There she had it, take it or leave was the deal. Emma had taken it, thinking she would be able to change his mind over time, a mistake many women before her had made when they met Paul. Once he told them he wasn't into marriage or children, they couldn't think about anything else after that, and they just wanted to change him. It destroyed all of his former relationships, so Emma knew she had to be very careful. ‘Cause Emma really loved Paul. They fought like cats and dogs, but at least they were passionate, at least they didn't settle and become boring. Their sex was always new and exciting. Paul could be wild as a beast or the gentlest of lovers. To Emma, he was the right man for her, and she was afraid he was going to leave her once he found out. He was going to think that she framed him, that she had become pregnant on purpose, and he was going to demand she have an abortion. That was the real reason why she had waited. She wanted to get past the first twelve weeks of pregnancy, when it was no longer legal to terminate the pregnancy. Once she passed twelve weeks, Paul could yell at her all he wanted, he could throw plates and whatever else he wanted to throw, but there was no way around it. He was going to be a father.
Emma hadn't become pregnant to trick him into going the whole way with her; she didn't care much about marriage or any of all that other stuff herself; she didn't expect him to even marry her. It was an accident, a huge surprise to her, once her doctor examined her and asked her if she was aware that she was with child? Emma cried for hours, not knowing what to do. Her best friend, Camilla, came up with the idea.
"Just don't tell him until it's too late," she said.
Camilla then told Emma to get out of the bad neighborhood they lived in outside of Copenhagen and buy a house in the country. Emma liked the idea and talked to the bank, who told her it was definitely possible with her income as a secretary. But Emma didn't know where to go.
"My sister lives in Arnakke. It's a really nice place, sweet people. There is actually a house for sale on her street; maybe you should take a look at it?"
That's how they ended up on the nice street of Langholm, as far away from the city as both Paul and Emma had ever been. The countryside was so idyllic, Emma thought, and they could spot the fjord from the top floor of the house. Even the air felt so much healthier. They both had a long drive to work, but it was well worth it. They had both taken the week off from work to move and unpack.
"So, where do you want this?" Paul asked and lifted up a small lamp.
Emma smiled. "In the office upstairs," she said.
Paul grunted, then walked up the stairs with heavy feet. Emma looked at him as he disappeared. She would have to make Danish meatballs, frikadeller, for him tonight to make up for all this, she thought. Maybe even serve ice cream for dessert. Then she closed her eyes for a second and pictured the office upstairs being turned into a nursery for the baby and chuckled while holding her stomach. Yes, this was indeed going to be a wonderful adventure for all of them, and Paul would learn to love it…eventually.
Chapter Sixteen
Ida was standing outside the door to Edwina's room, panting, trying to calm her heart down. Edwina had gone quiet on the other side and Ida was afraid to move, in case Edwina decided to come out.
Marie-Therese had come home from church and was sitting in the living room watching a show. Now she was walking down the hallway towards Ida, who was breathing heavily in fear.
"What was that?" Marie-Therese asked.
Ida looked up at her and suddenly felt the urge to throw herself in the arms of her foster mother, who never had displayed any signs of affection before. But Ida really needed to be held right now, so she followed her urge and threw herself at Marie-Therese, putting her short arms around her waist and held her tight.
"Girl, you're shivering?" Marie-Therese said and put a hand on her back in an awkward attempt to hug her back. "What are you so afraid of? Was it Edwina?" Marie-Therese bent down and looked into Ida's eyes. "Did Edwina make that strange loud noise?"
Ida nodded, then threw herself in the arms of Marie-Therese again, not wanting to ever let go of her. Marie-Therese stroked her hair gently.
"Don't be afraid of her. She's nothing but a small girl, just like you," she said, but Ida could hear she didn't mean it. She wasn't convinced either, and that made Ida even more frightened.
"Her eyes," Ida stuttered. "I saw something in her eyes."
"What did you see in her eyes?"
"A girl. A small girl." Her voice was trembling. "She…she was looking out at me. It was like…it was like she was screaming."
