Chapter 16
Kjell
When she ran into my arms at the hospital, she was deathly pale. Now, her cheeks glow with a bright rosy hue, the dark streaks washed away in the hospital restroom, and even though the area around her eyes remains swollen, she looks stunning.
"I haven't done this in ages," she says with a hint of excitement as she laces up her second ice skate. Then she stands from the wooden bench. She wobbles briefly but quickly regains her balance.
Nevertheless, I gallantly offer her my arm and accompany her to the shore of the frozen lake, nestled in the frosty landscape of Hellasg?rden. It's Saturday, and the lake bustles with activity. Children's laughter, the scraping sound of ice skate blades, and the sharp clattering of the puck from the teenagers in the separated ice hockey field fill the frigid air.
Sky hesitates before linking her arm with mine.
My skates touch the frozen surface first. "Let me know when you want me to let go," I say.
Her fingers tighten around my arm. "Give me a moment."
I'm more than willing to do so, but I immediately remind myself that this has nothing to do with Sky or her smile. This is solely about uncovering her true self. I place my second foot on the ice and turn to face her directly. Our fingers intertwine. Her gaze shifts between the ice and me. Every time she lowers her eyes, I can't wait for her to raise them again. To see that blue in her eyes that rivals the brightest winter sky.
She bravely steps onto the ice, and I pull her a little farther, keeping her in motion. "It's like it was yesterday," I comment because she's doing excellent. "You have great body control."
She nods, but her expression remains focused. "It comes from dancing." Tentatively, she first releases one hand, then the other, taking her first independent steps.
She dances? I'd love to ask her more about it, but I bite my tongue, remembering my promise to her. No questions. I'll stick to that. "I had a feeling you were a dancer," I reply instead.
She stretches her arms to both sides to find her balance. "Not ballet, though, but ballroom dancing. You know, waltz, rumba, tango, and such."
Fascinating. The image of her in a short sparkly dress, gracefully moving across the dance floor with fiery steps, appeals to me.
"Can you dance?" she asks eagerly.
I examine her and think I can discern a hint of guilt in her expression.
Why?
Because she told me something about herself?
Quickly, I reach for her hand, gliding along the lakeshore with her. Maybe that will ease her tension. She should be carefree and have a good time. "Only the waltz, and even that is quite clumsy," I reply.
"But you're fantastic at ice-skating," she observes. "Where does that come from?"
From the fact that my so-called father was a huge ice hockey fan. And as his son , I was naturally one too. "As a teenager, I was in an ice hockey club. We even competed in smaller tournaments," I answer with a hint of bitterness. "But that was a long time ago."
She gazes at me wistfully. "That's not a pleasant memory for you, is it?"
How does she know that?
Swallowing hard, I shake my head. "That's how it is with memories. Not all of them are beautiful," I admit openly.
Sky grunts in agreement and turns her gaze forward again. Hand in hand, we walk along the lakeshore, passing gnarled trees casting long shadows on the ice and breathing in the crisp winter air.
"Let's just focus on the beautiful ones," I suggest, pulling her a bit closer so we can avoid an approaching mother and child. After they've passed us, Sky doesn't make any effort to put more distance between us, and I don't either. Not because it simply feels nice to hold her in my arms but also solely to preserve the momentum. Because that's what it's all about here even though I keep risking forgetting that.
"The beautiful memories, then," she murmurs absentmindedly by my side.
"Like friendships, school parties, or first kisses," I say, as everything related to family doesn't fall into that category for me.
I look over at her and see a longing smile on her lips. "Or something like secretly stealing fabric scraps to make clothes for Barbie dolls."
"You didn't do that!" I can't help but laugh.
"Oh, I did. I had my own sewing machine. My Barbie was the best-dressed doll in all of Sweden," she proudly replies, but a second later, she presses her lips together.
I don't want that. I don't want her to be unhappy. I want her to laugh and enjoy the day.
"Surely your Barbie had a favorite dress," I quickly say.
"She was absolutely fashion-crazy. Of course, she loved everything I made for her," she responds, grinning.
I nudge her playfully as we walk. "Your friends' dolls were probably very jealous."
She lowers her eyes, her smile fading. "I didn't have many friends, actually just one," she admits. "But that was okay since I hardly had time to play anyway."
I maintain a questioning expression. Even though I'd love to know everything about her, I won't break my promise.
She shrugs and lets her gaze wander to the surrounding trees. "I spent every free minute at Touch av lyx ."
"So that's where your knowledge of fashion comes from. I noticed it in Milan," I say. From the very first moment, she seemed like she had been doing it all her life. She used technical terms that nobody else knew and knew who had what role in the team.
"I love that company," she whispers so softly that I can barely hear her. Still, I sense that those words are associated with pain for Sky.
Instinctively, I pull her closer to me and gently stroke her arm. I should probably ask her now what exactly the label means to her and give her the chance to tell me about her father.
Jakob would want me to do that, but I remain silent.
"At the headquarters, there's a rooftop terrace," she breathes with a wistful smile in the silence between us. "In the summer, I used to sit there for hours with my sketchbook, dreaming of having my own show. I'd go up there in the winter to watch the stars."
In my imagination, I see a sad little girl with no friends, standing all alone on the rooftop terrace. Bundled up in the most beautiful designer pieces, arms tightly wrapped around her body, she looks up.
"I wanted to be like them." Sky takes a deep breath. "I wanted to shine."
"But you do," I say. And I'm sure she did back then too.
Anyone who looks at her even once must recognize that. I noticed it the first time I saw her at Polarnatt .
She was so... unique. And if she hadn't behaved so ridiculously during the course of this and the following evenings, I might have even fallen in love with her.
Back then.
Not anymore. Because when we first met, I had no idea what people were capable of.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't notice Sky's reaction, or perhaps there isn't one, and she simply rests her head silently on my shoulder.
"Sometimes I imagined reaching up really high to pluck one of the stars from the sky. I hoped that if I held it in my hands, its radiance would rub off on me," she tells me.
No. Even if she could pluck a million stars from the sky, they would all pale compared to her own radiance.
Wait a minute. What am I thinking?
Have I gone crazy?
As if Sky senses my body stiffening, she lifts her head from my shoulder, slips out of my arms, and clears her throat awkwardly.
"Well, kids imagine many crazy things," she says hastily, wrapping the deep red scarf around her face, covering it up to just below her nose, and turning away.
Then she rushes away so quickly that I can hardly keep up with her. And I don't want to. Because I'm far too busy trying to understand what just happened to me.