Time for New Beginnings Read online

  ***

  The kitchen was spotless again, and Bettina put down the rag to wash her hands.

  “Thanks for helping out.”

  “I’ve decided to move home on Wednesday,” Christel said. “Ted will arrive soon, and you need to continue planning your wedding. It will be quieter without me.”

  Bettina agreed with her but didn’t want her to leave. Having her here was nice. At the same time, she was relieved. It would make everything so much easier. “I’ll miss you,” she said and meant it.

  “Wouldn’t it be safer if you stayed here for a few more days?” Preben looked uneasy. “There are people around you in case something happens.”

  Christel smiled indulgently. “Not a lot can happen except for the baby being born.”

  “But you have no one to drive you to the hospital.” He stood with furrowed eyebrows and seemed to evaluate her options.

  Christel got up and moved the napkin holder to the right place on the table. “I guess I’ll call a taxi then, or an ambulance. I’ve started feeling contractions, so Ted might be here soon.”

  Bettina could tell that Preben was racking his brain. She had a feeling that she knew what he was about to say, so she beat him to it. “There are a few days until you leave, so you have enough time to change your mind.”

  “Thanks, you’re so kind.”

  “What do you think of Mexican food on our wedding day?” Bettina tried to build up some enthusiasm for the wedding and looked at him with anticipation. Christel had gone for an evening stroll, and they had the living room to themselves for a change.

  “Mexican?” He looked like he had never heard the word before. “Uh, it’s not that common at a wedding.”

  “In Mexico it is. And I have Mexican roots. What about having a Mexican theme?” The idea had popped up, and she may as well see how it landed. “Live guitar and flamenco, salsa, and merengue. Wouldn’t that be fun? We can take dance lessons together, so you can learn it quickly. Did you know that, in the old days, it was common to host the wedding at the house or garden of the bride? Kind of what I suggested. So what do you think?”

  “I’m sure that’s all right. But I was imagining a more stylish wedding. A fancy venue with room for many guests. And slightly less exotic food. Filet mignon, perhaps.”

  She could tell where the conversation was headed and felt some of her fire disappear. Apparently, they couldn’t agree on anything. They didn’t seem to get anywhere. They couldn’t decide on a date because they couldn’t agree on a church. They couldn’t decide on the venue for the reception because they didn’t agree on the style. And the menu had to match the surroundings and the type of wedding they chose. Transportation wasn’t something they could decide now, either. She saw a glimpse of hope.

  “But we agree on the honeymoon?”

  His face lit up. “Yes, we’re going to Mexico. I’m leaving that entirely to you. But we’re not just going to visit relatives, are we? I’d like to swim in the sea when we’re there.”

  She beamed. So they agreed on that, at least. They had taken a step in the right direction. “Sure, there’ll be time for both.”

  She remembered that the flowers and type of dress were decided on, but that was because he didn’t have much of an opinion on it. Well, the flowers were not decided on. He wanted roses, like last time. But she would be decisive on that one. This was their wedding and not a rerun of his previous one. Gosh, there was so much to consider.

  “Then that’s decided.” He kissed her and got up. “It’s been a long day. See you.”

  17

  Mathilde didn’t show up for breakfast the next morning, but she looked better and had taken up her embroidery again. Bettina could tell how her aunt was doing by whether she had the energy to embroider or not. She was grateful for small improvements. When Christel didn’t show up, either, she was surprised. But she would most likely come down in a while. It must be good to sleep in and dream about Ted. She would let her rest as much as possible, which was the purpose of this stay. It would get busy soon enough, with a kid in the house.

  She ate breakfast with Anneli. It was nice for it to be just the two of them. It had been a long time since they’d had time to themselves, and they enjoyed it so much that they nearly forgot about school.

  Bettina was left alone and had an extra cup of coffee. How peaceful it was here now. There was not a sound in the house. She heard lively birdsong every morning when she woke up. She could even hear them through the kitchen window now. It was a rare experience that wasn’t granted to everyone. She knew she had made the right decision to take over the guesthouse. Mathilde wouldn’t have been able to run this place by herself. Bettina had to admit that the guesthouse was at her mercy. Even when they were married, most of the work would be on her. Preben had to work and would come home late in the afternoon, to a prepared dinner. He could help with some of the gardening, but there was a limit to how much time he could spend weeding. And she couldn’t let her aunt loose in the garden again. No one knew if her heart could take another round of weeding.

  She looked at her watch; it was half past nine already. At a guesthouse, you weren’t supposed to check on the guests, and definitely not search for them, but Christel was no ordinary guest. She had to check on her.

  She went upstairs to the second floor and carefully knocked on her door. She didn’t get any answer, so she called her.

  “Come in, it’s open.” Christel was in bed, wearing a cute t-shirt with pink hearts.

  “I was worried when you didn’t show up for breakfast. Are you all right?”

  Christel scratched her short, messy hair and sat up. “I barely slept last night. I had contractions, almost like stomach convulsions, most of the night. They keep coming and going. Is it supposed to be like that? There are two weeks left until the birth.” She dried her forehead with the back of her hand.

