With jerky movements, she wrenched her body in all directions, trying to see if anyone was chasing her. But the darkness distorted everything in the same way it had amplified her panic over hearing the sound of the man’s car.

Suddenly, she saw a beam of light off to her right. It flashed and then disappeared just as quickly. It reappeared after a moment. She peered into the darkness, trying to figure out where the light was coming from. It reappeared again, pulsing between the tree trunks and disappearing, reappearing, pulsing and disappearing. The light was as rhythmic as a heartbeat slowly pulsing its last beats.

Suddenly, she heard a twig snap. The footsteps in the snow grew closer.

She didn’t dare stand still any longer, turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could.

She was running for her life.

* * *

“Can I give you a little more?” Margaretha Berzelius held up the pitcher of glogg. Small saucers and bowls stood on the table, filled with raisins, almonds, gingersnaps and blue cheese. In the middle, on a silver tray, stood a saffron cake with white icing and gold pearl sugar. Jana looked at the careful table setting, held out her mug and let her mother fill it. She held it to her lips, taking a sip.

“Is it cold?”

“No.”

Her mother sat across from her, refilling her own mug, too.

“You’re lying.” She smiled.

“Only so you don’t have to warm it up again.”

Margaretha slowly cut into the saffron cake, putting a piece on Jana’s plate and then a piece on her own. Instead of eating, though, she just looked at Jana.

“Are you sure you’re feeling well? You look worn-out.”

“No, I feel fine.”

Jana met her gaze and felt tense. She wasn’t really comfortable talking about her private life. It was as if the words were blocked inside her, caught in her thoughts. It was easier to hide behind the neutral jargon of a career woman. Keep things short, concise and impersonal. Only talk about work.

“You haven’t been here in a long time,” her mother said.

“I know.”

“Why don’t you call more often?”

“I haven’t had time. Besides, it’s awkward now with Father.”

“I wish you would.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”

“You wouldn’t have listened anyway,” her mother said.

Jana didn’t respond. She fixed her eyes on a single point out in the garden. She thought she saw something move, but it was hard to make out any contours in the dense afternoon darkness.

“Where’s Father?” she asked, still looking out the window.

“He had to go to a meeting.”

Jana nodded, thinking it was unnecessary for her mother to say he “had” to go. There was nothing her father “had” to do. He made all of his own decisions. He had chosen to have a meeting. Chosen not to see her.