the way to start was to pare down.
Celia entered the building. The home’s Administrative Coordinator Katarina was the person she needed to speak with.
It occurred to her that she could also take the opportunity to ask her grandmother about Sten. But almost instantly, she felt, she just didn’t care. The past week had left her limp—the spark and vigor mangled straight out of her.
She turned the corner past the recreation room and arrived at Katarina’s office at the far end of the building. The door to the office was open. Katarina was sitting at her desk, leaning over a computer keyboard.
Katarina was an amiable woman in her late 40s with sky blue eyes and shoulder-length blond hair. She glanced up when Celia tapped on the open office door.
“Hi Celia, come on in,” Katarina said, her tone welcoming.
“I won’t be long.” Celia moved up to stand on the other side of Katarina’s desk. “I need to put in my resignation, effective immediately.”
Katarina sat forward. “I’m sorry to hear that. Has there been a problem here?”
“No, not at all,” Celia was quick to respond. “Everyone here has been great. It’s a family thing that’s come up.” That was only barely a stretch of the truth.
Katarina looked concerned. “Is everything OK? Will you be going back to America?”
Celia wavered; she didn’t actually know the answer to that. Was she? Did she need to go back? Had she exhausted her time here?
It was the first time that the thought of leaving Sweden became a real consideration in Celia’s mind. And although a big part of her wanted to go back, it also seemed impossible to leave. If she did go home, then what? Go back to the life she lived before coming here? Try to be the person she was before she arrived? Pretend like her world wasn’t completely upside down and full of question marks?
That no longer felt like a viable option.
CHAPTER 32
There was one part of her conversation with Anette that stuck with Celia. She couldn’t stop thinking about how Erik had wanted to sell the summer house. She could get how he’d have an aversion to it, but to go so far as to sell the property behind her back?
That seemed drastic, and Erik wasn’t a drastic kind of person. He was rather the type of person who’d do anything to skip unnecessary drama. The behavior just didn’t fit.
Out of character. These thoughts had occupied her before in regard to Erik.
She was puzzling over it, over him, the following afternoon while taking an overly full compost bucket out to the backyard bin.
Outside the air was damp and thick. A waft of molted leaves and fried butter lingered. In one of the neighboring houses on the other side of the hedge someone was cooking; it smelled like pancakes.
Celia lifted up the bucket to the wooden rim of the compost bin. She turned her head toward the house. There was a yellow light shining from Erik’s office window.
Then.
Her body went completely still.
Because that’s when the flighty sensation that had been with her all along solidified into som
ething rock hard and immovable. Erik knew something he wasn’t sharing.
She’d suspected that since the beginning.
Now she was certain of it. There was a connection between him and the house.
Yes, the house represented his childhood. The deceit, abandonment. But if he was so disturbed by the house that he’d consider going out of his way to sell it behind her back, then there had to be something more there.
But what?
What was it that Erik knew that he didn’t want her to know?
Celia turned the bucket upside down, discarding its contents.
She tossed the empty bucket to the ground and gripped the robust pitchfork that leaned against the wall of the bin. She swirled it around in the compost pile with several forceful stabbing turns. Then she set aside the pitchfork, swooped up her bucket and went back inside.
***
Anette and Erik’s farmhouse had become an altogether different place. What Celia saw as homey and comfortable before was now austere and cold. The kitchen was too pale against the darkness pressing against the window panes. The backyard trees that used to be leafy and quaint were now skeletal and foreboding. Even the crackling of the fireplace in her room sounded sinister.
She no longer felt comfortable in their home. And although most of her discomfort stemmed from her relationship with Erik—and the unavoidable questions of what he was hiding—she was uncomfortable with Anette, too. But it was a different kind of discomfort.
It was more of a dismal sorrow over losing her trust for Anette.
There were no more easy dinners, laughing, having fun together. Their relationship had become a shadow of its former self.
Celia’s world changed when she saw Anette with the stranger. Now she and Anette were like strangers. She didn’t know if there’d be any coming back from that.
Amidst all of the dysfunction, at least there was one positive. She and Oskar were on speaking terms again.