Chapter 81
Maggie strode along the cliff-top path, pleased to notice that she wasn’t out of breath. She felt fitter than she had in years.
Phoebe was staying with Aidan for the weekend. A monthly two-night visit was the routine they’d settled upon, and although Maggie still dreaded their good-byes, she was also enjoying having some time for herself.
She’d finally cleared out the shed, painting it a bright pop of cobalt blue, throwing down a burlap mat, adding potted plants, and tacking favorite prints and postcards to the walls.
She’d bought an old wooden desk where her flower presses and canvases were set up.
Her Etsy shop was thriving, and when she wasn’t fulfilling orders, she managed to carve out a little space simply to paint.
Last month, on one of Aidan’s weekends, she’d finally opened the beautiful set of acrylics Joni had gifted her.
As she’d lifted her brush to the fresh white space of her canvas, she could hear Joni’s voice: Stay you. Always create.
Ahead on the trail, two young men were walking in the opposite direction, climbing ropes lashed to their packs. They waved in greeting as they passed, and the sight of them drew Maggie’s thoughts to Blafjell.
“I heard from Erik earlier this week,” she told the others.
They emailed one another occasionally. It was an unexpected, gentle friendship that had surprised them both.
It had begun when Maggie was in touch to find out who was caring for Vilhelm’s dog.
I’m looking after Runa for now, Erik had emailed back.
He’s the lodge dog, happy to be fed twice what he ought to be by my mother.
Then, gradually, they’d begun communicating about other things, too.
Erik often wanted to write about Karin—and Maggie was happy to respond, feeling a connection to her that was hard to articulate to anyone else.
“How is he?” Helena asked.
“He said the snows have arrived early this year. The lodge has been quiet—but they’re getting by.” He was running the place in Leif’s absence, and also looking after his mother. “He said Leif gets out of prison soon.”
Leif had been given a reduced sentence for his role in things.
Devastated by what he’d done, and how Vilhelm’s hold had been rotting their community, Leif had turned himself in and provided the police with evidence that had led to one of the largest seizures of cocaine in Norway’s history, and the dismantling of a drug ring that had a decade-long reign.
“Do you think Leif will return to the lodge?” Liz asked.
Maggie had wondered that, too. “It’s home. I don’t think he can lose it.”
Helena asked, “Did Erik mention Austin?”
“Not this time.” Austin had been sent to a prison in Oslo. Apparently, he had been shown some leniency by the judge because of the years of systematic coercive control he’d suffered from Vilhelm.
So much darkness hidden within all that wild beauty, Maggie thought as they walked quietly, each lost to her own thoughts.
After a time, Liz turned toward the water and said, “Look!” She was pointing toward the faint scratch of a path cutting down toward the sea.
Maggie turned, remembering that first glimpse of the crystal-clear bay in Norway, glistening between the mountains. Joni had bounded down the switchbacks, whooping and hooting, peeling off her clothes, and rushing straight for the icy kiss of the sea. She had always lived hard and fast and boldly.
Warmed by the memory, Maggie said to the others: “Let’s go down!”
She led the way and when her hiking boots met the sand, she helped Helena take the carrier off her shoulders, Freddie still fast asleep as they propped him carefully in the shade.
Maggie remembered hesitating on that Norwegian beach, worrying about her stretch marks and the extra weight at her middle, while the others called to her from the water.
But those worries felt distant, because what did any of it matter?
She had new scars now—some you could see, others you couldn’t—but she had survived. She was here. Alive.
She felt a fizz of adrenaline in her body as she began to unlace her boots. She peeled off her leggings, stripped off her underwear, and, without a beat of pause, ran toward the sea.