Ambra nodded. Elsa was perceptive. Or maybe she was just easy to read. “I met a man up here.”
“I see.”
“He’s not for me, it’s not that.” She heard herself stumble over her words. She paused, took a breath, and continued, more slowly this time: “Anyway. I liked him and thought the feeling was mutual. But I misjudged the whole thing. It turned out he wasn’t at all interested.” She sounded quite indifferent, she thought. Like a grown woman telling a funny anecdote, not a foster kid with a gaping hole of abandonment in her soul.
“That’s always difficult. Feeling rejected.”
“Yeah.”
They sat in comfortable silence. It felt good to have her feelings confirmed.
“Men fall for a certain kind of woman, I think,” Ambra continued. Elsa was almost one hundred. She had to know things.
But Elsa slowly shook her head. “Men aren’t a uniform species. They fall for different types, just like we do.”
Her words sounded smart, in and of themselves, but they didn’t match up to Ambra’s experience. “What do you think men want, then? Really?”
Elsa gave her a slight smile. “I lived most of my life with a woman, so I may not be an expert on the subject. But I don’t think you can generalize like that. Men are different. Just like women.”
That was what everyone said, but it didn’t make sense.
“Go on,” Elsa said, putting down her cutlery.
“So, this is what I think,” Ambra began. “We’re always told to be ourselves. But what if you’re just not all that nice a person? Being yourself isn’t so smart then. My theory is that lots of women have realized this and are playing a role instead. Depicting an uncomplicated version of themselves. They’re happy, kind, accommodating. And they aren’t lying, exactly, but they’re also not being themselves. They show off girlish qualities, renounce themselves, and it works. It’s like someone gave them a manual.” Ambra fell silent. She had never seen any manual herself.
“And you feel you’ve been duped?” asked Elsa.
“When you grow up without any role models, without any kind of thought-out parenting, you end up with knowledge gaps.” There was so much she’d had to work out on her own. How to insert a tampon. How to buy bus tickets. How to hide your money so that no one from your foster family could steal it. How to plan your homework, be a friend, behave when you were in love. How to try not to cry when the entire class laughed at the fact you spoke weirdly. How to be aware of dangers and protect yourself.
“I read advice columns in newspapers and a load of relationship books, then I tried to act following the advice they gave.”
“Sounds like you really made an effort.”
Ambra smiled. “I guess you could say that. But I really wasn’t a success.”
Though she still wasn’t sure if it was just her sources that were wrong or whether she really did have some kind of social defect. Jill was also abandoned as a child, but she knew what to do. Everywhere Ambra turned, there were people who knew the social codes and how to use them. Who taught them that? Or was it an innate skill? Ambra was good at her job, at least the parts of it that had nothing to do with office politics. She could get people to talk in interviews; maybe she radiated something that made people take the risk of confiding in her. It was everything outside of work that she found so damned hard. Bosses. Men. Friends. Tom. She constantly felt as if she was doing things wrong. “I often feel like a UFO,” she summed up.
“You should be yourself. There are plenty of crazy men out there, so there must also be plenty of crazy women for them,” Elsa said.
Ambra smiled. “That doesn’t sound much like solidarity.”
“You shouldn’t feel solidarity with someone just because they’re the same gender. And stupidity has nothing to do with gender, it’s everywhere.”
“So why do you think some women find it so easy to meet someone?” she asked, which was what she really wanted to know, after all.
“I think, honestly, that a lot of them simply settle.” Elsa got up and fetched the bottle of sherry.
“I guess so,” said Ambra. She turned down more sherry but said yes to coffee.
They cleared the table and washed up together and then took their coffees out into the living room. Ambra sat down on the couch, Elsa on the rocking chair, slurping her coffee. Ambra smiled at the sound, found it soothing.
Elsa put down the saucer. “I want you to know that I think you’re an exceptionally good person. Your parents would be so proud of you,” she said.