Marie-Therese pulled Ida closer and it felt nice. It had been years since anyone last hugged Ida, and she had almost forgotten how wonderful it felt. She didn't want it to end, so she started crying while Marie-Therese began whispering strange words.
"We drive you from us, whoever you may be, unclean spirits, all Satanic powers, all infernal invaders, all wicked legions, assemblies, and sects. In the Name and by the power of Our Lord Jesus Christ, may you be snatched away and driven from the Church of God and from the souls made to the image and likeness of God and redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Divine Lamb."
Ida listened in as Marie-Therese did the sign of the cross on Edwina's door and started chanting words that, in a somewhat bizarre way, comforted her and made her heart calm down.
"In the Name of Jesus Christ, our God and Lord, strengthened by the intercession of the Immaculate Virgin Mary, Mother of God, of Blessed Michael the Archangel, of the blessed Apostles Peter and Paul and all the Saints. And powerful in the holy authority of our ministry, we confidently undertake to repulse the attacks and deceits of the devil."
Marie-Therese then put her hand on the door while mumbling words that Ida understood half of, only did she recognize God and Jesus and Virgin Mary among them.
Ida didn't understand how, but the words calmed her down, and Edwina remained quiet on the other side of the door, so maybe…just maybe it had an effect on her as well. Ida truly hoped so. She looked up at Marie-Therese with a newfound admiration for her foster mother and protector.
As Marie-Therese let go of Ida and she walked into the kitchen to begin preparing dinner, Ida tried to remember all the words, Marie-Therese had said. She wanted to know them, to be able to say them if she was ever confronted with Edwina like that again. Maybe she was even going to say them before bedtime tonight, to keep away the fear and the bad dreams she had suffered so horribly from the last several weeks.
As Ida prepared the roast in the kitchen, she heard sounds coming from Edwina's room and froze. Then she closed her eyes and started reciting some of the words she had heard Marie-Therese say outside the door. When she opened her eyes, Edwina had gone quiet again, and Ida sighed with relief.
She served the dinner and Sebastian (the third child living with them was seven years old and kept mostly in his room.) came out to eat as she knocked on his door. Then she called for Marie-Therese in the living room. Lastly, she walked with slow fearful steps towards Edwina's room, lifted her fist, and knocked on the door.
"Dinnertime!" she said as she always did, but this time with a slightly shivering voice. Then she walked fast back to the kitchen and sat down. Marie-Therese cut the roast and started filling her plate. She started shoveling food in her mouth with her fork. Sebastian followed her example. Ida had lost her appetite.
"Don't stop living on account of her," Marie-Therese said. "Eat."
The door to Edwina's room opened with a creaking sound. Marie-Therese stopped chewing. Ida froze.
Steps in the hallway. Then a face in the doorway. Edwina was looking at them. She walked to her chair and sat down. Her eyes met Ida's as she sat down, and Marie-Therese put some food on her plate. Ida took in a deep breath of relief as she again looked into Edwina's eyes and saw nothing in them. Then she felt like laughing at herself. Why was it she had been so scared of her earlier? Could it be that she had just been imagining things when she was in Edwina's room? Maybe that was it? Maybe she had just been silly. Ida scoffed at herself. T
hinking she had seen something in the little girl's eyes. Right now there seemed to be nothing wrong. She was sitting and eating quietly with her head bowed like she usually did. Why had Ida even been afraid of her? She was so small, even smaller than Sebastian. She couldn't hurt any of them even if she wanted to. It was all just in her imagination. Of course it was.
Ida's teacher had always told her that she had to keep feet on the ground. Ida had a vivid imagination and often her mind took off during classes, took her to a strange land with tigers flying, where she would spend her time among people who were the size of a matchbox. Ida always used her imagination as an escape from real life, especially in school.
That's it, she thought to herself feeling foolish. It's just my imagination.
Chapter Seventeen
Thomas was exhausted. Two hours of intensive training with his physical therapist did that to him. His trainer, Annie, didn't cut him any slack. She demanded he work for it, every day—even on a Sunday.
