As if she knew who I was thinking about, she said: ‘Knut always used to say that his father would burn.’
‘What about us?’ I said. ‘Will we burn?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, taking my hand. ‘I’ve tried to work it out, but the funny thing is that I don’t feel anything. Hugo Eliassen. I lived under the same roof as that man for over ten years, but even so I’m not sorry, and I don’t feel any sympathy for him. I’m not angry with him any more, but I don’t feel happy either. And I’m not scared. It’s been a long while since I wasn’t scared. Scared for Knut’s sake, for my own. I was even scared of you. But do you know what the strangest thing is?’
She swallowed and stared at the cabin, which was now a single mass of flames. She looked incredibly beautiful in the red glow of the fire.
‘I don’t regret it. Not now, and I won’t regret it later either. So if what we’re doing is a mortal sin, then I’ll burn, because I’m not going to ask for forgiveness. The only thing I’ve regretted these past few days –’ she turned towards me – ‘is that I let you go.’
The nocturnal temperature had fallen suddenly and severely; it must have been the heat from the cabin that was making my cheeks and forehead burn.
‘Thank you for not giving up, Ulf.’ She stroked my hot cheek with her hand.
‘Hmm. Not Jon?’
She leaned against me. Her lips almost touching mine. ‘Considering the plan, it’s probably best if we carry on calling you Ulf.’
‘Speaking of names and plans,’ I said. ‘Would you like to marry me?’
She looked at me sharply. ‘You’re proposing now? While my husband is burning to ashes right in front of us?’
‘It’s the practical solution,’ I said.
‘Practical!’ she snorted.
‘Practical.’ I folded my arms. Looked up at the sky. Then at the time. ‘Plus the fact that I love you more than I’ve ever loved any woman, and that I’ve heard Læstadian women aren’t even allowed to kiss before marriage.’
A shower of sparks flew up as the roof and walls of the cabin collapsed. She pressed closer to me. Our lips met. And this time there was no doubt.
She was kissing me.
As we hurried down towards the village, the cabin was already a smoking ruin behind us. We agreed that I should hide in the church while she packed and picked up Knut from his grandparents, before fetching me in the Volkswagen.
‘You don’t need to pack much,’ I said, patting the money belt. ‘We can buy what we need.’
She nodded. ‘Don’t show yourself outside. I’ll come in and get you.’
We parted on the gravel road, right where I had met Mattis the night I arrived in Kåsund. That felt like a lifetime ago. And now, as then, I heaved the heavy church door open and went up to the altar. There I stopped and looked at the crucifix.
Did Grandfather mean what he said about not being able to turn down something that was free, and that was the only reason why he surrendered to superstition? Or was it actually the case that my prayers had been heard, that the guy on the cross had saved me? Did I owe him anything?
I took a deep breath.
Him? He was just a man carved out of fucking wood. Down by the shore there were rocks they prayed to that must work just as well.
But all the same.
Damn.
I sat down on the front pew. Thinking. And it isn’t too pretentious to say that I was thinking about life and death.
After twenty minutes the door slammed hard. I swung round. It was too dark for me to see who it was. But it wasn’t Lea, the footsteps were too heavy.
Johnny? Ove?
My heart was racing as I tried to remember why I’d tossed the pistol into the sea.
‘So.’ The vowel was stretched out. The voice was deep and familiar. ‘You’re having a conversation with the Lord? I presume you’re asking if you’re doing the right thing?’
For some reason I saw Lea’s features more clearly in her father, now that he had come straight from bed. What little hair he had wasn’t as neatly combed as the other times I had seen him, and his shirt was buttoned wrong. That made him less intimidating, but beyond that there was something about his tone of voice and facial expression that told me he had come in peace.
‘I’m not quite a believer yet,’ I said. ‘But I’m no longer denying that I’ve got doubts.’
‘Everyone has doubts. Believers more than anyone.’
‘Really? You, too?’
‘Of course I have doubts.’ Jakob Sara sat down beside me with a groan. He wasn’t a heavy man, but even so the pew seemed to rock. ‘That’s why it’s called faith, not knowledge.’
‘Even for a preacher?’
‘Especially for a preacher.’ He sighed. ‘He has to confront his own convictions every time he preaches the Word. He has to feel it, because he knows that doubt and faith will each be audible in his voice. Do I believe today? Do I believe strongly enough today?’
‘Hmm. What about the times you step up to the pulpit when you don’t believe strongly enough?’