And just like that, Ambra felt a lump in her throat. The thought that her mother and father would actually be proud of her wasn’t something she had ever realized before.
“Tell me about them.”
“My mom loved everything Italian. She studied art history and worked in a little gallery before I was born. She’s the one who wanted to name me Ambra, after a painting she saw in Rome. Dad was a watchmaker.” That was what she remembered, in any case.
“They sound like good people.”
“Yeah, they were. Normal.” Ambra often thought of them that way. As normal people.
“Life isn’t fair,” said Elsa.
Ambra thought of all the people she had met over the years. The widows of murdered men. Parents whose children had died. Victims of accidents. Refugees. “A lot of people have it much, much worse,” she said. She knew with all of her heart that that was true. On the whole, she had nothing to complain about, not really.
“Your parents died. That’s the worst thing that can happen to a child. Even if other people do experience terrible things.”
Ambra shook her head, knew she was lucky compared to many others.
“Ambra—that was the medieval word for amber. Did you know that amber also comes in different colors, not just gold? Blue is the most rare. And then there’s green.” Elsa leaned toward her, studied her closely, and then smiled. “Like your eyes. You have unusual eyes. Ingrid would have loved to paint them. She gave me a figurine made from green amber once. It should be over there somewhere.” She pointed to a book case, and Ambra got up.
In front of the books, there were a number of different ornaments and keepsakes. Small boxes, picture frames, tiny figurines. A vase of dried flowers. Stones, miniatures made from reindeer horn. She loved looking at things like that.
Everything she’d inherited from her parents’ home had gone missing; she didn’t know how, but a little disappeared with every move until finally there was just one box left. A small box of things. A few photos. A worn Winnie the Pooh. A couple of paperbacks with her mom’s name on the inside cover. Dad’s antique watchmaking tools; a set of tiny screwdrivers in a case. Her parents’ wedding bands and a charm bracelet that her dad gave to her mom when Ambra was born. Ambra had loved that bracelet.
The box disappeared after Kiruna. Esaias Sventin swore she took it with her when she ran off, but she hadn’t. And now it was gone. Her entire past had been taken away from her. She often looked in antique stores, surfed auction sites looking for anything that reminded her of the few things she remembered of her parents. A pattern on some porcelain woke vague memories. A vase that resembled a feeling she had.
“Is this the one?” she asked, holding up a green frog. Immediately, a memory washed over her, one she had long since forgotten. Mom’s little frog. She stroked the little green creature. Mom had called her frog because she was never still, she was always hopping around. The memory floated by, shapeless and fleeting, like always. But she was almost certain it had happened.
Elsa held out her hand and took the figurine. “Yes, that’s the one. Ingrid bought it on a trip to Kenya.”
“It’s beautiful,” Ambra said. Her throat felt tight, and her eyes stung a little. She sat down on the couch and pulled up her knees.
“I’ve decided to stay in Kiruna a few more days.”
“Is it because of the man you mentioned?”
“What? No, not at all.” She felt herself blush, but this
wasn’t about Tom. “I want to get in touch with the case worker who was responsible for me when I was here.” She wanted to find out whether the Sventins still fostered children. Imagine if those two girls were foster kids and were forced to endure the same kind of things she had. It was unbearable even to imagine.
“What are you hoping to find?”
“Don’t know.” It was Christmas, so maybe she wouldn’t find a thing. But she never planned to come back up here again, so if she was going to do anything, it had to be now.
“Let me know if I can help.”
“Thanks.”
They drank their coffee and the conversation moved on. After an hour or so of chatting, Elsa seemed tired. It was time to leave.
“Thanks for having me over,” Ambra said after she carried the cups into the kitchen and washed them up.
“Wait a second.” Elsa disappeared. Ambra heard a faint rustling, and then Elsa returned with a small parcel wrapped up in thin tissue paper. “I want you to take this. Open it.”
