Rakel felt like she couldn’t breathe. The sheriff was still underwater, and the mill wheel was starting to run! He was going to be crushed. She took a step into the pool, towards the deep water. Her father shouted that she couldn’t swim and that she should stay on land until he came down, but Rakel didn’t care. She kept wading, trying to see through the murky water.
“Bergan! Where are you?” she shouted desperately. Fear clutched her chest – but then he popped out of the water right in front of her.
“Thank God!” she said, stumbling back a few steps.
“Rakel?” The sheriff looked bewildered when he spotted her, but then he smiled. “Did you come out to save me?” She saw he had a red mark on one temple, but that was all.
She was so relieved she could cry, but then she was angry – both at him and herself for feeling this way. She was about to give him a sharp retort, but then she realised she was standing in the water. The mill wheel was running, and she felt the stream increasing in power. The water swirled around her, and the old fear came back with full force.
She started making her way back towards the shore, but the stones were slippery, and she lost her balance. She didn’t fall but one hand splashed down, spurting water in her face. She gasped desperately for breath.
There was water everywhere! Her knees failed her, and she couldn’t move any further – but then the sheriff was right behind her. He held her around the waist and pulled her over to the bank, where her father came running. He took her hands and pulled her up on land. She was grateful he wrapped his arms around her so she could lean against him for a moment and collect herself.
“My dear girl,” her father said softly into her hair. “Did you forget you’re afraid of water?”
“Is she afraid of water?” the sheriff asked in surprise.
“Yes. She fell in a river when she was a little girl,” her father explained. “She doesn’t know how to swim.”
She wanted to ask her father to stop; she didn’t want Bergan to know about this weakness.
“I didn’t know that,” she heard the sheriff reply.
Fantastic, she thought sulkily. Now he’s really going to think you care about him.
Rakel sat down in the grass a good distance away from the river. She kept her back turned to the sheriff to avoid meeting his eyes. Her skirt was soaking wet but was drying quickly in the hot sun.
She was happy that her father and the sheriff were leaving her alone. They were busy with getting the mill wheel going properly. It was turning, but not running as smoothly as it should. The wheel creaked painfully and scraped against the brick wall of the mill at irregular intervals. The two men discussed what could be wrong and tried different solutions. There was no doubt that they were going to run the mill together.
Rakel listened to the sheriff’s calm, quiet voice, and a shiver went down her spine. Dear God, what had she done? She felt exposed. Now Bergan probably thought she had feelings for him.
“Are you dry again?” The sheriff’s voice sounded behind her, and she whirled around.
“You scared me!” she replied hotly. “Why did you sneak up on me like that?”
“I wasn’t aware that I was,” he replied, sitting down in the grass beside her. “Were you lost in your thoughts?”
“What do you want?” she asked without looking at him. She tried to focus on a bee diving into a bluebell.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I’m fine,” she replied brusquely.
“Alright,” he said. There was disappointment in his voice which reminded her of their argument the day before. She was supposed to ask for his forgiveness – that was why she’d come down here in the first place – and now he was getting ready to leave.
“Wait,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Don’t go. I have something to say to you.”
He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves and his forearm was warm from the sun. She felt the muscles and tendons along his wrist tensing beneath her hand.
He sat back down without freeing himself from her grip. She was the one who let go after a moment, pulling her hand back uncertainly. Then she looked up at him. His long hair had almost dried in the sun and was hanging loosely around his shoulders. His grey eyes were dark with intense concentration. He looked hesitant.
“I owe you an apology,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be crass with you outside the church.”
His eyes lit up a bit and he looked surprised.
“I don’t know why I was like that, and I’m truly sorry,” she continued. “I want you to know that I’m deeply grateful for your help.”
“Thank you, Rakel,” he said. “I appreciate you saying that.”
“Can I ask you something?” she said. “About Svartangen?”
He turned to face her.
“Ask away.”
“What actually happened when you and my father were down there the day they decided I would marry Syver?”
The sheriff grimaced and shifted his gaze back over the river again. At first, she thought he didn’t want to talk, but then he sighed heavily.
“Not much, really,” he began. “Svartangen refused to hand over the deed and threatened to call off the deal if your father didn’t accept it right then and there.”
“And he did,” she said sadly.
“Not right away,” he replied. “We spoke privately and agreed that I would continue to investigate. Your father thought it would be better to do it in secret so Svartangen would think he’d given up.”
“So he didn’t give me up just like that?” she asked cautiously.
“No, he didn’t.”
“I’m pleased to hear that,” she replied.
