Possessed hearts - стр. 49

– But really, I don't feel like he's disadvantaging me. I just trust his judgement because he's lived so many years and I'm just starting to learn about life. But it won't last forever. I'll grow up and be independent in my judgement. In the meantime, I have one small victory – my motorbike.

– Exactly. You've got a lot more ahead of you, my darling. Just live and learn. What kind of motorbike?

– Bajaj Pulsar 2000.

– You'll show me, because I prefer cars.

– Of course I do. Where's your luggage?

– In Reykjavik,' I answered without going into details.

– I have a lot of clothes. Take whatever you want," Misha said with a smile.

– Oh, I know that. Thank you, sweetheart. It's like old times.

We used to swap clothes whenever we had the chance to be around each other. But, out of my entire wardrobe, Misha always took only modest clothes. If I had any. I knew that after another visit to Prague, she often brought Mariszka's clothes with her, as if she was too lazy to buy them for herself. Or Misha so trusted the "impeccable", as everyone said, taste of our saint. Boring, if you ask me.

– And what are you doing at the lake? – I asked.

– I got tired of living in Stockholm, so we came back here, – Misha informed me.

– For how long?

– A couple of months. I'm so glad you're here! But why and for how long?

– I'm tired, too. Mentally. Decided to spend time with my beloved sister. – I smiled quite a bit. And it was almost true. – How long? Three weeks.

– That short? – Misha grumbled unhappily.

– Yes, I'm sorry. But I have an exhibition, an opening.

– Oh yes! Mum told me! – cheerfully chirped her little sister.

– I'm sure she did," I grinned. – Are you coming to the opening?

– When?

– The tenth of October.

– Still asking? Of course! And Fredrik will come with me, even if he refuses!

– Oh, gods, poor Fredrik! – I laughed.

Misha suddenly turned off the road onto a narrow, gravel path that led somewhere in the forest.

– We'll be home soon! – Misha said cheerfully.

– Remind me again: Did Fredrik build your house himself? – I asked.

– Yes, and in just a fortnight. We also have a jetty and a boat. And a swing.

– How nice. And how wonderful to see you happy, my darling.

– Oh, thank you. And I hope you're happy too.

"You'll never know the truth, my dear! Otherwise, you'll suffer for me. You don't have to suffer. No one has to. It is only my burden," I thought bitterly.

– Yes, of course," I smiled a fake smile.

A couple of minutes later, the lake and the two-storey wooden house on its shore, painted matte red, peeked out from behind the trees. But I didn't ask why red and why they needed swings.

– Well, I must justly say that Fredrik has done his best! – I exclaimed sincerely, stunned by the skill of my former lover.

– Yes, he did his best! But I helped too. I mean, I painted the whole house! What do you think of the colour? It's beautiful, isn't it? – Misha said with pride in her voice at my exclamation.

– Oh, yeah. Just gorgeous! – I answered her.

Misha parked the car near the house. Fortunately, the sun was hidden behind thick white clouds, and I could not hide from its rays.

I got out of the car and took the moment to look at the house more closely.

The "little house" (in the young Haraldson family's terms) was actually a massive tall house made of large, rough-hewn planks, fitted together so tightly that the lines of distinction were barely visible. The large wide terrace on the first floor, with a low railing made of thin trunks of some kind of wood, looked very cosy. There were wooden chaise lounges with soft fake fur covers on them. Next to the terrace was a large veranda with sliding glass doors. On the ground floor there were four wide windows and between them a tall solid wooden door, to which a wide wooden staircase with six steps ascended. The staircase and door were securely sheltered by a wide triangular roof, from which a large lantern descended on a thin chain.