Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Even though I shouldn’t be crying, even though it’s been so long, Sigrid is right in that it’s a hard time of year. I feel like if I don’t get out of the kitchen, I’m going to burst into tears.
I get up and muster a smile for Lady Jane. “I have to use the toilet,” I tell her. “Do you mind watching them?”
“Of course.”
I hurry past her and into the hall, the tears now starting to fall, and I’m almost to my bedroom just as James is coming out of his room.
He smiles at me, but it quickly turns to a frown as I try to hide my face and disappear into my room. “Laila?” he calls out.
I shake my head and try to close the door on him, but he pushes into my room and grabs hold of my shoulders.
“What happened? Is it your grandmother?”
I try to pull back. “No. Yes. I don’t know, I just…”
“Hey,” he says softly. “It’s okay.”
He shuts the door gently behind him, and I put my back to him, burying my face in my hands. I never let myself cry, and I can’t tell if I’m crying more because I’m hit with this unexpected wave of grief, or because I’m getting angry and frustrated for crying at all, and especially in front of James.
I try to get myself together, take a deep breath, and straighten my spine.
“Breathe,” he says from behind me, his voice soothing. “That’s all you need to do. Just breathe.”
Then he wraps his arms around me, and I turn around, collapsing against him. Burying my face in the crook of his neck, as if I’m trying to hide from the world.
“It’s okay,” he says again. “Let it out.”
I hug him back, wanting to feel something, anything, other than this ache in my chest and the emptiness in my heart. Why is this happening now? Why can’t I seem to keep it together, even after all this time?
He strokes my hair, and I cling to him like he’s a life raft.
Talking to Bjorn—a child who is so pure despite his devilish tendencies—made me feel like I was his age again. When all I wanted was for my parents to love me, and then they died before they even got a chance.
I’m not sure how long I hang on to James, but when I finally get myself together, I step back and wipe at my eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod. I’m not sure I’m okay, but I know I’m going to try to be.
“So what happened?” he asks.
“I was so stupid,” I say, feeling the tears start again. “I was talking about Christmas and…” It’s hard to explain it to him, but I try. “I was telling them about how my parents died. Then I told them about what we used to do to remember them, how we used to buy them presents even after they were dead.”
“Oh.” He sounds like he’s not really sure what to say, which is how I feel too. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine.”
I pull away and walk over to the window, looking at the snow. The sun set a few moments ago, and twilight has descended already. The trees are barely visible against the darkening blue, and for a scary moment I’m afraid there’s a light inside me that’s being snuffed out as well.
“You used to buy Christmas presents for your parents?” he asks, and I hear him sit on the edge of my bed.
I roughly wipe at my cheeks. “I still do.”
“And your grandmother?”
My throat feels knotted up again. “No. But she did until…”
“Are you seeing her soon?” he asks.
I sigh. “I was supposed to go today, but…”
Suddenly I hear him get up, and then he’s right behind me, touching my elbow. “You didn’t go?”
I turn and frown at him, not caring that I’m an ugly mess. “I had to work. It’s a busy day in the house if you haven’t noticed. Lots of things to do.”
“You need to see your grandmother for Christmas.”
“She probably doesn’t even know it’s Christmas.” But as I say the words, I feel like I’m being knifed in the heart. I know he’s right. I’ve been beating myself up all day for not going. I even thought about tomorrow, but it’s hard when I’m going to be busy all day.
“Why don’t we go tonight?” he says.
I stare up at him, sniffing hard. “What? To see my grandmother?”
He looks at his watch. “It’s three. It’s early. Ottar can take us. I’ll go with you.”
I stare at him for a moment, trying to think. “I’ve got to work…”
“No. You don’t.”
Then he turns and opens the door, leaving the room.
I stand there, dumbfounded for a moment, then walk toward the hall and stop. I can hear him in the kitchen asking Lady Jane if she’ll watch Bjorn and Tor until we get back.