“Is it true that Herr Disen said he would help your father in the case against Svartangen?” he asked abruptly.
“Yes,” she replied. “He knows about these sorts of things, and Father can use the help.”
“He doesn’t want to help your father, Rakel. He’s doing it to get closer to you.”
Rakel looked at the ground.
“Is there anything wrong with that?” she asked, absentmindedly stroking a dandelion. A light breeze carried its white seeds across the river.
“I don’t trust him,” he replied shortly. “A teacher and church singer who’s also a solicitor? Why did he leave a career as a solicitor in Christiania to be a teacher in Carljohansværn?”
“He’s told me why,” she replied. “And he has good reason.”
Bergan raised a sceptical eyebrow.
“Something’s not quite right with him,” he said. “No one is that perfect. I refuse to believe it.”
“Believe whatever you want,” she replied, standing up. “But I’m not going to sit here and listen to you bad-mouth a man I have great respect for. Farewell, sheriff,” she said as she started to leave.
“You know I’m right, little witch,” he said to her back.
She stopped and considered responding to him. He provoked her with his accusations and by addressing her so unashamedly. But, if she knew him correctly, he’d just be amused if she snapped back. She didn’t want to give him that pleasure, so she left without another word.
Rakel went on a long walk that evening. Bergan and her father had gotten the mill wheel working and had stopped for the day. They hadn’t been able to find evidence of who was behind the explosion, though.
The sun was low and coloured the sky red over the dark treetops. Thoughts swirled around in her head. Her conversation with Bergan hadn’t given her any peace, especially not the way they’d parted. She crossed her arms and sped up. Who did he think he was, talking about Herr Disen like that?
She walked north and soon found herself at the edge of the property. It was thick with bushes that separated the main road from their land, and Svartangen Farm lay to the west. Only the field where Eilert had been clearing stones a couple of months ago lay between them.
She sat down on a stump, wondering what was going on over there now. After the dam was blown up and her father blamed Svartangen, things had been strangely quiet. It felt like the calm before the storm. The hair stood up on her arms, and she shuddered as the sun sank below the treetops. Even though it was early August, the days were already much shorter, and night was soon upon her. She peered up at the sky and watched the familiar stars slowly come into view. The Plough was what her father called the collection of stars that looked like a cart – the one she dreamt of every now and again.
There was a rustling in the bushes along the field and Rakel jumped. She lifted a hand and clutched the cross around her neck. It’s just an animal, she said to herself. Nothing to be afraid of. Still, her heart thudded in her chest while she looked around, trying to figure out where the sound had come from.
“Frøken Ovreid?” a faint voice spoke.
“Eilert?” she said and got up from the stump. “Is that you?”
A small figure appeared out of the bushes and stood beside her.
“I saw you sitting here,” he said cautiously. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?”
“No, not at all,” she replied. “I’ve been wondering how you and your mother are doing.”
He looked down and shrugged.
“Same as before.” He kicked at the ground with one foot.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said quietly. “If I just…”
“Don’t worry about that, Frøken Ovreid,” he interrupted. “You’ve done so much for us. Mother is much better. She’s almost completely healthy now.”
Rakel felt warm with happiness. She’d overheard Ingvald Svartangen tell that to her father, but it was something else entirely to hear it from Eilert.
“I’m so happy to hear that,” she replied.
“But the priest wasn’t so happy,” Eilert said, a perplexed look on his face.
“What do you mean?” she asked in surprise.
“He stopped by the other day. He became quite strange when he saw Mother. He talked about how the doctor had said she was dying, and he looked almost angry when he realised that wasn’t the case. He said it was abnormal. That such things shouldn’t happen.”
Tears shone in Eilert’s eyes. “Do you think he didn’t want mother to get well?”
“I’m sure he did, Eilert,” Rakel said. “I suppose he was just surprised that she was so much better than he’d expected. When he gets used to the idea, I’m sure he’ll be happy, too.”
Rakel said it to comfort him – because it wasn’t surprising that the priest didn’t like what had happened. He thought there was an evil in the village, and that the recovery was unnatural. But how could he see evil in the fact that Eilert’s mother was healthy again?
Rakel shook her head.
“I hope so,” Eilert said. “But I didn’t say anything. About you helping us, I mean.” “I appreciate that,” she replied honestly. “It’s probably best that no one knows.”
“Yes, I think so, too,” Eilert replied, sounding more mature than his young age. Then he lit up suddenly. “I saw the dog again!” he said eagerly. “It came onto the schoolyard and licked my hand. But Herr Disen thought it was dangerous, so he chased it off.”
