She’d already reported the basics of how the night had gone to Mårten—including Dalström’s strange behavior, and excluding the fact she hadn’t had his permission to talk to Dávvet—but now she sent another quick text to him, letting him know what she was doing.She didn’t believe Jiro formed any sort of threat, but it never hurt to let someone else know what was going on.Just in case.Mårten surprised her by replying almost immediately.
Don’t think that’s a good idea.
She thought about it for a few seconds before she replied.
He’s got nowhere else to go.All the hotels are full tonight.
There was almost a minute where the three dots kept scrolling before Mårten finally replied.
Okay.I trust you to be a good judge of character.I’ll keep my phone on just in case you need me.
A balloon expanded in her chest.It felt good to know someone had faith in her.Mårten was giving her the benefit of the doubt, and that was why he was such a good mentor.He allowed her to make her own mistakes and learn from them.But he was also right there as backup if she needed it.He was such a good man.Summer was one lucky woman to have him.
But that balloon quickly deflated as she remembered that Jiro was about to meet her father.She wondered what kind of mood he would be in when they got home.He would probably say something rude or inappropriate when he saw she’d brought someone home with her.Especially because it was a man.Perhaps they should try one more time to find him a hotel room.Nope.She screwed up her courage.Her father was living inhercottage.She was taking care ofhim.She was doinghima favor.Not the other way around.She had every right to bring people home if she wanted to.He no longer had the authority to order her around like he had when she was a child.
Yeah, right.She just needed to keep telling herself that.
“I’m ready to go.”Jiro reappeared in her office doorway, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder.At least he seemed to travel light.
“Right.”She stood wearily and led him toward the underground parking lot to retrieve her car.
It was only an eleven-minute drive to her house on the outskirts of town—Luleå was not very big, as she’d already iterated to Jiro.They drove in silence.Jiro had tried to start a conversation, but she was in no mood, fretting more than she would like to admit about how her father was going to take all this, and shoring up her reserve to deal with him.
It was only thanks to her mother that she’d been able to afford to buy a house in this northern town.Her mother had come from a well-to-do family and had set up a smallish trust fund for her and Astrid when they’d been very young to make sure they were taken care of if something ever happened to her.Which it had.Karin Karlsson had fallen through a patch of thin ice and drowned in the freezing water of a lake near their house eight years ago, almost to the day.If she hadn’t set up the trust fund, neither of the girls would’ve seen a dime, as her father had squandered away everything else she’d left behind after she died.Which was the reason he was living with her now.Aurora could never figure out why her mother had married Karl; they were such complete opposites.
Her headlights lit up her house as she swung onto the driveway.The lights from the Christmas tree she’d set up in the front window twinkled playfully, as if welcoming her home, and for a second her heart lifted.Painted pale yellow, with white trim and a steeply sloped corrugated iron roof, the cottage was small and not in the best part of town, but at least it was hers.She pulled her car into the single garage, which was attached to the next-door neighbor’s carport.You couldn’t see it at the moment because it was dark, but the cottage backed onto a small body of water, Björsbyfjärden, where she could swim and lie on the little beaches that edged the inlet in summer.Well, she had done before her father had moved in, but now rarely found the time.In winter, the inlet was iced over, and could be dangerous to the unwary, as the ice often didn’t get thick enough to walk on.
All the lights were blazing, which meant her father was still awake, and she clenched her teeth as she led Jiro up the ramp she’d installed last year to help her father gain wheelchair access to the front door.As she pulled out her keys, she stopped and swiveled to face him.He should probably be made aware of what he was in for.
“My father, Karl, lives with me, and has done so for the past year.He has early-onset Parkinson’s, and I am his carer.”She was straight to the point, but silently wondered if she was actually doing Jiro a disfavor by offering him a room.She gave a small shrug.At least Jiro could avoid Karl by staying in his room if he wanted; a luxury Aurora wasn’t afforded.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know.Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay with you?I don’t want to impose.”He took a step back and had to grab the handrail to stop himself tumbling down the ramp.So much for it being safer than stairs.
“You’re not imposing,” she reassured him.“In fact, it’ll probably do him good to have some company,” she said with an ironic tilt of her head.More likely, it might make him hold his tongue for once.“I just need to warn you, the disease has made him… cantankerous.Don’t mind what he says; he doesn’t really mean it,” she lied.She knew he meant every single word.And it wasn’t the disease that’d made him cantankerous.He’d always had a mean streak.The disease was just an excuse to take his spitefulness up a few notches.
She took a deep breath and opened the door.“Fader, I’m home,” she called as she ushered Jiro into the mudroom.
She heard him reply in Swedish, “It’s about fucking time,” but ignored his lack of a polite greeting and showed Jiro where to stash his shoes and jacket.The one silver lining to Jiro staying here was that he wouldn’t understand most of what her father had to say because he’d never bothered to learn to speak much English.And she wouldn’t be translating for him.He could catch the drift of most of what was said if people around him were speaking English, but he struggled to hold a two-way conversation.
Karl was talking as she entered the living room.“You sent that bloody woman around to feed me again.I told you I don’t want her help.She’s a witch and I—” He broke off suddenly when he saw Jiro.“Who’s that?”he asked, instantly on guard.
“This is Jiro Nashimori.He’s…a friend of mine.I met him when I was living in Gothenburg.”At the last moment, she decided not to tell Karl the truth.She hoped Jiro followed her lead and wouldn’t give too much away.“He’s in town for one night and needs a place to stay, so I said he could have my spare bedroom.”
“A friend of yours?”Karl queried, his eyes nearly disappearing into the folds of his skin as he squinted to see the man coming in behind her.
Karl hadn’t taken a razor to his face for many weeks now, and his stubble was fast turning into a thick beard.It made him look even more haggard, more like a homeless man propped up in the single armchair—her chair that he had commandeered.The TV was blaring, and she went over to turn it down so that she could introduce Jiro properly.
Before Aurora could say anything more, however, Karl demanded, “I don’t want no stranger staying here.”As he spoke, his head twitched from side to side, and one of his feet began to jerk spasmodically, the heightened emotions bringing out the worst of his disease.
Aurora wanted to retort that this was her house, and he didn’t get to say who stayed and who didn’t, but instead, she said in English, “Jiro was on the cruise ship, Le Commandant Charcot.You know the one?”Her father was obsessed with cruise ships.He’d splashed out on a trip around the Caribbean right after her mother had died, and he still had some money left.The trip had been a highlight of his life, and he’d never stopped talking about it.Now he ordered every glossy brochure he could find, so that he could pore over the pictures, still dreaming of where he might go.In the summer months he would sometimes go down to the docks and watch the cruise ships come and go, lamenting the fact that this disease had now stripped of the opportunity to ever go on another journey.Aurora knew better; it wasn’t just the disease stopping him now, it was his lack of finances combined with his lack of social graces.If Aurora were a better daughter, then perhaps she might offer to take him on one final cruise.But she wasn’t a good daughter, and he wasn’t a good father.
The luxury ice-breaking cruise ship was one of Karl’s favorites.It had been the one ace up her sleeve when she’d invited Jiro to stay.
Karl levered himself up higher in the chair and switched to broken English.“You on boat?”He lifted a shaking hand and pointed at the couch next to him.“Come.Sit,” he said imperiously, making it clear he wanted to hear about the cruise ship.Aurora hid a grimace as she noted her father’s complete change of tune.Nowhe wanted to talk to the stranger.
“Let me show you around first; it won’t take long,” Aurora interceded.Her father could wait.“And you can dump your bag in your room.”
“Great Christmas tree,” Jiro commented, pointing to the bauble-covered tree in the window.