  Bettina looked at her, astounded. She hadn’t imagined this scenario when the first guest checked in a couple of weeks ago. “I’m afraid it might be that the contractions have started. How far are they apart, do you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Just then, another contraction started, and confirmed her suspicions. She stayed for half an hour until the next one came. “We’ll keep an eye on it throughout the day,” she said and looked at her watch. “The doctor is coming by later today and can have a look at you then. But if the contractions get more frequent, we’ll have to call him. Either way, I think you should stay in bed for now, so Ted can remain in your tummy as long as possible. I’ll get you some food.”

  “Poor you, Bettina. Now you have two bedridden patients. This is terrible. You’re not running a hospital, but a guesthouse.”

  “Good thing I’m versatile. Don’t worry about it. We’ll see if it stops during the day. You’re going home tomorrow. You might end up going straight to the hospital instead.”

  She went downstairs to prepare breakfast for Christel. She was easy to please, and only wanted a slice of bread with cheese and cucumber, and a glass of juice. She had asked her to time the breaks between the contractions, to get a better idea of when to expect Ted. She tried to think back to the birth of her daughter, but it was so many years ago. She had forgotten most of it but knew there were several types of contractions. The pain was a vague memory, although she remembered it had been excruciatingly painful. What she hadn’t forgotten was the incredibly long birth that never seemed to end.

  She set the food on the bedside table, and a thought hit her. “Your waters haven’t broken?”

  Christel looked at her as if that type of water leak was unheard of and completely inappropriate. “No idea. I spent much of the night on the toilet. I even fell asleep there.”

  She smiled. “You would have noticed. At least, I did.”

  Christel took a bite. “As a nurse, I know how everything happens. I’m well prepared for labor. But when you’re in the middle of it, it’s like all thoughts evaporate. I’m an only child, and my mother
had a swift birth. It was over in a few hours. That kind of thing is genetic, so I hope I’ll be lucky.”

  “Yes, you may be. Have you had more contractions?”

  Christel drank the juice greedily. “I had one while you were in the kitchen. It was stronger than the other ones. But it’s a long time between each. And I know you can have contractions for days, even weeks.”

  She nodded. “I’ll come by later with lunch. If you want anything before that, just call or text me.”

  The patient smiled weakly. It showed that she was tired and not quite herself.

  “What great room service, Bettina.”

  ***

  Christel felt new convulsions in her tummy and wondered how she was supposed to drive home tomorrow. It had been an exhausting night, which she remembered bits and parts of. She had never imagined it would be so painful to give birth, and she wasn’t even close to being in labor. Ted should stay put for a while longer, but he didn’t seem to agree. How long was she going to keep on like this? It felt like she had forgotten everything she had learned in the prenatal class she had gone to all by herself. They had done breathing techniques and simulated giving birth several times. The spouses had been both engaged and encouraging. Only her partner was missing. That had been a sore point. But it had proven problematic for an anonymous donor to show up. She had decided to focus on the baby and the positive aspects, but it hadn’t been easy. The loving couples had been sitting close to each other, and she had felt like a failure. Sure, she had managed to get pregnant eventually, but it had been at the expense of her marriage. And she and Preben both knew that if it hadn’t been for these problems, they would still be happily married.

  Ouch, that was another contraction. She fought through it and tried to breathe calmly as she had learned. Beads of sweat were shining on her forehead, and she closed her eyes. For a moment, she considered calling her parents but decided against it. They had made up their minds. Hopefully, they would be tempted to reconnect once Ted was born. She could always dream.

  ***

  It was a nasty fall day, and the rain was pouring down. The strong wind grabbed hold of the trees and whirled the leaves in all directions. The only sensible thing to do was to stay inside. There was no danger that Preben would honor them with a visit today. Bettina sat in the workroom and watched the raindrops pour down the window. She hadn’t had the opportunity to paint in days, and her fingers were itching to continue the landscape painting. She opened a tube of pale olive-green paint and squeezed out a small amount on the palette. Then she picked one of the thin brushes and started painting the leaves. It was relaxing to devote herself to the painting, but her thoughts kept going back to Christel and Mathilde. It was a peculiar situation to have two guests in bed. Yes, because Mathilde appeared to be more of a guest than a co-owner of the guesthouse. And tomorrow Christel was leaving. It would be odd, as she had been staying here so long. But new bookings kept coming in, so it wouldn’t be long until they had more guests.

  When she drove to the bakery this morning, she noticed that the foundation wall of the new hotel had started to find its shape. It was situated at the extension of the marina, right by the sea, and would have a spectacular view. It didn’t concern her that much anymore. She would do her best to make guests choose her place for their next visit to Solvik. And so far, it seemed like the few guests had enjoyed their stay.

  She smiled to herself while mixing the paint with a slightly darker shade, to get more depth in the painting. The opening of the guesthouse, and the somewhat unusual start, had been far from what she had expected. A house full of future in-laws, her fiancé, and his ex-wife had made for a both entertaining and sometimes chaotic place. She could only hope for calmer times ahead…

  The doctor came to check on Mathilde when Bettina was about to serve minestrone. “I have two patients at the moment,” she informed him and told him about the latest news. She had run up to their rooms several times throughout the day with lunch and drinks, and to make sure their conditions hadn’t worsened.

