“Yes. Apparently they started a love affair sometime during the fall semester when Helena was in her second year. According to Nordstrom, they made plans to meet during Christmas vacation. Then the relationship must have continued through the whole spring, because it ended sometime during the summer. The teacher, Jan Hagman, was married and had children and evidently decided to stay with his wife. When the fall came, he started teaching at a different school.”
“Do we know whether he still lives on the island? The teacher, that is?” said Kihlgard, using his radar eyes to search the collection of pizza boxes on the table. There might be a piece of crust left.
“Yes, he lives in the southern part of Gotland. Jacobsson and Wittberg were out there a few months ago. His wife committed suicide.”
“Is that right?” Kihlgard raised his eyebrows. “So the guy’s a widower. How old is he?”
“Hagman was supposedly in his forties when they were together, which means that he was more than twice Helena’s age. Today he should be around sixty.”
The evening sun flooded in over the kitchen benches, lighting up the children’s hair in its glow. Emma leaned down over Filip and drew in his scent with a feeling of pleasure. His soft blond hair tickled her nose.
“Mmmm, you smell good. Mamma’s little sweetie,” she said tenderly, and then moved over to her daughter. Sara’s hair was thicker and darker, like her own. She took in another deep breath. The same tickling in her nose.
“Mmmm,” she said again. “You smell so wonderful, sweetheart.” She stroked her daughter’s head. “You’re both my little darlings. That’s what you are.”
Emma sat down next to them at the counter in the middle of the big open kitchen. It was the room she liked best in their house. She and Olle had built the kitchen themselves. Part of it, where they were now sitting, was the work area, with clinker bricks on the floor, beautiful tiles above the sink, and a big island with a free-hanging vent over the stove. She loved to stand there and cook. At the same time, she could savor the view through the windows facing the garden. There was even room for four place settings, perfect for a quick breakfast or a drink before dinner with good friends. A couple of steps led down to the dining area with the oiled pine floor, the sturdy beams in the ceiling, and the big rustic table. The windows that opened onto all sides meant that her kitchen plants flourished there, just as she did.
The children were perched on tall bar stools, drinking chocolate milk and eating warm cinnamon rolls. It was their treat after the sting of shampoo in their eyes and water that was alternately too cold or too hot as their mother sprayed it over them in the shower they had just taken.
Emma watched them as they ate. Sara, seven years old and just finished with first grade. Cheerful, popular, a good student, with dark eyes and rosy cheeks. Things have been going well so far, she thought gratefully. Her gaze shifted to Filip, who was six. Blond, with a fair complexion, blue eyes, and dimples in his cheeks, good-natured but rowdy. Only a little more than a year between them. She was happy about that now.
It was rough in the beginning, though, with a child on each arm. Sara hadn’t even learned to walk yet when Filip was born, and Emma wasn’t finished with her degree. She had kept on plugging away during her last year at the teachers’ college, with one baby at her breast and another in her belly. Now she couldn’t understand how she did it, but it had all worked out-with a lot of help from Olle, of course. At the time he was also in his last year, working on a degree in economics, so they had taken turns tending to the babies and studying. It had been a struggle, what with the kids, little money, and difficult studies. Back then they were living in a sublet apartment in Stockholm. She smiled when she thought about how she had lugged around a double baby buggy, bought bruised tomatoes cheap at the Rimi supermarket, and how they had used cloth diapers with plastic ties. It was a matter of saving money as well as doing their part for the environment. In the evenings Olle would sit and fold diapers while he watched the news on TV and she nursed the baby. What a struggle it had been. Yet at the same time, their love had blossomed, and they had shared everything with each other.
Back then she thought they would stay together forever. Now she was no longer so sure.
Sara gave a big yawn. It was eight o’clock. Time for bed. After the kids brushed their teeth, Emma read them a short story and kissed them goodnight. Then she sat down on one of the sofas in the living room. She didn’t bother to turn on the TV, just looked out the window. The sun was still high in the sky. Strange how a person’s perspective changes with the light, she thought. Right now, with the garden bathed in light, it seemed absurd to put the children to bed. In December it would seem like bedtime at four in the afternoon.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and curled up in a corner of the sofa. Then her thoughts wandered back in time.
Of course things were good between her and Olle for a long time. When the kids were little, she had scrupulously made sure that they had their cozy dinners on Friday night, in spite of the children crying and the necessity of changing diapers. Many a night they had sat at the table with the candles lit while one of them rocked the children to sleep and the other ate before the food got cold. But sometimes things worked out well, and those moments were precious, she thought.
They hadn’t neglected each other just because they had children. That was a mistake that plenty of couples in their circle of friends had made, and it often resulted in divorce. But Emma and Olle kept on having fun together, laughing and joking, at least for the first few years. Back then Olle would often buy her flowers and tell her how beautiful she was. She had never felt so fufilled with anyone else.
Even after she put on almost sixty-five pounds when she was pregnant with their first child, he had looked at her naked body with admiration and said, “Sweetheart, you’re so sexy.”
She had believed him. When they strolled through town she had felt so pretty, at least until she caught sight of her own image in a shop window and realized that she was three times bigger than her husband.
They had carefully guarded their love, and she had been in love with him for a long time.
During the past two years, something had happened. She couldn’t really pinpoint when the change occurred; she just knew that it had.
It started with their sex life. She thought it seemed more and more dreary and increasingly predictable. Olle did what he could, but she had trouble feeling any real desire. Of course they still made love with each other, although less and less frequently. Most often she was only interested in putting on a soft nightgown and reading a good book until her eyes fell shut. Deep inside, a feeling of discontent began gnawing at her. Would they ever get back to the sex life they had shared before? She had her doubts.
Other things had changed, too. Nowadays Olle had a tendency to work like a dog during the week, and that seemed to be enough for him. He apparently had no need to think up fun things to do with her anymore. If they happened to go out to eat or to a movie, she was the one who had to make the arrangements. Olle was happy to stay at home. The bouquets of tulips and the personal compliments were getting to be few and far between. That was a big difference compared to the first years, and it became even greater with time.
She looked out the window again. Olle was at a conference on the mainland. He’d be gone for three days. He had called twice today, sounding worried. He wanted to know how she was doing. Of course she appreciated his concern, but at the moment she just wanted to be left in peace.
Her thoughts shifted to Johan. She couldn’t see him again. It was impossible. Things had already gone too far. But she was astonished by how he made her feel. She had forgotten what that was like. She had such a wild desire for him. In some strange way it had felt so right. As if she were entitled to feel that way and her whole body were meant to burn like that. Johan made her feel alive, like a whole person.