CH 10
As usual, no copyright infringements.
We are all in the same room at the first floor of the station, four camp beds are made, Ulla and Jorgen's wife have prepared us dinner, we heat it in the microwave.
Dad eats two spoons of the soup, then declares his cooking is better and he will spoil all of us when we'll be back home. We go to bed, it is difficult to sleep, Astrid asks dad a bedtime story, like when we were little. His memory doesn't betray him and his voice soothes my fears. It's Saga who go first, long before the story ends, I notice she sleeps and dad tenderly pull the cover over her shoulders.
He's so sweet with her, so caring I ask him if he is in love with her more than with mom.
He looks at me and says he has no answer; it's a different kind of love, he explains. Love changes during the years and during the life of a person.
The only things that matters for him is that he loved mom and now loves Saga.
And he loves and cherishes us.
With this confirmation, I close my eyes for the night.
My dreams are confused and dark, I wake up, Astrid's phone says it's around six and I hear water running in the bathroom.
Dad returns and see the screen light, he bends over my bed.
"Try to sleep some more."
"I can't."
"I' sure you can, relax and think soon we'll be home for real."
Next thing I remember Saga calls my name, she's fully dressed, a mug of coffee in hand. We got ready and leave in a police van, few kilometers that seems one hundred, we stop at the intersection and wait.
I hear shots, sirenes, an helicopter above us, until the radio gives free way.
The van starts, the last part of my voyage here. There is smoke from a window of the third cabin, the frame is dark, burned. My nostrils fill with smell of wood and petrol. There is police everywhere, I count ten man with special uniforms.
Astrid refuses to leave the van, she closes her eyes, repeating a word only, Frank. Dad hugs her, Saga asks the driver to look after her.
I lead the way, dad a step behind me, Saga joins Mads who's discussing with the special unit commander. I stop near the entrance of my former cabin, turning to dad, asking if we can enter now.
He gets Mads' approval and he hold my hand while we climb the steps.
Everything is as I left, Ole barely washed a few glasses and piled the pans in the sink.
Smell of cheap alcohol, dad points at a broken bottle near the bedroom door. The only strange thing are my books, all fallen from the shelf, like somebody wiped them off.
Saga's at my side now, scanning around.
"Where's your room?" She asks me.
"I'll show you."
I head for the tent that hides the basement stairs. Dad goes first, to protect us, than me, Saga follows.
They automatically control nobody is there, hidden in the half darkness.
I lit the bulb on, the generator still able to produce electricity.
My room is hollow and ugly, it contains the narrow bed I used to sleep on, a chair, a bowel on the floor, a suspended wire to hung my few clothes.
Dad touch my dirty pillow, he's so quiet, almost reverent in his exploration. He goes to the chair and took the shirt I left here, holding the garment to his chest and inhaling the scent. I want to stop him, it sure smells like hell, I know the difference now that I'm clean, now that I take two showers a day with the berries scented shower gel Saga bought for me at the store.
I wanted to smell sweet, like Astrid, like dad, traces of pine and something like vanilla. I asked Saga to get herself a perfume. I vaguely remembered my mother's scent and I wanted Saga to smell good, too. She tried all the brands on display. We read the names, eau de toilette, eau de parfum, Dad said French is the languages of perfumes, Saga explained us the people who create them are experts who can recognize hundreds of fragrances with their nose only.
Saga choose one with the scent of fresh fruits, saying she never used a perfume before. Dad smiled lovingly.
Suddenly behind me I hear Saga has difficulties in breathing, the air is too few, I know, I tell her to go to the stairs to get more oxygen. My own head is spinning for the smell of smoke from the burned cabin.
My sleeve get trapped in the door knob, I pull and the fabric give way. It's just an old cardigan from Jorgen's daughter – dad wants to buy everything new for me – and it tear something open inside me.
I give a kick to the door, the sound echoes between the basement walls. Dad looks at me, worried I hurt myself.
"It is just the door."
I tell him and repeat the kick. It's good to do so, I want to destroy that damned door.
Frantic kicks until my ankle aches. I stop and go upstairs, wanting to never turn back, but I hear sobs and a muffled cry.
Saga's looking at the dusted calendar on the wall, greasy by anonymous fingerprints.
She seems transfixed by it, her sobs increase in intensity.
Dad moves closer and she push him away with her arm violently.
"Saga, look at me."
He grabs her arm, not caring when she slaps him in the face.
"Let me go!" she rattles out. " I have to go to Jennifer. !"
"No, it's an attack. Calm down, look at me."
She repeats the name Jennifer again and again.
I'm petrified, I don't know what to do. I call Saga's name. Dad turns to me.
"Go call Mads and the doctor!", he orders me, hugging Saga from behind. She fights, he doesn't let her go, resisting her kicks in the legs, one is close to his wound and makes him flinch for the pain.
"Go!" he shouts at me.
When I'm back with help, Saga is breathing better, sat in dad's lap; he rubs her back to soothe her.
The doctor gives Saga drops from his bag, then he and dad lead her to the van.
I ask Mads if I can take something with me.
"What do you want? We need proofs, so I don't know if I can let you..."
"The books." I show him the shelf; he nods and grabs them heading for the door. I follow him, leaving this place for ever.
Mads was merciful in letting the Sabroes leave Burmol after the identifications and the preliminary report.
Saga was in need of a quiet evening and Henrik decided to return to Mad's house, not caring the distance.
The drive relaxed Henrik, after a tiring and exhausting day at the cabins and then at the police station. He was at peace with himself, his daughters asleep in the back seat under a plaid, Saga dozing on and off beside him.