  “Good gracious. I’ll have a look at Mrs. Fredriksen first.”

  She set the food on a tray, and they went upstairs to her apartment.

  “You don’t look too bad today,” he said and checked all her vital functions. “Are you ready to get out of bed again?”

  Mathilde turned paler than the winter snow that would fall in a few months. “When is this troublesome tiredness going to leave? I have no strength.”

  He nodded. “I understand. It takes time, but it would do you good to come down to the living room.”

  She reached for the tray of soup. “I’ll try tomorrow.”

  ***

  Mathilde watched them leave the room. Feeling faint, she looked at the door closing behind them. Couldn’t the young doctor see how exhausted she was? And how could he suggest she leave her bed? He wasn’t the one who was sick. He didn’t know how she was feeling. But she was grateful for the home visits. Few places still offered it.

  Her eyes slid shut, and her thoughts went to the future, more specifically the future of the guesthouse. Yes, because her prospects were so-so. Her spark of life was gone and this wasn’t improved by her staying in bed. But it was easier said than done to get up when her strength had disappeared without a trace, and her motivation had vanished. And then there was this awful tiredness on top of everything else.

  She started to think about her will and felt a flicker of panic. She needed to make some changes. As soon as she recovered, she had to go through the paperwork. She really must not forget that…

  ***

  Bettina knocked on Christel’s door.

  “Come in.”

  “What do we have here? I thought you preferred to give birth at the hospital,” Erik joked.

  Christel smiled weakly. “You’re right. But last night I wasn’t so sure.” She told him how the night had been and about the contractions.

  He examined her. “I’m neither an obstetrician nor a midwife, but I have some knowledge about this. I think it’s reasonable to go home tomorrow morning like you planned. It’s quicker to get to the hospital from your apartment. But if the contractions become more frequent and gradually get stronger during the night, you need to call me.”

  “I will.”

  “Would you like some soup?” Bettina asked and fluffed her pillows.

  “No, thanks, I’ll wait. I feel so hot.” She touched her forehead.

  Bettina didn’t know whether it was the presence of the doctor that had gone to her head or if it was the upcoming birth. Thinking about it, she hadn’t heard any comments about the attractive doctor lately. How odd.

  They went down to the kitchen. “Would you like some soup?” She lifted the lid off the pot, and the smell of garlic and parsley filled the room.

  He took a deep breath. “Mmm, that looks tasty. I won’t say no if you have extra.”

  She smiled and filled two bowls. “I’ve finally gotten used to making big portions.” She removed the warm rolls from the oven and cut them open. The butter she smeared on melted over the edge, and had to be a cholesterol bomb for a healthy-minded doctor.

  “What’s your opinion on Christel?”

  He frowned in a way that she couldn’t interpret. “To be honest, I’m a little concerned. It might take a few days, but it could also be rapid, as it was with her mother. She should definitely leave tomorrow.”

  “Yes, it’s better she’s in her apartment when it gets closer. But I’m going to miss her.”

  He raised his eyebrows and looked at her inquisitively. “Even when it’s hard having her here with your fiancé? Most people in your situation would be happy to see her leave. Most would have thrown her out.”

  She put the rolls on a plate. “Not me. Christel is great. It’s impossible not to like her.”

  “Has she helped you any more with the wedding plans?”

  She nodded. “I would like a Mexican menu. But it’s untraditional, and wasn’t met with enthusiasm.”r />
  “With Preben, you mean?”

  “Yes, Christel is flexible and up for most things. But she’s not the one I’m marrying.” She saw the funny side of it and started laughing. She refused to take it too seriously. There were so many things they disagreed on. If they kept going at this rate, they would never end up getting married.

  He laughed. “No, it seems like you have plenty of things you still have to agree with your fiancé on.”

  She sighed. “We can’t even agree on a date for the wedding. How hard can it be? The date I suggested was all wrong. It was in May, and a few weeks after his and Christel’s wedding anniversary.”

  “This has developed into a real soap opera,” he said and looked at her in wonder. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

  “The thought has crossed my mind.” She went to mix a pitcher of apple cider and lemon soda and added a handful of ice cubes. She remembered this fresh, sweet drink from when she was little. It had been with her all these years after she moved out from home.

  They sat thinking but the silence was not uncomfortable. It was more like between close friends where you didn’t have to say anything to fill gaps.

  “I wonder if he’s tempted to go back to Christel. Now she’s having the child they yearned for, they have everything they need.” She had been mulling this over lately, and suddenly she blurted it out. “Oops, I didn’t mean to say that aloud.”

  He took her hand. “Why shouldn’t you say it? It’s very relevant. Anyone would have the same thoughts. It’s completely understandable.”

  “There’s never been anything wrong with my self-confidence, but apparently I’m naive. I think the best of everyone.”