Close to the Heel (12 page)

She scowled at me. Okay, at that exact second she didn't look sad. She looked good and angry.

“We don't have to be enemies, Brynja.”

“We don't have to be friends either. You're going with my dad in a few days to do whatever it is you came here to do. And then you're leaving.”

“So?”

“So you're just another tourist. They come and they go. You're not part of my life.”

“I still care if you're upset.” At least, I sort of did.

“It's nothing.” But her voice was softer now and she was staring into the water below.

I kept my mouth shut, looked around and wondered what had brought Brynja's mother up here of all places. Was it like Jonina had said? Had she come up here intending to end her life? Had she jumped? Or was there some other reason she had come here? Did this place have anything to do with Freyja's missing husband? Had she come up here to meet him? But why
here
? I glanced at Brynja. I knew what she was doing here, and, even though she might not have believed it, I understood why she wanted to be alone. I stood up.

“I guess I'll see you later,” I said.

She looked at me but didn't say anything.

I turned to go back down the way I had come.

“Do you think about your mother?” she asked just as I was about to step over the chain marker.

I looked back at her.

“You said she died,” she said. “Do you think about her much?”

Did I think about her
much
? Was she kidding?

“I think about her all the time.” All I had to do was close my eyes, and there she was, her long brown hair, her sparking eyes, her smile, always a smile. And then, sometimes, more times than I could stand at first but lately less and less, I see that gigantic rock smashing one whole side of the car. Her side. That rock where my mother should have been. Where she was.

“Rennie?”

I had to force myself to focus on her.

“How did she die?”

“Car accident.” I don't know why I always said it that way, like another car had crashed into hers or she had crashed into someone else's car. But it was better than saying rock accident. If you said car accident, most people got a picture in their minds and just left it at that. Everyone could understand the idea. But rock accident? You had to explain that. What rock? Where had it come from? Where did it land? When you explained all that, you had to live it all over again. And when you did that—when I did that—I had to face the fact that it was all my fault. I'd driven her crazy that whole trip. No matter what she'd done, I'd wanted more. If only…

“It was a car accident.”

“How did you find out?”

“Huh?” What was she talking about? How did I find out about what?

“I was at school,” she said. “Geography class. I like geography. I'm good at it. I like it. I was thinking perhaps I would be a geologist. Iceland is a paradise for geologists, did you know that?” She didn't wait for an answer. “It's over a rift zone where two tectonic plates meet. It's also over a hot spot, which accounts for all the volcanoes. It's one of the newest islands on earth, geologically speaking—Iceland is twenty to twenty-five million years old.” That sounded pretty old to me. “I was in class. The teacher was handing back test papers, and I looked up and I saw my father and the school director outside the classroom door. I remember wondering what my father was doing there. Then the director gestured to my teacher and she went outside and he said something to her. When she came back in, she called my name and said I was wanted out in the hall. I remember she closed the door after I left the room. I couldn't think why she did that. She always left the door open. Then my father told me. I didn't believe him, of course. I screamed at him. I called him a liar, over and over. I guess that's why my teacher closed the door. I guess she knew I'd be upset.”

“Anyone would be if they got the news that their mother had jumped or been pushed or whatever over a waterfall.”

Her eyes hardened. She stood up.

“Who said she jumped over the waterfall?”

“Or was pushed,” I said. Jeez, she looked like she was going to push
me
over. “Or whatever.”

“It was Jonina, wasn't it?” She shoved me in the chest, which I wasn't expecting. It threw me off balance. “You talked to Jonina about my mother, and she told you that my mother jumped, didn't she? Didn't she?” She shoved me again, harder this time, and even though I saw it coming, I stumbled and my foot slipped close to the edge of the rock.

“Hey, Brynja, take it easy,” I said.

“She didn't jump! I don't care what she told you. I don't care what anyone told you. My mother didn't jump. Someone pushed her.”

“Okay,” I said. I kept my voice calm and quiet. “Okay.” I was holding my hands up in front of me to block her if she decided to push me again. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.”

She was glowering at me, and for a moment I thought she was going to lash out again. Then her hands fell to her sides.

“Just go away and leave me alone,” she said.

Tears pooled in her eyes. Her shoulders slumped, and I couldn't remember when I had seen anyone look so—what was the word?—stricken. No, that's not quite right. I remember the look on the Major's face when he showed up at the hospital where I'd been taken. I wasn't hurt, not really. My fingernails were ripped and the ends of my fingers were bleeding from trying to lift a rock that refused to budge. My head ached from the impact with the air bag. And my muscles screamed at me, every single one of them, from the exertion I had subjected them to. But, really, none of it amounted to what you would call a real injury. Mostly I'd been taken there because I was in shock. And because they wanted to take some X-rays, just in case. Then the Major had showed up, just like Brynja's father had. He was the one who made it official, who told me what I had been refusing to believe. Brynja looked like that now.

“Look, Brynja—”

“Just go.” She turned away from me and raised a hand to wipe away tears that she didn't want me to see.

I hung there for a moment. If I left her, what would she do? I remembered all the times I had thought about my mom and how she had lost her life to a rock that had missed me by no more than a couple of inches. Maybe not even that much. Somehow that rock had skimmed over the top of my head and come crashing down right into the driver's seat. My mom's seat. I thought about it all the time. I thought about it on the anniversaries of when it happened. I thought about it on my mother's birthday and at Christmas. I thought about it at Thanksgiving and Mother's Day. It came to me in dreams and nightmares. It changed everything—and I do mean everything—for me and for the Major.

But I'm still here.

I'm dealing with it. At least, I think I am—most days.