Now he was dragging himself towards the front door, walking on his own, and his muscles aching and hurting. He found his key in the pocket while leaning up against the door; he put the key in, turned it, and opened. Thomas almost fell inside the hallway where he threw off his shoes, let them stay on the floor, even though he knew Minna hated when he did that, dragged himself inside the living room, and threw his tired body on the couch, where he had lived ever since he returned from the hospital.
Thomas heard voices coming from upstairs, while he closed his eyes for just a second, just to rest a little bit. He was awakened by a door slamming and voices yelling. Then he heard steps on the stairs and opened his eyes. Through a haze, he saw Minna walking down, dragging something after her, letting it bump on each step on the way down. Then he opened his eyes widely.
"Minna?" He sat up.
She stopped and gazed at him for a few seconds. He could tell she had hoped he wouldn't be home yet. With much difficulty, he managed to get back up and take a few steps towards her.
"Minna? What are you doing? Where are you going with that suitcase?"
Minna sighed, but didn't look at him. She continued walking, dragging the suitcase after her. She reached the bottom of the stairs and started pulling the suitcase after her across the tiles. Thomas's heart was pounding now; he was filled with an overwhelming sadness.
"You can't leave me; you can't just leave us." He was talking loudly now, as if he somehow was trying to make up for the fact that he couldn't move fast enough to grab her and hold her back. "We need to work this out together."
Minna kept walking like he didn't exist.
Thomas threw himself towards her and, as he stumbled to the floor, he managed to grab her ankle and hold on to it firmly. She almost fell.
"Minna. Stop!" he begged. "You can't do this. Don't do this!"
He realized how pathetic he appeared, but he didn't care. If she went out that door, they would be done. He knew it. She knew it. If they didn't work things out right here, right now, then it was too late. They would grow apart. This thing that had come between them, whatever it was, would grow too big.
"I know I don't deserve it, but give me a chance," he said.
Minna turned and looked down at Thomas, who was lying on the floor, holding on to her ankle. She sighed deeply once again.
"Okay. I'll give you five minutes. Then I'm leaving."
Thomas managed to lift his body till he was sitting on his knees. He let go of her ankle, then pulled his hair back (or what was left of it after having lost most of it over the last three years, much to his regret). He reached out his hand towards her.
"A little help, please?" he said.
Minna snorted, then walked past him and sat in the recliner next to the couch. She looked at her watch. "I'm waiting," she said.
"Okay. If that's the way you want it, then so be it," he said, grabbed the dresser's edge, and pulled himself up with much effort. He sensed Minna's eyes on him as he dragged his heavy, sore body up from the floor. When he turned his head and their eyes met briefly, he could tell she was shocked to see what terrible shape he was in. He smiled to let her know he was fine; she didn't smile back, but, much to his joy, he sensed a small glimpse of affection for him in those beautiful brown eyes of hers.
"Be right there," he moaned, while getting back to his feet. Soon he was walking carefully towards the couch, while wondering how to say exactly the right words to make his wife stay with him.
Chapter Eighteen
Marie-Therese felt bad for Ida. She had seen how frightened the girl was after visiting Edwina in her room. And, to be frank, Marie-Therese was embarrassed to say she was a little scared as well of the tiny girl in the room down the hallway, even though she suddenly seemed perfectly normal at dinner.
Admittedly, there were moments during tonight's dinner that Marie-Therese doubted her own judgment of the girl. She even wondered how she could come off thinking those awful thoughts about such a small girl who had met nothing but rejection in her life. One minute she thought she had just been foolish and judgmental like her own mother, the next she wondered if Edwina was in fact in her room thinking of ways to kill them all and make it look like accidents. No, she refused to think that way about a child. Marie-Therese was just imagining things. She had to be. She believed in the good in this world; she believed in children. Wasn't that why she took them in? In her mind, she was the good one here. She was the one helping these children out, giving them a home and all. That made her about as holy as any saint, in her book. Edwina was nothing but a troubled little girl who never had anyone care for her properly. All the accidents and people getting sick couldn't really be her fault, could they?
