I let out a sharp laugh. “Why, you were the one who stuck by him. That has to count for something.”
“I had as much reason to want him dead as anyone.” Jonas moaned, then rolled his body sideways and stood. “I can’t talk about this any more now. Claire and Gunnar are home.” Jonas rubbed a hand through his hair as he walked towards the backdoor to meet them.
I realized then that I’d heard tires crunching on the snow in the driveway even while my brain was taking in what Jonas had said. I kept my eyes on Jonas, but my mind was scrambling to make sense of what he’d revealed. What had happened between Dad and Jonas that could have Jonas wanting him dead? We’d all have understood if I’d done the murderous deed, but that anger was a long time past. I stared at Jonas’s back, at the way his shoulders hunched forward and his hand rubbed the nape of his neck. He was more than just worried. Something was on his conscience. My stomach clenched in a spasm of dread. I’d always wondered what would happen if Jonas was pushed too far. I wished for that moment that I had never left the safety of Sam and Ottawa.
I’d lived a coward’s life, avoiding anything that resembled strong emotion. I’d done it deliberately, accepting the sacrifices it had caused. My whole adult life had been spent avoiding just what lay before me now...and I would give anything to go back into the safety of my cocoon, back to the time before Claire’s phone message had burst the illusion.
Claire and Gunnar brought in a blast of cold air and a lot of activity that eased the tension that had built up in the kitchen between me and Jonas. Gunnar was a slender blond boy, as Jonas had been at the same age, a jumble of gangly legs and arms that marked the beginning of his transformation into a man. He had Claire’s eyes, soft, dreamy orbs that seemed to look right through you into another world. He accepted my hug without hugging me back before stepping back beside his father.
Claire wrapped her arms around my back and squeezed. She smelled of vanilla and Ivory soap. “So glad you’re here,” she whispered into my ear. “Come with me into the living room. Jonas will put the groceries away and start supper. He loves to cook.”
“I’ll bring you some wine in a minute,” Jonas said, already pulling food out of a bag on the counter. “Sure, you can have a cookie before dinner, but just one,” I heard him say to Gunnar as we started down the hallway. “Aunt Maja has brought pie for dessert.”
The living room was lined with pine and as cozy a room as I’d ever been in. Logs burned in the stone fireplace, radiating a circle of heat into which we lowered ourselves after a quick tour of the room. We sat facing each other at each end of a deep, velvet-covered couch. A hooked rug of brown, red and plum rested cheerfully under my feet. Claire tucked a long leg under herself and leaned back into the pillows. “This is my one indulgence,” she said, rubbing her hand along the couch’s plush surface.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “The bottle green colour is exquisite.”
“I know it’s impractical, but sometimes you just have to go with something you like and to hell with the consequences.” She laughed, and her grey eyes narrowed as she looked past me. I turned and saw Jonas standing by the bookcase holding two glasses of white wine. His eyes lowered quickly, but the set line of his mouth let me know that he was not happy. He’d have been running a hand through his blonde curls if not for the wine.
“Thanks, darling,” Claire said, reaching toward Jonas. Her long elegant fingers closed around both glasses, and she passed one over to me. Gold bracelets clinked and slid down her arm. She was wearing a tight black turtleneck that showed off her muscular arms and boyish chest. Claire had been a champion cross country skier in her early twenties and obviously still worked at staying in shape. She’d cut her black hair short and spiky, and I thought it suited the strong lines of her face.
“Supper in an hour,” Jonas said before disappearing back into the kitchen.
“Thanks, hon.” Claire took a mouthful of wine and looked at me over the rim of the glass. “Has he told you about finding your father?”
I nodded. It looked like I wasn’t the only one who could cut to the chase. “It’s absolutely ridiculous that anyone would think Jonas capable of murder. I don’t care how many times he grabbed the shovel.”
“I know. It’s craziness.” Claire’s fingers slid up and down the stem of the wine glass. I noticed how pale her skin was now that the rosy glow on her cheeks from the frosty outdoors had disappeared. Her eyes were tired and haunted. “He won’t talk to me about what happened.” She bit her lip. “We’ve had a hard day. We’re both tired, and we had words this morning. Please know it’s nothing, Maja. I stand behind Jonas a hundred per cent.”
“I know that, Claire,” I said. “We’ll get through this. Truth has a way of coming out.”
I took a long drink of wine, looking away and pretending not to notice the tear that was sliding down Claire’s cheek.
“We’ve...we’ve drifted apart,” she said, and at first I thought she meant me and her. I opened my mouth to reassure her that time had not changed us, but she spoke again before I did. “He needs constant reassurance, and the down times...it’s been hard. Jonas has so many secrets, and I’m not a saint. How could I be?” Her voice lowered and tailed away. She seemed to want me to understand something that I was beyond comprehending. It was a shock to know that she and Jonas were in difficulty—a shock, but perhaps, not unexpected. I stared into her grey eyes, wide with torment and another emotion that looked a lot like fear.
“Jonas loves you,” I said by way of benediction. “Love will get you through the worst.”
“Will it, Maja? Will it really?”
“Yes,” I said, but I turned my eyes away from hers to settle on the flames dancing up from the crackling pine logs in the cast iron grate.
The next morning I woke early. I tried falling back to sleep, but too many thoughts were clamouring for attention. After a restless hour, I rose and dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a red fleece pullover before making my way into the kitchen. Claire had set up the coffee maker the night before with instructions to turn it on if I got up first. After two cups and a bowl of cereal and blueberries, I was ready to face the day and went in search of my boots and coat.
The rest of the household was still asleep when I stepped outside into a bitterly cold day. Sometime during the night, a north wind had blown away the cloud cover, and a high pressure system had pushed its way in. Already the sky was turning from black to midnight blue and frosted orange as the sun slipped over the tree line. Every so often weak, silvery sunshine glistened through the trees, casting slender lines of brightness in the snow. I’d gratefully accepted Claire’s offer of her parka the night before and nestled into its fur-lined warmth. The coat fit well even though I was not as tall or slender as her.
I was relieved when my car started after two tries. I let it idle while I cleaned off the roof and windshields with a snow scraper. As I worked, my breath came in moist, white puffs as though I were chain smoking. With the plummeting temperature, the car should have been plugged in overnight, but it hadn’t come with a block heater. It seemed negligent in this country, but the man who’d given me the keys hadn’t had many to choose from in his lot. This particular car had just been driven up from Florida by a businessman. If I hadn’t been in such a hurry to see Jonas, I’d have taken a taxi to a rental place in town, but I was too anxious to spend the extra hour driving into Duluth. The rental guy had assured me that the car would start no problem, but his confidence wasn’t much help with the frigid temperatures in Northern Minnesota.
The drive to Dad’s house took all of fifteen minutes. If the roads hadn’t been slick with ice, I’d have made it in ten. The route took me to the outskirts of the village, the road hugging the shoreline and winding slowly north. My car’s tires valiantly gripped the road as I crept at a turtle’s speed up a steep hill and deeper into the woods. Luckily,