Ambra unwrapped the paper. It was the little green frog. She gave Elsa an uncertain look.
“But . . .”
“No, I want you to have it. It’s a gift from me and Ingrid.”
Ambra stroked the little green figurine. The color was so intense it was almost glowing. “Thank you,” she said quietly. She folded the paper back over the frog and gave Elsa a warm hug.
“Let’s stay in touch,” Elsa said.
Ambra nodded.
When she came out onto the street, it was almost four in the afternoon. She looked up at the sky. It was perfectly clear but dark. She zipped up her jacket and wondered whether she should check to see if the movie theater was open or whether she should just go back to the hotel, sit down at her computer, and get a little work done.
“Hi there,” a shadow said, emerging from the darkness.
She jumped. What the hell. Tom Lexington. “You scared me,” she said accusingly.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said.
“Why are you sneaking around, scaring people?”
* * *
Tom gave Ambra an apologetic shrug. It really wasn’t his intention to startle her. He had spotted her coming out of the doorway and made himself seen.
“Sorry. But I’m not sneaking around. I’m walking the dog.” He pointed to Freja as she sniffed about in the snow. They had been out for hours, ever since he’d left Ellinor and Nilas, walking around the whole of Kiruna, but Freja still didn’t seem the least bit tired. “She wanted to come this way. Maybe she has a boyfriend around here somewhere?”
“Probably. Men always cause trouble for us women.”
In Tom’s opinion, it was at least as often the other way, but what did he know? If the past few days had taught him anything, it was that he was useless with women. Aside from the dog kind, perhaps.
Ambra studied the shaggy animal. “I didn’t realize it was yours.”
“She isn’t. Her name’s Freja.”
They both looked down at the colossus, which was now digging for something in the snow. “I think she might have a screw loose,” he added.
Ambra smirked, and a warm sensation spread through his chest. He liked it when she smiled.
“Have you been outside since we met earlier?”
He nodded. It felt good to have cleared his thoughts. Good to avoid Mattias, to get a little exercise.
“Listen, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted outside the store. It was a weird situation for me. Ellinor’s my girl. My ex, I mean.”
“Yeah, she said.”
“And Nilas is her new . . . uh . . . guy.”
Ambra kicked the snow gently with one foot. “Strange situation,” she said neutrally.
“Freja is his dog.”
She looked up at that. Raised one of those long eyebrows slightly. They were like jet black slashes on her pale face. “And you’re taking care of her?”
“Only temporarily.” He would take Freja back that evening. Or maybe tomorrow. She wasn’t any trouble, not really, and one night here or there didn’t make much difference.
“I’m sorry too. For everything.”
But Tom shook his head. Ambra hardly had anything to apologize for. “How was Elsa’s?” he asked.
“Good. Nice. She’s interesting.”
“Are you going back to the hotel?” he asked. “Or are you headed home today?”
“I’ll be here another day or two.”
“We can walk you to the hotel, if that’s all right? The dog still needs to walk off a little energy. I don’t know where she gets it from.”
Ambra nodded and Tom whistled to Freja, who came running.
Ambra laughed as they started walking. “She listens to you.”
“Yeah, it’s like I’m some damn dog whisperer. Hey, I read your articles.”
“You did? Which?”
“All of them, I think. Don’t sound so surprised. I do actually know how to read. They were interesting. You’re a good writer.”
She gave him a skeptical look.
“That was meant as a compliment,” he said.
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I was just a little taken aback.”
They walked in silence again. Ambra seemed lost in thought, and Tom kept his eyes on Freja, who seemed thrilled at their extended walk. Every now and then she looked back at him, as though to make sure he was still there. She was a strange dog. Or maybe all dogs were like her.
“It’s so incredibly clear up here,” Ambra said after a while. She was looking up to the sky, where the stars were shining brightly. Their walk ended much too quickly; they were already at the hotel. She stopped by the entrance and shivered. “And so cold.”
