There's no place like HOME (Emma Frost Book 8) Page 13

I was just thrilled. Maya seemed to be doing much better already. She hadn’t come home crying again, and she looked forward to spending time with Dr. Sonnichsen. I had no idea how long we would have her, but I was hoping it would be a long time.

  On Friday, she arrived, as usual, right before Maya came home from school, and we all had afternoon tea together. Then, they moved to the living room and began their work.

  I had decided not to meddle, but was incredibly curious as to what they were doing. Later that day, Dr. Sonnichsen finally decided to enlighten me a little.

  She came into the kitchen where I was preparing dinner and sat down.

  “So, to keep you updated, I can tell you that I have now observed Maya for a couple of days and tried to figure out exactly how much she remembers and where she has gaps. I have to say, there are a lot of gaps…putting it mildly. But, that doesn’t mean she can’t fill those out in time. But it will take just that…Time.”

  I wiped my fingers on my apron and sat down. My stomach turned into a knot, wondering how much time it would take.

  “I know you want to know how long it’s going to take,” Dr. Sonnichsen continued, as if she had read my mind. “But, as a habit, I never try to estimate a timeframe for the simple reason that each child is very different, and every case I meet is different. It might take weeks; it might take even years. I don’t know.”

  Years?!

  Everything inside of me was screaming desperately. Was this thing going to go on for years?

  “And, you must know that there is such a thing as permanent amnesia. Not all patients regain their memory completely. That is, of course, only in the very severe cases,” she continued.

  “Is Maya severe?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  Dr. Sonnichsen exhaled. “Who can say? All I can tell you is that I intend to work with her from now on, and we’ll just have to see.”

  “Okay. Okay,” I said, even though I wanted to scream in frustration. I needed better answers, clearer answers. I needed to know that my daughter would be herself…and, preferably, very soon.

  “So, you’ll work with her, here in this house every day…or?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’ll start a more intensive program this Monday. I have great hopes for Maya.”

  I closed my eyes in relief. At least she had good hopes. That was something. It was a start.

  “For how long? How long will you be able to work with her?” I asked anxiously.

  Dr. Sonnichsen smiled. There was something about that smile that reminded me of someone. I couldn’t figure out who it was.

  “As long as it takes,” she said.

  “As long as it takes?” I asked, baffled. “As in, no limits? What if it takes years for her to get better?”

  “That is very rare,” she said. “The children I work with usually regain around eighty percent of their memory within three to four months, but that varies a lot, naturally. It cannot be forced. We must give it the time it takes for the brain to heal. It’s a very delicate matter, the memory, and we must take it one day at a time. Let’s see where it takes us, shall we?”

  Dr. Sonnichsen looked at me intensely. I felt comfortable in her presence. I was happy to put my daughter in her hands.

  She rose to her feet and put on her jacket. “I’ll start with the memory training on Maya on Monday. At first, we’ll focus on helping her with day-to-day tasks, help her organize herself to avoid further confusion in her life right now. She needs all the stability she can get. I’ll let you know that the children I usually work with suffer from what we call Dissociative Amnesia, a condition triggered by trauma. I’ve never worked with someone with drugged-induced amnesia before. I do, however, think that Maya’s reactions will be very similar to those of my other patients.”

  “And, what are those reactions, usually?” I asked.

  “She might get introverted from time to time, even draw away from you and your family; she could get angry, aggressive, or refuse to speak at all. Those are very common reactions. She’s not in a good place right now, and she can’t explain to others what is happening, since she doesn’t understand it herself. Be aware of signs of a beginning depression as well. But, do promise me you won’t treat her as if she’s sick. She is not ill. It is vital that you try to keep a normal life for her. Keep her in school. Have her be with her friends. Talk to her friends and tell them she doesn’t understand everything, and that she has a hard time remembering things. It might bother them, or even hurt them, that she can’t remember them, but explain to them it’s not personal. She’s just going through a rough time. Provide a secure and caring environment at home. Make her feel useful. Give her some chores that she can handle easily.”

  Dr. Sonnichsen gave me a friendly smile.

  “I…I can’t thank you enough,” I said. “You have no idea how much I’ve prayed for help. You’re heaven sent.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. But I’m glad that I can be of help to you in this difficult time. See you on Monday.”

  “See you then.”

  44

  August 2014

  THEY HAD BOUGHT a house. Finally, Camilla and Mikkel had been able to agree on something. Ever since they met each other in a club in Esbjerg, they had fought about everything. It could even be the littlest things, like what to eat or how to spend the weekend.

  So, naturally, finding a house, the right house, had taken them almost a year. They were both fed up with looking and searching for the right one, so when the yellow house on the south side of Fanoe Island showed up, and they actually, finally, agreed, they threw in an offer as fast as possible. The bank almost said no, since Camilla wanted to start up her own business as a tattoo-artist. They didn’t believe in that idea very much, plus, she had a lot of debt from travelling around in Asia, charging everything on her credit cards, and never being able to pay it back.

