41

Stavanger, Rogaland County, Norway

At the Stavanger airport arrivals area, Esben spotted Solveig and Frida and a bouncing Isak and Karoline amid the throng.

The impact of Frida and the children running to hug him all at once sent a sharp but fleeting pain to his hips and back. He let go of his luggage, mussed the hair of Isak and Karoline, then took Frida into his arms.

Three years. He had not hugged his daughter in three years.

“Hjerta mitt,” he whispered, trying not to cry.

“English, Dad,” she said, her head pressed to his torso.

My heart. “It sounds odd in English.”

Esben had not brought gifts home from Canada in years. Granted, since Lina’s miscarriage, he had not been himself. But the real Esben, the one whose world wasn’t muted to greys, who saw meaning in life’s simplest pleasures, bought gifts for those he loved. And sometimes, even for himself.

“Thanks, Uncle Ben!” Karoline squealed as she ran away with her new plush polar bear, a gift from the Gander International Airport.

Isak was happy with his t-shirt emblazoned with Canada and a maple leaf. Solveig loved the leaf-shaped bottle of maple syrup. And Frida, thankfully, appreciated her rainbow flag maple leaf mug, a gift suggested by Kate.

In his luggage, still tucked away, was maple candy for himself.

“How has she been?” Esben asked Solveig after Frida went with her cousins to the park.

“Better. The difference in attitude from months ago to now, she’s a different person. Lina must have planted ideas in her mind.”

He grumbled. “I don’t know what to do about Lina. Was what she did abuse?”

Solveig gave him a dismal look. “Lina was abusive to you. Not always, just the last few years. Marit doesn’t see it, but I do. I didn’t see it before…you…” She frowned. “But after, I realized, yeah, Lina was terrible to you after the miscarriage. All these bottled-up feelings poured out. Not because of the miscarriage itself, but perhaps she felt it necessary to speak her mind.” She sighed and stroked her long blond braid. “I hate that I didn’t see it, how little Frida ate when she stayed here.”

“I did not see it, either. She was skipping breakfasts and lying about it.”

Solveig clutched his hand, and he gave it a squeeze.

“Have you met Jenny?” he asked.

Solveig grinned. “Not yet. She’s a cute kid, though. Canadian. Her mother moved here for work, and her father does freelance stuff online, so they all came.”

“English,” he said in English, mimicking Frida’s demanding tone.

“Yep. I assumed Frida was trying to be cosmopolitan.”

Esben ran his palm over his right forearm and readjusted his posture. “Lina wants to remediate.”

“Are you going to ask for sole custody?”

He had considered this during his day of travel. “No. I do not want to keep them apart. But I may work in a clause suggesting Lina go to therapy.”

“You think Lina needs therapy?”

“I think everyone needs therapy at some point.”

The conversation lulled, and Esben considered whether to tell Solveig about Kate.

There was no good reason not to.

“Custody may be complicated,” he said, “now that I…eh…” He pressed his fingertips together one by one. Ein-to-tre-fire. Ein-to-tre-fire. “I got together with someone.”

Solveig’s face lit up, then darkened. “In Canada?”

“Eh… Do you remember, long ago, when I went to that field school not far from here?”

“The one you couldn’t shut up about for months? Yes, I remember.”

Ein-to-tre-fire. “Do you remember Kate the American?”

Solveig’s eyes widened again, and her jaw slackened. “Oh, wow.”

Heat rushed to his face and ears. “Yeah.”

“Photos. I need photos.”

Esben scrolled through his phone’s photo album until he found his favorite—a shot Kate had taken while they had lounged on the blanket. Her smiling at the camera, him kissing her temple. He wanted to frame it. He passed his phone to Solveig, who gasped upon seeing the photo.

“Oh, Esben…”

She flicked through the photos, then paused on one he had taken of Kate. They had been in his hillside sanctuary. Sunlight broke through the canopy in pieces, and Kate looked like an incomplete jigsaw puzzle, half her Mona Lisa smile hidden by shade.

“You’re leaving for her,” Solveig said, a solemn but assertive declaration.

“I don’t know. One day at a time.”

“No, Esben.” She sniffled and smiled sadly at him. “You will. And it’s okay. You should be wherever you’re happiest.”

When a message from Kate came in, he tried to reclaim his phone, but Solveig shooed his hand away.