Read Online Echoes From the Dead by Johan Theorin - Free Book Online Page B

the eye; he was looking down at the desk, and she got no more answers.
    Perhaps he suspected more than he wanted to tell her.
    No answers. Julia sighed.
    “But there are other things we can do,” Gerlof went on quickly.
    Then he stopped.
    “Like what?” said Julia.
    “Well…”
    Gerlof blinked without replying, looking at her as if he’d already forgotten why he’d asked her to come.
    But Julia had no idea either what they should do next, and didn’t say anything. She suddenly realized she hadn’t looked at her father’s room properly; she had been completely fixated on looking at the sandal, holding it in her hand.
    She took a look around. As a nurse she quickly noticed the emergency call buttons along the walls, and as a daughter she discovered that Gerlof had brought his memories of the sea with him from the cottage in Stenvik. The three nameplates in lacquered wood from his cargo ships Wavebreaker, Wind, and More were hanging above framed blackandwhite photographs of the ships. On another wall hung framed ship’s registration certificates with stamps and seals. On the bookshelf beside the desk stood Gerlof’s leatherbound logbooks in a row, next to a couple of tiny model ships that had sailed straight into their own glass bottles.
    Everything was just as neatly arranged as in a maritime museum, clean and shining, and Julia realized she envied her father; he could stay in his room with his memories, he didn’t have to go out into the real world, where you had to make things happen and pretend to be young and sharp and try to prove your worth all the time.
    On the table next to Gerlof’s bed lay a black Bible and half a dozen pill bottles. Julia looked over toward the desk again.
    “You haven’t asked me how I am, Gerlof,” she said quietly.
    Gerlof nodded. “And you haven’t called me Dad,” he said.
    Silence.
    “So how are you?” he asked.
    “Fine,” said Julia tersely.
    “Are you still working at the hospital?”
    “Oh yes” she said, without mentioning the fact that she’d taken an extended leave of absence. Instead she said, “I drove through Stenvik before I came here. I had a look at the cottage.”
    “Good. How are things looking down there?”
    “Just the same. It was all closed up.”
    “No broken windows?”
    “No,” said Julia. “But there was a man there. Or rather, he turned up while I was there.”
    “I expect it was John,” said Gerlof. “Or Ernst.”
    “His name was Ernst Adolfsson. I presume you know each
    other?”
    Gerlof nodded. “He’s a sculptor. An old stonemason. He’s from Smaland originally, but…”
    “But he’s all right in spite of that, you mean?” said Julia quickly.
    “He’s lived here for a long time,” said Gerlof.
    “Yes, I vaguely remember him from when I was little… He said something odd before he left, something about a story from the war. Was he talking about the Second World War?”
    “He keeps an eye on the cottage,” said Gerlof. “Ernst lives over by the quarry, and he picks up the leftover reject stone sometimes.
    Fifty men used to work there in the old days, but now there’s just Ernst… He’s been helping me a bit with working all this out.”
    “All this? You mean what happened to Jens?”
    “Yes. We’ve talked about it, speculated a bit,” Gerlof said, then asked, “How long are you staying?”
    “I…” Julia wasn’t prepared for the question. “I don’t
    know.”
    “Stay for a couple of weeks. That would be good.”
    “That’s too long,” said Julia quickly. “I have to get home.”
    “Do you?” said Gerlof, as if it came as a surprise to him.

his
    He glanced at the sandal on the desktop, and Julia followed gaze.
    “I’ll stay for.a while,” she said. “I’ll help you.”
    “With what?”
    “With … whatever we need to do. To move forward.”
    “Good,” said Gerlof.
    “So what are we going to do, then?” she asked.
    “We’re going to talk to people … listen to their stories. Like in