I picked my way back down the rocky hill and along the path to my car. When I got to the parking area, I interrupted Johanna's call and told her that Brynja needed her. I looked back just once, as I was turning the key in the ignition. Brynja was standing exactly where I had left her. She hadn't moved at all.

TWELVE

I took my time driving back to the house. Einar's
SUV
wasn't in the driveway when I got there. I let myself in. Someone called from the back of the house and then appeared in the hall between the kitchen and the front door. Elin.

“He's been asking for you,” she said. “Please, come.”

I joined her at the back of the house, where she stood aside to let me go into the old man's bedroom. He was propped up against some pillows, his cheeks almost as white as the snowy linen.

“David,” he said.

I glanced at Elin.

“Go ahead,” she said. “He's been asking for you all afternoon. He says he has something to tell you.”

“But I'm not—”

“Don't be afraid,” she said, smiling encouragingly at me. “He won't bite.”

“David,” the old man said again.

I went in and sat down on the chair beside his bed.

“I'll leave you two alone,” Elin said. “If you need me for anything, just shout.” She disappeared from sight.

I leaned closer so that the old man could see me clearly.

“It's not David,” I said. “It's Rennie. I'm Rennie.”

He said something in Icelandic. At least, I think it was Icelandic.

“Are you okay, Mister…Sigurdur?” I asked.

“Too many secrets,” he said. “They're a burden to the soul.”

“Mister, uh, sir—”

“I want to tell you something before it's too late.”

Too late? What was he talking about?

“It's out there,” he said. He raised one thin hand off the quilt and pointed to the window. “I saw it. I knew what it was, and I rejoiced. I am ashamed but I rejoiced, even though I knew it was wrong. Help me.”

At first I didn't understand. Then I saw he was trying to get out of bed.

“Help me.”

“I don't think that's a good idea, sir.”

His face was red from his struggle to lift himself up off his pillows.

“Sir, I—”

“Help me. I want to show you.” He had got himself almost to a sitting position and was easing his feet toward the edge of the bed.

“Elin!” I shouted.

The old man's thin legs poked out from under the covers and slipped to the floor. He tried to push himself up off the bed.

“Elin!” I shouted again.

He struggled to his feet.

“I want to show you.” He was tottering to the window, pointing again, and I was sure he was going to fall over. I threw my arms around him to hold him up.

A deep voice barked something in Icelandic.

Einar.

“What the devil do you think you're doing?” he shouted. At me.

“He got out of bed,” I said. “I tried to stop him.”

Einar flew across the room, shoved me aside and took hold of the old man. Elin rushed into the room.

“Einar!” She ran to the bedside. “What are you doing?”

“He got up,” I said again, but no one listened to me. Einar and Elin got the old man back into bed and covered him up. He was breathing hard. Elin grabbed his wrist to take his pulse. The whole time she was doing that, Einar was yelling at her. Based on my experience with the Major, I'd say he was reaming her out for leaving him alone with me. They argued with each other in Icelandic until, finally, Einar stormed out of the room. I found him pacing angrily up and down in the living room.

“It wasn't her fault,” I said.

“She's paid to look after him.”

“She
was
looking after him. She was with him when I got back. He wanted to talk to me.”

“What on earth about?”

“I don't know. He thought I was my grandfather. He kept calling me David.”

Einar stared at me as if I were out of my mind.

“He has a photo,” I said. “From just after my grandfather crash-landed here during the war. He thinks I look like him.”

“What did he want to talk to you about?”

“I don't know. He decided to get out of bed and that's when I called for Elin. Then you showed up.”

He was calming down. I guess seeing the old man out of bed had given him a scare, but he nodded now and apologized for yelling at me. I told him I understood.

“I'm going to call his doctor,” he said. “And then I should get dinner started.”

When I offered to help, he shook his head.

“You're still a guest here, and my guests don't have to make their own meals. Besides, I like to cook. It calms me.”

I didn't know what else to do, so I browsed through the bookshelves in the living room, found a novel in English that looked like it might be okay, and took it outside to sit and read. From where I was, at the side of the house, I could see the old man's window. I sure hoped he was okay. I wondered what he'd been talking about. What secrets did he mean? What had he known was wrong, and what did he mean he'd been happy about it? What had he been planning to show me?

I looked at the window and with my eye traced a path from it, trying to figure out what he had been pointing at. It could have been almost anything. From his window, the land rolled until it hit the sea. First there was the yard, then fields, then a stream, then more fields and, far, far in the distance just where the land curved, another farm. I opened the book and started to read. The story was okay, but not exactly gripping. I looked up again. This time I got up and walked back to the old man's window. Elin must have drawn the shades because they were down now. I turned so that my back was to them and took another look. He'd wanted to show me something. It had been important enough to him that he'd got himself out of bed, which, from the way everyone had reacted, not only was not good for him but was also something he hadn't done in a long time. And all because there was something he wanted to show me—or my grandfather.

Yard. Fence. Fields. Stream. Fields. Distant farm.

Distant farm? Who did it belong to? Had something happened over there? Had he seen something? What?

Yard. Fence. Fields. Stream…

Wait a minute, what was that hump of land out in the yard? It looked like a hill. I started to walk toward it, the whole time telling myself I was being ridiculous. The old man was clearly delusional; he'd already mistaken me for my grandfather.

I almost turned back, when I saw that the little hill wasn't a hill after all. I circled around it. It was a shed or a little house that had been built into the rock and was covered with grass, as if the land had grown over it. It had a sturdy double door made of thick planks. As I was walking toward it, I heard a car door slam. Brynja was back.

She climbed out of Johanna's car, waved goodbye and then stood for a moment on the driveway staring at me. When Einar appeared at the door, Brynja pointed to me. Einar came down the front steps and started toward me. Brynja trotted along behind him, a quizzical look on her face. I headed back to meet them.