“He thought it was dangerous?” she repeated.
“Yes, but he felt sorry when I told him it was nice. He was just looking out for me.”
Rakel felt a bit sad; it seemed like Herr Disen was sceptical of all animals.
“I’m sure the dog will come back, Eilert, now that it knows where to find you,” she said. “But what do you have there?” She pointed at his hand, where he was holding something that looked like a bunch of turnips.
“I have a little vegetable garden in there,” he said, pointing at the bushes. “When I cleared the field earlier this year, I also cleared a patch of earth. The neighbour on the other side of the road gave me some seeds that I sowed. He’s kind, Frøken Ovreid, just like you.”
She smiled at him.
“Herr Alvdalen is a good man.”
“Yes, but his son’s fiancée is an angry woman. She chased me off the path between Alvdalen and Gråtjønngården a few days ago.”
“Did she?” Rakel asked in surprise.
The path was on the border of the two farms and had been used by the villagers for years. There was never anyone who had had an issue with it. Besides, the path belonged to Gråtjønngården, not Alvdalen.
“Yes, she screamed at me and told me to get lost,” Eilert continued. “She said the blueberries belonged to Alvdalen Farm.”
“That’s nonsense,” Rakel replied. She’d heard about the impending wedding and that the fiancée of the man set to inherit the farm was a bit of a dynamo – but talking to a small, hungry boy like that was silly. “As far as I know, the path doesn’t even belong to Alvdalen Farm, so she had no right to chase you off.”
“Herr Alvdalen says I shouldn’t worry about it. He says I can walk in the woods as much as I want. He was going to speak with her.”
“Then I’m sure he will,” he said. “You can trust him. And you’ve done such a good job at tilling the soil all on your own!” she continued, trying to change the subject.
He squirmed shyly. “It’s just a small field for Mother and me. But please don’t say anything to Svartangen,” he added. “He wouldn’t like it.”
“I won’t say a word,” she replied quickly. “Cross my heart.” She looked up at the sky. Now, there wasn’t even a streak of red left, and darkness enshrouded them. “I think you should run home now,” she said. “I’m sure your mother is wondering where you are.”
“Are you also going in, Frøken Ovreid? So nothing happens to you?” He sounded worried, and Rakel smiled at him.
“Thank you for your being so thoughtful, Eilert, and yes. I’ll also go to bed now. But I’m happy I saw you tonight. If anything happens that frightens you, I want you to come straight to Ovreid.”
“Yes, Frøken Ovreid,” he replied. “But I think it will be fine. Syver is always drinking at the tavern, so he’s almost never home.”
So that’s where he’s been, she thought. Then it wasn’t that strange it was so quiet here.
“Be careful when you cross the bridge,” she said to Eilert. “The water from the dam is still high in the river, so it could be slippery.”
“I will, Frøken Ovreid. Good night.”
“Good night, Eilert,” she replied and started heading home.
Rakel was almost at the house when she heard someone coming up from the river. Had Eilert come back? When she turned, she recognised the silhouette of none other than Ingvald Svartangen. She slipped behind a bush and hid.
He walked to the edge of the field and stopped there. It looked like he was waiting for someone. Then she heard a creaking from the kitchen door and backed further behind the bush. She spotted her grandmother coming out and hastening down towards the field where Svartangen was waiting.
“Ingvald, where are you?” she whispered into the dark.
Rakel raised an eyebrow. Were they on a first-name basis?
He came closer and met her grandmother right beside the bush where Rakel was hiding.
“He’s planning something,” her grandmother whispered. “I don’t know what since they’re trying to keep it hidden from me. But my bedroom is right above the office and I can hear a bit when I listen through the floor.”
Rakel’s jaw almost dropped. So that was why her grandmother was keeping to her bedroom!
“A solicitor has been here,” her grandmother continued. “And they have long conversations.”
“It’s about the deed,” Ingvald Svartangen replied sharply. “He’s found out that it isn’t valid.”
“That’s not all,” her grandmother replied. “There’s something more. I think it’s serious. If this deed isn’t valid, the first one might not be, either. I think that’s what they’ve been talking about.” “What are you saying?” he asked, stunned. “That Svartangen Farm still belongs to Ovreid?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” her grandmother replied. “But you don’t need to worry. If that’s the case, I have a plan. Halvor won’t take your livelihood away from you, Ingvald,” she added.
To Rakel’s horror, she saw that her grandmother lifted a hand – and lovingly stroked his cheek.