Chapter Nineteen #2
The conversation had shaken her to the core and given her a lot to think about.
But with Karl in the hospital, it was no time to start talking about what might happen in the future.
So she’d asked Astrid to leave it for now.
Before his fall, Aurora would never have even considered moving Karl to a care home; he wouldn’t have stood for it, and she wouldn’t have had the capacity to fight back.
But with Astrid in her corner… she began to have a little hope.
Her younger sister had gone home to Malmo, and Aurora thought she might not see her again anytime soon.
But Astrid had returned every month or so since then to see how things were going.
Checking in on Aurora as much as she did on her father.
She was the barometer for Aurora’s emotions, because Aurora was so caught up in caring for Karl, she was too close to see how he was affecting her.
And Astrid could see Aurora was starting to suffer, was being dragged down by the constant stress and the duties that were pulling her in every direction.
Astrid finally went to speak to M?rten, recruiting him to her cause.
M?rten had already commented once or twice to Aurora that he was worried about her—she was often late to shift because she had to take her father to rehab sessions, and she was always late with her paperwork now, which’d been unheard of before.
Her perfect standards were slipping at work, and while it killed her inside that she might lose the job she loved, she couldn’t bring herself to ask anyone for help.
Karl had alienated Millie to the point that the poor old lady felt incredibly sorry for Aurora, but even she had stopped coming around in the evenings to help out.
Astrid, M?rten, and Millie had all descended on her house one Saturday morning and said they were holding an intervention, whether she liked it or not.
Karl had been home too, and they told her they purposely wanted him included in the conversation, just so he knew how much he was hurting her.
He seemed not to care, however; he’d ranted and shouted, swearing that he’d rather be dead than live in some stinking, shitty care home.
It was Karl’s frenzied reaction—and his complete lack of concern for Aurora’s life that was in a downward spiral—more than Astrid and M?rten’s determined, compassionate faces that’d forced her to see what was really going on.
She’d never forget the stony look on her father’s face when she’d finally agreed they should start looking for somewhere else for Karl to live.
He’d refused to participate in the conversation after that, even calling Astrid a traitor, just as bad as her sister.
But both sisters stood shoulder to shoulder facing their father and told him this was the way things were going to be from now on.
Then, yesterday, an ambulance had come to move Karl to his new assisted care home.
Her father had refused to speak and remained as stony and implacable as a statue as the paramedics helped him into the back of the van.
Aurora had almost changed her mind then, but Astrid had taken hold of her hand and together they’d watched as Karl was driven away.
Nordic countries had some of the highest care regimes for people with disabilities in the world, and most of what was being provided would either be free or very low cost. Karl had been assessed, and was eligible for full-time nursing care in a retirement home come nursing facility on the outskirts of Lule?.
Aurora didn’t envy the nurses who’d be looking after her father.
One more reason for her to feel guilty, that other people would be bearing her burden now.
Guilt would always be her constant companion when it came to Karl, but she was beginning to realize that a toxic relationship with anyone, even if they were your only surviving parent, wasn’t good for her mental health.
It was time to start putting herself first. Perhaps the one good thing that’d come out of this was that she and her sister were now closer.
Astrid had returned to Malmo on yesterday evening’s train, and Aurora had actually been sad to see her go.
They promised each other they’d visit regularly, and Astrid would come up to see her father more often too.
Aurora unlocked the shed and hung the snowshoes up on a hook on the back wall.
There, now she had put the shoes back where they belonged and would no longer think of Jiro every time she walked past the mudroom.
Perhaps it was time to take Erik up on his offer.
The IT consultant hadn’t stopped asking her out—never seeming to register that she was holding a candle for a certain American tourist—telling her he realized she was dealing with a lot with her father but when she was ready, he’d love to take her to dinner one time.
So now her father was receiving proper care, should she give in to his gentle pressure and go out with him?
She didn’t want to stay single and alone for the rest of her life, did she?
She sighed and gave the shed a discerning glance.
It needed a good cleanup. It was stacked with boxes, mainly full of Karl’s stuff that wouldn’t fit in her house when he’d moved in.
Perhaps she could start this task today.
After she’d been for a walk to the lake, she’d come back and begin clearing it all out.
Yes, that would be good—another step in creating a new life for herself.
As she relocked the shed, she thought she heard her voice calling out her name.
It sounded strangely familiar, but… “I’m around the back,” she shouted, then suddenly remembered she was still in her brief summer pajamas.
Shit. It was too late, however, as a figure appeared walking down the small pathway between the side of the house and the fence.
Aurora stopped in the middle of her garden and stared. Was that…? It couldn’t be.
“Jiro?” It was as much a question as it was a statement.
She could barely believe her eyes. But it was definitely him, even though he was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt this time, rather than the bulky jackets and long pants she remembered him in.
The small part of her brain that was still functioning saw he had a pair of mighty fine legs beneath the hem of his shorts.
Long, tanned, athletic. And strong biceps bulged from beneath his short sleeves.
That unruly, curly hair still hung over his forehead. Tantalizingly cute.
“What…?” It was as if she’d lost the ability to speak.
Then he smiled, and something in her heart cracked wide open.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” he said, stalking closer to her. “M?rten told me you had the day off. So I thought…”
What? He thought he would do what? Just come around here unannounced and set her heart beating so fast she thought she might be having a heart attack?
And he’d talked to M?rten? What was that all about?
Part of her wanted her to act cool. Stay distant.
Be a little wary even. But another part—the biggest part—wanted to jump for joy.
Suddenly, she didn’t care why he was here.
She just cared that he was. She’d been dreaming of him, and never let the idea of him go completely, and now he was, in the flesh. So what was she going to do about it?
She took a few precise steps toward him.
“No, you’re not intruding,” she announced.
Then, in a most un-Aurora-like-manner, she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around him, crushing him to her as if wanting to make sure he was real.
He let out a kind of oof sound as she collided with him, staggering a little but managing to stay on his feet as he took her full weight.
“Good to hear,” he whispered in her ear.
“I was afraid you might turn me away.” He lowered her slowly so that her feet hit the ground, and she looked up into his face, suddenly shy, merely shaking her head.
Of course, she wouldn’t turn him away. She hadn’t seen this man for six months, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do with him now.
He solved that dilemma for her by dipping his head and dropping his lips onto hers.
They were soft. Gentle. Undeniable. And it felt like her chest had suddenly exploded.
She’d been so worried he’d forgotten about her.
But his lips told the opposite story. He remembered her.
He wanted her. He worshipped her. Her mouth became greedy for his, and she stood on tiptoe, pulling his head down closer.
She needed him closer. Was this even real?
Or was he a figment of her imagination? Something she’d conjured from desperation.
Then he picked her up in his arms, and she knew he was really here.
The physical strength of him as he wrapped his arms around her echoed through her body, and she remembered his touch, how good it felt.
It was still there. The chemistry was like touching dry tinder to a match and watching it flare. Immediate and intense.
She didn’t want to speak. Words sometimes didn’t tell the full story. She wanted action. Wanted to let her body tell him how much she’d missed him. Everything else could come later. Explanations, justifications, reasons. She didn’t want to hear any of them right now.
“Upstairs,” she demanded through her kisses.
Jiro obliged as quickly as he could, his mouth never leaving hers as he negotiated the stairs up into the kitchen.
But the stairs to her bedroom were a much greater obstacle, and for the sake of speed, she motioned him to put her down, then dragged him by the hand up to her bedroom.