He rubbed his chin. ‘Then you have to believe that living as a Christian is in itself good. That renunciation, not succumbing to sin, has a value for human beings even in this earthly life. On a similar theme, I’ve read that sportsmen find the pain and effort of training meaningful in itself, even if they never win anything. If heaven didn’t actually exist, then at least we have a good, secure life as Christians, where we work, live happily, accept the possibilities God and nature give us, and look after each other. Do you know what my father – also a preacher – used to say about Læstadianism? That if you only counted the people the movement had saved from alcoholism and broken homes, that alone would justify what we do, even if we were preaching a lie.’ He paused for a minute. ‘But it’s not always like that. Sometimes it costs more than it should to live according to Scripture. The way it did for Lea . . . The way I, in my delusion, forced Lea to live.’ There was a faint tremor in his voice. ‘It took me many years to realise it, but no one should be forced by their father to live in a marriage like that, with a man they hate, a man who had taken them by force.’ He raised his head and looked at the crucifix above us. ‘Yes, I remain convinced that it was right according to Scripture, but sometimes salvation can have too high a price.’
‘Amen.’
‘And the pair of you, you and Lea . . .’ He turned to look at me. ‘I saw it in the prayer hall. Two young people looking at each other in the way you and Lea did in the back row, when you thought no one else could see.’ He shook his head and smiled sadly. ‘Now of course what Scripture says about remarriage is debatable, not to mention marrying a heathen. But I’ve never seen Lea like this. And I’ve never heard her sound the way she did when she came to pick up Knut just now. You’ve made my daughter beautiful again, Ulf. I’m just saying it like it is, and it looks as if you’ve started to heal all the damage I did.’ He put a large, wrinkled hand on my knee. ‘And you’re doing the right thing, you need to get away from Kåsund. The Eliassen family is very powerful, more powerful than me, and they’d never let you and Lea have a life here.’
Now I understood. After the prayer meeting in the hall, when he asked if I was thinking of taking Lea away from there with me . . . he hadn’t meant it as a threat. It had been a plea.
‘Besides . . .’ He patted my knee. ‘You’re dead, aren’t you, Ulf? I’ve had my instructions from Lea. You were a lonely, depressed soul who set fire to the hunting cabin before lying down on the bed and shooting yourself in the head with the rifle. The charred corpse will bear a metal dog tag with your name on it, and both I and Ove Eliassen will swear to the police that you were missing one of your front teeth. I shall inform whatever family you may have, explain that you had expressed a wish to be buried here, sort out the paperwork, talk to the vicar and get your remains in the ground quickly and efficiently. Any particular hymns you’d like?’
I turned to look at him. Saw one of his gold teeth flash
in the half-light.
‘I’ll be the only person here who knows the truth,’ the old man said. ‘And even I don’t know where you’re going. And I don’t want to know either. But I hope to see Lea and Knut again some day.’ He stood up with creaking knees.
I got to my feet and held my hand out to him. ‘Thank you.’
‘I should be thanking you,’ he said. ‘Because you’ve given me the chance to make good at least some of what I did to my daughter. The peace of God, farewell, and may all His angels go with you on your journey.’
I followed him with my eyes as he left. Felt a gust of cold air as the door opened and closed again.
I waited. Looked at the time. Lea was taking longer than I had anticipated. I hoped she hadn’t run into any trouble. Or changed her mind. Or . . .
I heard the stuttering sound of a forty-horsepower engine outside. The Volkswagen. I was about to head towards the door of the church when it flew open and three people came in.
‘Stay where you are!’ a voice roared. ‘This won’t take long.’
The man rolled quickly up between the pews. Knut was following him, but it was Lea who caught my eye. She was dressed in white. Was that her wedding dress?
Mattis stopped in front of the altar. Put on a pair of comically small glasses and leafed through some papers he pulled from the pocket of his anorak. Knut jumped up onto my back.
‘There’s something on my back!’ I said, twisting and turning.
‘Yep, rikishi Knut-san from Finnmark ken!’ Knut squealed as he clung on tight.
Lea walked up beside me and put her hand under my arm.
‘I thought it was best to get it sorted out straight away,’ she whispered. ‘Practical.’
‘Practical,’ I repeated.
‘Let’s get straight to the important bit,’ Mattis said, then cleared his throat and held the papers close to his face. ‘In the sight of God the Creator, and with the authority vested in me as a representative of the Norwegian judiciary, forgive me asking, but do you, Ulf Hansen, take Lea Sara to be your lawfully wedded wife?’
‘Yes,’ I said loudly and clearly. Lea squeezed my hand.
‘Will you love and honour her, be faithful to her –’ he leafed through the documents – ‘in sickness and in health?’
‘Yes.’
‘Now I ask you, Lea Sara, will you—?’
‘Yes!’