Oh, but you know she's the very incarnation of evil in this world, don't you? You know she'll end up killing you if you're not careful.
They were done eating and all the children had gone back to their rooms, while Marie-Therese had gone back to her beloved TV. Normally, she would be dozing off at this point of the evening, but not this night. And it wasn't because her new neighbors were fighting, yelling at each other, crashing things, nor was it the eerie silence coming from the other neighbors who had recently lost their daughter; no, it was the thought of what the Bering twins had said to her after church that kept her wide awake and unable to follow her favorite show properly.
"There is a way," she repeated out loud to herself. The Way. What had they meant by that? Marie-Therese groaned. She hated riddles and people who thought it was clever to use them to tell her something. Why couldn't they just have told her what they meant? Would that be too much to ask? Now she was wondering like a crazy person, going through every word they said again and again.
Marie-Therese scoffed and turned up the sound on the TV to drown out the neighbor's shouting. She tried hard to forget everything about Edwina and the twins and focus on her show.
But she couldn't. How could she forget? The words kept swarming her mind and the twin's voices drowned out even the loud TV.
There is a way. The Way.
What on earth did they mean? Which way? Then it struck her.
"There really is a way," she said, then pulled out the phone book underneath the end table. She flipped the pages frantically. Then she closed it again. What was she even thinking? People like that weren't listed in the phone book. How silly you are, she thought to herself. She would have to seek them out on her own.
Next morning when the kids had gone off to school, she took the car out. She hadn't driven since she was a teenager and got her license. She never needed to, since she could walk to everything in her small hometown. The car was really her mother's, but she never used it either. Marie-Therese's father had bought it when she was just a kid, and back then they only drove in it on Sundays, since gas was way too expensive, her father stated, and since he knew how to take good care of a car of this caliber so it would stay pretty for always. The car had been his baby, really. More than Marie-Therese had ever been, and no one dared to touch it, let alone us
e it.
Now as she opened the garage door, she felt a pinch in her heart. She stroked it gently as she walked towards the door, remembering how jealous of it she had been from time to time, how she had loathed it and loathed her father for spending so many hours taking care of it instead of attending to her. It was an old Volkswagen from 1952, but looked like it was brand new. Marie-Therese shivered in awe as she turned the key in the ignition and the motor roared. Then she put it in gear and pressed the gas pedal down and left her driveway.
She swung the car up the road towards the forest, where she knew the religious group known as "The Way" had just moved in, in an old campsite.
Chapter Nineteen
They had been going at it all night. Emma and Paul had been yelling and screaming at each other all night long. Now Paul had enough. It was morning and he was sick of listening to that woman go on and on about all her "nest building." He would have none of it. He had agreed to move because he thought it would make her happy, get her off his back and maybe…just maybe she would stop nagging him for once and get busy doing other things. But the last twenty-four hours, she had done nothing but boss him around, yelling at him for putting things in the wrongs spots, things that according to her everybody could see didn't fit there. Well, excuse me for not being an expert on interior design, Paul thought to himself, as he slammed the front door and ran towards the car in the driveway. He could still hear her voice as he turned on the engine and the motor roared. He sighed deeply as the noise from the motor drowned out her angry voice. Paul simply didn't understand what was going on with her lately. They used to be fine. They used to hang out and have a great time together. Yes, they would fight every now and then, and then have great make-up sex on a piece of furniture; he knew their relationship wasn't like most people's, but he found it great the way it was. It was passionate and never ever boring. She was never boring. Paul loved the way her eyes would sparkle when she got mad, the feistiness that went so well with her red hair and green eyes. Oh, boy, how he loved it. It turned him on like nothing else in this world. But lately it had been a little over the top. She was constantly angry with him and, to be frank, he didn't enjoy it as much as he used to. Not when it meant he couldn't watch the soccer game on Sunday evenings, (on top of it, his favorite team in Champions League) or when he couldn't have a quiet beer in his chair while reading the sports section of the paper.