Without thinking, Tom reached out to brush away a couple of snowflakes that had landed on her. And suddenly, from nowhere, the idea that he should pull Ambra close, sweep her into his arms and warm her shivering body, kiss that soft mouth, explore it a little more thoroughly, came to him.
“You aren’t wearing enough,” he satisfied himself by saying.
“I know. It’s a pure protest. I refuse to adapt to Kiruna.”
“Why?”
“I hate Kiruna.”
“You’ll freeze to death,” he pointed out, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. It felt like typical Ambra to defy the weather gods and an entire city.
“I think I already have, actually.”
“Why do you hate Kiruna so much?” he asked.
“I lived here when I was a kid. It wasn’t a good time.”
“No?” He grazed her shoulder, brushed away some snow, and then pulled back his hand.
“No. Elsa mentioned the Northern Lights would be visible tonight,” she said.
He wondered what could have happened while she lived here, what could be so bad that she changed the subject like that, but instead he looked up toward the clear sky. “Probably. You like them?”
“No idea. I’ve never seen them.”
“But you lived here.” How was it possible that she had never seen the lights?
“I must’ve missed them. Or repressed it.”
“But you’ve been on a snowmobile before?”
“Nope, never done that either.”
“Then of course you don’t like Kiruna. You missed all the fun parts.”
“Which are?”
“Looking at the Northern Lights. Riding snowmobiles.”
She smiled, waved away a snowflake that had floated down onto her forehead.
“It’s fun,” he said, and an idea suddenly came to him. “Are you working tonight?”
“I think so. Why?”
“We could ride snowmobiles and watch the Northern Lights. I know a good place.”
“In the middle of the night?” Her tone was deeply skeptical.
“That is when the lights are visible,” he pointed out. “I can pick you up here at eight.”
She seemed to hesitate, followed Freja with her eye
s and bit her lip. “Are you sure?” she eventually asked.
Warmth spread through his chest again. “I’ll drop Freja off at home and then pick you up. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”
“And cold.”
“That too.” He was so close to bending down to kiss her on the nose, but he managed to stop himself in time. He had already crossed some kind of boundary with his impulsive idea. He raised a hand and patted her arm instead, as though she were one of his men.
“Dress warm.”
Chapter 17
“What are you going to wear?” Jill asked over the phone. She had left the hotel and Kiruna early that morning, before breakfast, constantly on the go.
Ambra looked down at herself. She had borrowed a pair of ski pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and some thick socks from reception. “Everything I have, I think. It’s not exactly the kind of date where you dress up.” She thought for a moment. “It’s probably not even a date.”
“Maybe just as well. Remind me to take you shopping for some cute clothes sometime. Do you even own anything other than knitted sweaters and jeans?”
“Of course I do,” Ambra lied. Going shopping with her sister was probably at the top of her list of Humiliating Things I’d Rather Not Do Ever. She clamped her cell phone against her shoulder with her ear, pulled on a hat, and quickly glanced in the mirror. She was barely visible beneath all the layers, and she was already sweating. She hesitated, but her vanity won out and she applied a little lip gloss.
“Is his friend going with you?” Jill asked breezily.
Ambra paused. “Who? Mattias? I don’t think so.” I hope not. “Why are you wondering that?”
“A girl can wonder.”
Was Jill interested in Mattias? Or did she just want to worm her way into Ambra’s life? Jill had a tendency to do that; she would sweep in, take over Ambra’s friends, outshine her, and blind everyone with her fame and her striking beauty.
“No, it’s just the two of us,” she said firmly.
“Just say if you want any tips on how to act. I’m not saying you’re the biggest nerd when it comes to men, but honestly, Ambra, you have plenty to work on.”
Just what she wanted to hear after all of her doubts. “Thanks a bunch for the pep talk.” She thought for a moment, eventually worked up the courage, and asked. She hoped Jill wouldn’t be too harsh. “What is it I need to work on, exactly?”
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