She twice tried to speak and her words were confused, like when she asked him to wake her up once they were on the other side of the bridge.
He smiled and patted her arm. The effect of the tranquillizer would end soon.
He had to force himself not to look back every minute to assess the girls. So many times they had been there in his imagination, he was afraid to live again in his nightmare.
Henrik was a little sorry to wake everybody up when they arrived in Umea. Saga refused his arm to climb the stairs, but in the living area she sat heavily on the couch and let Henrik lift her legs up, took off her shoes and place a pillow behind her head.
Ingrid had left food in the oven, Henrik served four portions of steaming lasagne and before going to watch television in their room Astrid took an apple and Anna some biscuits.
Saga gave Henrik her plate and relaxed again on the couch.
After cleaning, she noticed he was pacing the room nervously, like when he was getting clean from the drugs; she was sure he was off, but he was really getting on her nerves.
"What's bothering you?"
"You know well."
She stayed silent. Dangerous grounds. He stood in front of her.
"We need to talk about what happened in the basement. Your panic attack."
"It was not panic."
"Whatever, you went off the rails and kicked me."
"Not my intention."
"I know. The place triggered something in your memory. When I was hugging you, you called your sister's name and wanted your father."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"We better do it. No more secrets in this family. I want to help you, trust me."
His eyes expressed his feelings more than his words, she could see he'd not run away, letting her down again.
A long sigh.
"Do you remember the basement at the Johanson's? There was light there, a window. Astrid's and mine were dark. My mother kept me in our basement for hours when she went to work. I was five when she started. It was cold and humid, she took off my clothes and I was there in my panties only. My teeth rattled. I started closing up my mind, so I was not there. I was strong, no illnesses, so I think she got pregnant again to have somebody else to torture."
Her gaze was on the opposite window so she didn't see Henrik's face during her tale, the way he reacted while a flood of emotions run over his features.
Saga neither noticed he sat beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders.
"She started early with Jennifer, earlier than with me, to be sure Jennifer was under her paws, especially after I started school and my father had a new work."
Henrik moved closer little by little, his hand slowly caressing her neck. She was so tensed her muscles were hard like stones, so he started rubbing her upper back, making small circles.
"What did he do for a living?" he murmured, not to scare her, wanting to make the moment last, to understand her past and let her share with him the burden.
Henrik was sure he could really help her, because he felt more at ease with his own tragedies.
He already met a therapyst for Astrid girls and himself, hoping Saga would continue hers.
"He was a salesman and became area leader. He was away often four nights a week."
"And he didn't notice?"
"She told him we were liars, ungrateful kids, especially me. She wanted to send me to a special school, pretending I was mentally disturbed. I did a QI test, scored top and my teachers opposed."
"How did she get the drugs?"
"She worked in a nursing home for the elders. I suppose she stole them. When it started, Jennifer was in hospital every other month. I had no power to stop. It lasted for years."
A tear fell on Henrik's hand. He passed his other arm around Saga, pulling her closer, her back to his front, like the night at the train tracks. She leaned into him.
"I had to find a way, I talked with a teacher whose husband was a lawyer. He discussed the case for free. I thought I've saved my sister. I really hoped."
Her tears become sobs, painful and heartbreaking.
They had enough pain and grief for a lifetime, he wanted Saga to be happier, to cross her own bridge and leave her past behind.
He let her cry for a while then his hand caressed her face.
"Stop now, it's over, the past is past, we have to put our demons to rest and start living again."
"I thought all would be over when I went away."
"It isn't so fast. Healing is a long process. Two weeks aren't enough."
She nodded.
"What did you do while away?"
"I drove a lot, visited places, was always in motion."
"Was it what you wanted to do?"
"I don't know. I was compelled to move, every day, in the end my head was spinning. I stopped in Amsterdam, paid the hotel in advance for three days so I had to stay there. "
Henrik feared it was too soon for Saga to overcome all her fears, like she wanted to gulp a bottle of a medicine in one single gesture. Sure she knew it was not the best way to deal with traumas, but knowing it and applying to herself was a different matter. .
The night she told him she was leaving she appeared scared like a little girl. He feared it was a wrong idea, but how he could have stopped Saga when he was so wrapped up with Astrid immediately after the shooting? What could he offer Saga then? Few minutes a day, fast rounds in bed, some night calls, always in a hurry, because a recovering Astrid needed him?
In less than a month their life had turned upside down, twice; they needed time to heal, together, the idea to be parted was unbearable for Henrik.
He was tender in holding her, to transmit reassurance with his body; she accepted him without complains.
"How did you imagined the trip when you left?"
"I thought I'd found easily what I wanted to become, now I don't know if I was right in leaving police."
"You're a great detective, the best I ever met. Police suits you, more than me."
"You're good, too."
"I was better with pills; hard to admit, my case rate topped since I started them. I wonder what to do about work and the girls, I need to stay with them."
"I'll see my therapyst again. Going away is not the solution for me. And I left you…I missed you."
At first Henrik thought the words were from his subconscious, not from her mouth, such was the desire he had to hear them, after two years. But Saga was talking with him, calling his name, to get him back from his reverie. He turned his head to face her.
"I'm glad to hear it. Let's go to bed now. Tomorrow will be difficult for the interrogations, then we'll go home."
"I haven't got an apartment."
"You can stay with us for how long you want."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded and his head moved closer.
"The girls need you, I need you and I love you."
She closed the short distance and gave him a kiss, sweet and tender, without lust or desire. A kiss that promised something deeper, future, commitment, support. Love.