Mattis looked up over his glasses. ‘What?’
‘Yes, I take Ulf Hansen to be my lawfully wedded husband, and I promise to love and honour and be faithful to him until death us do part. Which won’t be long unless we get a move on.’
‘Of course, of course,’ Mattis said, and looked through his papers. ‘Let’s see, let’s . . . here it is! Take each other’s hands. Ah, I see you’ve already done that. In that case . . . right! In the sight of God – and me, as representative of the Norwegian authorities – you have promised . . . lots of things. And you have each given your hand to the other. I therefore declare you to be legally married.’
Lea looked up at me. ‘Let go now, Knut.’
Knut let go, slid down off my back and landed on the floor behind me. Then Lea kissed me quickly and turned back to Mattis again. ‘Thanks. Can you sign the papers?’
‘Of course,’ Mattis said. He clicked the back of a ballpoint pen against his chest, put his name on one of the papers and handed it to her. ‘That’s an official document and ought to be valid wherever you go.’
‘Will it work as a way of getting new ID papers?’ I asked.
‘Your date of birth is here, here are our signatures, and your wife can confirm your identity as Ulf Hansen, so yes, it ought to be enough to get at least a temporary passport from a Norwegian embassy.’
‘That’s all we need.’
‘Where are you going?’
We looked at him in silence.
‘Of course,’ he muttered, and shook his head. ‘Good luck.’
And that was how we came to walk out of church in the middle of the night as a married couple. I was married. And, if Grandfather was right, the first time is always the worst. Now we just had to jump in the Volkswagen and get out of Kåsund before anyone woke up and saw us. But we stopped on the steps and looked up in astonishment.
‘Confetti!’ I said. ‘That’s all that was missing.’
‘It’s snowing!’ Knut cried.
Big, fluffy flakes of snow drifted slowly down from the sky and settled on Lea’s black hair. She laughed out loud. Then we ran down the steps and over to the car, and got in.
Lea turned the key in the ignition, the engine started, she let out the clutch and we were on our way.
‘Where are we going?’ Knut asked from the back seat.
‘Top secret,’ I said. ‘All I can say is that it’s the capital of a country where we don’t need passports to cross the border.’
‘What are we going there for?’
‘We’re going to live there. Try to get jobs. And play.’
‘What are we going to play?’
‘A lot of things. Secret hiding, for instance. By the way, I’ve thought of a joke. How do you fit five elephants into a Volkswagen?’
‘Five . . .’ he muttered to himself. Then he leaned forward between the seats. ‘Tell me!’
‘Two in the front and three in the back.’
A moment’s silence. Then he fell back into his seat and let out a loud laugh.
‘Well?’ I said.
‘You’re getting better, Ulf. But that wasn’t a joke.’
‘No?’
‘That was a riddle.’
He fell asleep before we left the county of Finnmark.
It was day by the time we passed the Swedish border. The monotonous landscape slowly changed, taking on more colour and variety. The mountains were covered by a scattering of snowy icing sugar. Lea hummed a song she’d only recently learned.
‘There’s a hotel just outside Östersund,’ I said, leafing through the gazetteer I had found in the glove compartment. ‘It looks nice, we can get a couple of rooms there.’
‘Our wedding night,’ she said.
‘What about it?’
‘That’ll be tonight, won’t it?’
I thought. ‘Yes, I suppose it will. Look, we’ve got loads of time, we don’t need to rush anything.’
‘I don’t know what you need, dear husband,’ she said in a low voice, checking in the mirror that Knut was still asleep. ‘But you know what they say about Læstadians and wedding nights.’
‘No?’
She didn’t answer. Just sat there steering our car and following the road with an inscrutable smile on her red lips. Because I think she knew what I needed. I think she knew from the moment she asked the question that night in the cabin, the one I didn’t answer: what was the first thing I thought of was when she said I was fire and she air. Because, as Knut would say, everyone knows the answer to that riddle.
Fire needs air to exist.
Damn, she’s so beautiful.
So how do we end this story?
I don’t know. But I’m going to stop telling it here.
Because right here is good. Maybe things will happen later that aren’t quite so good. But I don’t know that yet. I just know that right here and now everything is perfect, that right now I am in a place where I have always wanted to be. On my way, but already there.
I’m ready.
Daring to lose, one more time.
Acknowledgements
With thanks to Øyvind Eggen for allowing the quotation of his work.
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Copyright © Jo Nesbo 2015
English translation copyright Neil Smith © 2015
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First published by Harvill Secker in 2015
First published in Norway by Aschehoug in 2015 as Mere blod
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Jo Nesbo, Midnight Sun
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