  But Mikkel had a decent job, and made an okay, but stable, living. Enough for him to be able to vouch for her. He told the bank that he was good for the money, and they knew he was, since his parents owned a big house on the water on the mainland. They knew he would eventually inherit enough money to pay their debts, if necessary.

  So, finally, they were able to move into their new house and begin a brand new life for themselves. It was in Sonderho, the second largest city on the island. A perfect place for the two of them to start all over.

  They couldn’t agree on whether to pay for a moving company or just do everything themselves. Camilla thought it would be nice to have people do the hard work for her, while Mikkel said they had to be sensible with their money now…that they couldn’t just throw it around like she used to.

  “We have a big car. We don’t have much stuff anyway. We can fit it in my sister’s mini-van,” he said. “We might have to make a few trips, but we’ll still save a lot of money.”

  They fought about that for a couple of hours, and then settled on renting a moving truck, so they only had to make the trip once.

  Now they had moved all their stuff and were standing in their messy living room filled with boxes and bags, Mikkel grabbed two beers, and handed one to Camilla.

  “Light beer?” Camilla complained. “I hate light beer.”

  “Yeah, well I love it,” Mikkel said and opened his.

  Camilla opened hers, as well, even if it was a little reluctantly.

  “To our new home,” Mikkel said, as they toasted.

  Then they drank. Camilla wiped away her black hair that was constantly in her face. Her tongue was playing with the new piercing in her lip. “I don’t want the couch to be over here; I want it over there,” she said, and pointed to the corner.

  “What?” Mikkel said.

  Camilla drank from her beer. “That’s the way it’s gonna be, and you know it,” she said, after swallowing.

  “Never,” Mikkel said.

  “Why are you fighting me on this?” she asked. “You know I’ll get my way at some point.”

  “No. Not about this. You got to c
hoose that hideous couch. Now I want to say where it goes. If that thing is going to be in my living room, it has to be right there where I put it.”

  “Nope,” she said.

  “It will,” he said.

  “No, it won’t,” she said.

  “I don’t want it over there. That’s the worst place to put a couch. You can hardly get past it and walk into the kitchen. Why don’t you think before you speak?”

  “Why don’t you think?” Camilla said, mocking him.

  But Mikkel didn’t reply. Instead, he walked to the window and looked into the dusk.

  “What are you doing?” Camilla asked. What was he up to? He was ruining a perfectly good fight.

  “I think I saw something,” he said.

  Camilla scoffed. “Like what? There’s nothing on this island.”

  “It looked like someone was looking in,” he said.

  “Let me see,” Camilla said, and walked to the window in her black army boots. “Pah, there’s nothing there.”

  “There was someone. I’m certain. I’m not lying to you,” Mikkel said, his face turning red in distress. She always thought he was such a wuss. He hated that. “I’m not making this up.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. No one is there,” Camilla said. “Let’s unpack a few more boxes and then go to bed.”

  45

  August 2014

  MIKKEL GRABBED A few more books from the box and put them on the shelf. Camilla was upstairs in the bedroom, making the bed so they could soon get some sleep. Mikkel was exhausted. He hated moving, and hoped this was going to be the last time for many years. This was the place he wanted to stay; he wanted to have children here and grow old here. He wanted to grow old with Camilla.

  Camilla was of a completely different opinion, of course. She wasn’t ready to settle yet, she kept telling him. She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t able to stay in the same place for long. She would always tease him about being too sensible, so boring, and she would call him an old man in a young man’s body. She wanted to live in many places, many different cities, and even different countries. Just the thought exhausted Mikkel even further.

  But, he loved her. He loved her more than anyone he had ever had close to him in his life. He had no idea he was even capable of loving anyone this much. It was overwhelming. So, they fought a lot. It didn’t matter. They kind of liked it. Both of them did. Camilla was feisty, and it was very good for Mikkel to be with her. She was the perfect counterpart. She would keep him on his toes, and with her, he would never grow old and dull like his parents had.

  That was his worst fear…ending up like them. He liked stability, yes, but there was a part of him that was almost as terrified of it as Camilla was. He had seen what it had done to his parents.

  Mikkel smiled at the thought of their crazy wedding. It hadn’t been exactly the way his mother had pictured it, that was for sure. It had been held at a graveyard, the music was death metal, and everyone had worn black. Even Camilla.

  It had amused Mikkel to see his mother’s face during the ceremony…her mouth looking like she had eaten a bitter lemon. Her lips had been tight and colorless. Oh, how he had loved it. And so had Camilla. It had been a perfect wedding, in her wonderfully twisted mind. It had reminded him more of Halloween or a movie by Tim Burton. But he had let her have it her way, even though it was strange for him as well…because he loved her and he wanted to make her happy.

