“It’s not that, it’s the children. I ...” She glanced at their bedroom door.
“I get it,” he interrupted her. “You don’t need to explain.” He slowly released her, gave her a kiss on the lips, and tucked her hair behind her ears. “It’s late, and I’m guessing Matias will want to make an early start on our fishing trip in the morning,” he said with a smile.
Tuula nodded slowly as she buttoned up her shirt.
They washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen, and then they said good night and went to their respective rooms. Tuula crawled into bed, but the silence made her feel restless. She tossed and turned, her desire for Nils pulsating through her entire body. She couldn’t just lie here. What should she do? Go for a dip in the lake to cool her burning passion? She sighed and sat up in bed. There was only one thing she wanted to do. She got up, opened the door, tiptoed along to the children’s room, and pushed the door open a fraction to check that they were both asleep. Then she headed for Nils’s bedroom.
He was standing there waiting for her. She threw herself into his arms, kicked the door shut behind her, and at long last they fell into bed together.
She pulled off his shirt and lay down on top of him. Inhaled his smell, kissed his neck. He took off her nightgown and cupped her breasts gently in his hands before he began to stroke them. She rolledonto her back, longing to have him inside her. He settled beside her, caressing her whole body.
What’s going on?she thought. Wasn’t he going to thrust himself into her? But no, he carried on stroking her slowly, every part of her, and her desire continued to build. His index finger circled her nipples, and she shuddered with pleasure, unable to contain her desire.
“I want to feel every bit of you,” he whispered. “And I want you to enjoy it.”
His hand moved to her stomach, then to her more intimate parts. He slipped a finger inside her. She whimpered. She wasn’t used to this. Juhani had been a tender lover, but it had all been over quite quickly. He had never taken his time like this, and she had never felt such pleasure.
He found the magic spot. Nils took his time, and Tuula’s pleasure grew and grew until she could no longer resist him. She pressed herself to him, kissing him and muffling a scream against his neck as the dam broke, leaving her whole body trembling.
She lay beside him, panting. “That was ...,” she gasped, unable to complete the sentence.
It wasn’t long before she wanted more. More ofhim.
She began to kiss him again and ran her hands over his broad chest. Caressed the nape of his neck, his curly hair. She wanted to feel all of him. Her hands moved down to his manhood. She wanted him, wanted him inside her.
“Please,” she whispered.
In the half light she saw his eyes sparkle, and those soft, full lips smiling. He rolled on top of her, kissing her as he entered her. He began to move rhythmically, and she heard herself moaning with each thrust. She pressed her hips against his, wanting him deeper inside her. He started to stroke that magic spot again, moving faster and faster as she responded. Then he let out a groan and gasped. She felt him grow inside her, and her pleasure spilled over again. Two more hard thrusts, and then he collapsed on top of her.
She would never be able to make love with another man. Not as long as Nils Eklund existed.
The days they spent at the cottage were like a long, blissful dream. The sun never stopped shining, they swam in the mornings, had lunch on the terrace, and in the afternoons they went for walks in the forest or Nils took the children fishing. They cooked and baked together. Tried out new recipes for bread and buns. Ate Tuula’s Tasty Bread for breakfast with butter and thick slices of cheese, made sandwiches with it for afternoon picnics. She didn’t want to return to Almtorp, and felt a pang of anxiety whenever she thought about the village. She worried the hatred toward the Finns would escalate when she was back.
On their last afternoon, Tuula had just put a batch of rolls in the oven and was standing on the terrace. Nils and the children were down on the jetty catching roach. She listened to the sound of a woodpecker hammering on a nearby tree as the smell of the bread reached her nostrils. She felt a strange sense of calm. Happiness, maybe? Perhaps she could begin to leave all her past difficulties behind her. Being here in this cottage with Nils and the children, it was as if she had become a different person, not the Tuula who was constantly thinking about the war, who lay awake at night thinking about her hometown and the house she had left behind. Her friends. Her mother and father. And Juhani, dead in a trench.
Here she was Tuula who had brought a pile of novels on vacation with her. Tuula who worked as a baker, swam in a lake, and spent her free time coming up with new recipes for cookies, buns, and bread. Tuula who weeded the flower beds around the cottage and packed picnic baskets for afternoon outings. Tuula who was in love.
Because it was true. She was in love with Nils. Everything was so easy, so carefree with him. He enjoyed beautiful sunsets, excellent dinners at the Stadshotell, a fun soccer match. And it allowed her to forget the war. Nils’s main aim in life seemed to be to make her happy. He wasn’t carrying any hidden trauma, he made her feel safe, and for the first time in several years, she was happy.
29
The buzzing of his phone woke Henrik. He had been lost in a wonderful dream about Nora, where they were doing considerably more than kissing. He blinked, looked around, and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. The message was something about a change to the board meeting. He would read it later. He put down the phone and sank back against the pillows, went back to thinking about Nora. That kiss yesterday had been unexpected. He had nothing against the idea that a flirtation for the cameras was on the way to becoming ... what? Something real?
Suddenly he realized what he had just seen on his phone. He picked it up again, opened the message. The board meeting had been brought forward from Monday to tomorrow.Tomorrow.Or rather today—since it was the middle of the night.
What the hell was going on? Why had the meeting time been changed? It was normally the chair’s PA who sent out the meeting information, but for some reason this message had come from Hasse himself.
He sent a message to his father:What’s this about?Then he changed his ticket to the morning train.
Hasse replied when Henrik was standing at the snow-covered train station a few hours later. A message about the change of date had gone out earlier in the week—hadn’t Henrik received it?
A knot formed in his stomach. Something wasn’t right. He took a deep breath; maybe he was just being paranoid? However, bearing inmind the way his father had treated him recently, it seemed entirely possible that Hasse had deliberately withheld the details about the new time in order to unsettle him.
The train was delayed because of the snow. When it finally set off, it made good progress at first, and Henrik began to feel a little more optimistic that he would make it. He wanted to speak to everyone ahead of time and make sure they were still in favor of his plans. He knew that his father could get everyone in the room to do exactly as he wanted. Henrik needed some time to convince his fellow board members to stand up for him before the time came to vote.
When the train reached Nyköping, it slowed down, then crawled through the snowy landscape. Henrik nervously checked his watch. He was going to be at least half an hour late for the meeting.
A year. He had spent a whole year developing this bakery plan. He’d run the numbers, prepared the business plan, and put considerable time into creating his product line. He had searched for the right location and commissioned architectural drawings, organized fabric and paint samples, and created mood boards. And now he was going to lose it all. He knew they wouldn’t wait for him if he was late. They would simply make their decision, make a note of his absence, then move on to the next item on the agenda.