  Mikkel whistled and put more books on the shelf. Yes, there were many things the two of them didn’t agree upon, but their love was indisputable. They were going to be very happy in this cozy little house on this strange island. Mikkel just knew they would.

  Mikkel looked inside the box to see how much was left.

  It’s almost empty. Just a few more books, and then you’re done. Then, you can go to bed.

  Mikkel whistled again, then reached down to grab the last books when he heard something. He looked up. It sounded like it came from the yard. Mikkel walked to the window, where he thought he had seen someone earlier.

  Who was out there? A hobo looking through their trash? An animal of some sort? The house had been empty for a long time. Who knew what creatures might be used to living out there, or even humans maybe?

  Mikkel had lived in a city all of his life and wasn’t used to the darkness or wildlife they had on this island. He peeked out the window, but couldn’t see anything. Then he heard another sound. It sounded like the garden door slamming. There it was again. Was it the wind? It kept slamming.

  Better go out and close it properly, he thought to himself. With that noise it makes, we’ll never get any sleep tonight.

  Mikkel found his clogs and put them on. It wasn’t too cold outside yet. Summer was almost over, and Mikkel didn’t look forward to the fall. He hated the cold, and had often dreamt about moving to a warmer country.

  That’s it. Next time Camilla demands a change, I’ll tell her we’ll move to Spain. If I can’t grow old here in this house, then we might as well move far away. It would be good to get away from the old folks anyway.

  He thought the thought, but knew he would never follow through. It was too much trouble. How would he even get a job there?

  Mikkel walked out the back door and into the yard, where the door was slamming again and again. He walked towards it, when suddenly, lights were turned on.

  “What the…?” Mikkel said.

  The big tree at the end of the yard was dressed in colorful Christmas lights. Mikkel couldn’t recall the tree having lights in it when he was in the yard earlier today. He stared at it in disbelief, when suddenly, a big sign was folded out between two of the smaller trees.

  WELCOME

  Mikkel read it, not knowing what to make of it. Who had put it there? Who had put up the lights?

  “SURPRISE!”

  The words came from behind the tree. A man came out from behind it. He was wearing sunglasses, even though the sun had set long ago.

  “Excuse me?” Mikkel asked.

  The man approached him. He was holding a bottle in his hand. Mikkel found it all a little strange.

  “Surprise!” he said again. He came up close to Mikkel. He was smiling. “It’s a surprise party. To welcome you home.”

  Mikkel looked at the man. Was he for real? What the heck was this?

  “I…But…but no one is here. It’s just you?” he said, and scanned the yard to see if there could be others hiding behind the trees.

  “I am your party,” the man said, right before he slammed the bottle into Mikkel’s head.

  46

  August 2014

  VICTOR WOKE UP screaming that night. I ran to his room to help him calm down. His little body was shaking all over. His PJs were soaked in sweat.

  “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!”

  “I’m here, Victor. I’m right here next to you. It was just a bad dream.”

  Victor lifted his head. I could tell he was looking at me, and I spotted his beautiful eyes between his curls.

  “Scarecrows don’t talk, Mommy. Scarecrows don’t talk!”

  I stared at my son. I didn’t understand why he was saying this to me. Was it something from his dream? “No, of course they don’t,” I said. “Did you dream of scarecrows?”

  “No, Mommy. No. Scarecrows don’t talk. Scarecrows don’t talk!”

  He was yelling at me now. I hated that I didn’t understand why he was saying this. I could tell it was very important to him.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t understand…I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”

  “It’s from that movie again.”

  I turned my head and spotted Maya in the doorway. My heart dropped. “The same movie?” I asked.

  Maya nodded. She yawned.

  “But…but why? Why is he saying this in the middle of the night?” My heart was racing, while Victor kept repeating the same sentence over and over again.

  “Scarecrows don’t talk. Scarecrows don’t talk…”

  It was
about to drive me crazy. My heart was pounding in my chest. I had a feeling I had to react to this somehow. The last two times Victor had quoted this movie, people had ended up dead. I couldn’t just listen to this. I couldn’t live with myself if someone was killed tonight and I hadn’t done anything about it. I had to do something.

  But I had no idea what.

  Then it struck me. The killer went after people who had just bought new houses!

  “I’m going to do something about this, Victor, don’t worry about it,” I said, then stormed downstairs and grabbed my laptop. I opened my mailbox. I had subscribed to real estate listings a long time ago, while trying to find a house for my father when he wanted to move here. I received e-mails every day about new houses that had been placed on the market, and about houses that had just been sold. It was a long shot, but maybe…

  I scrolled to the e-mail I had received earlier that day, but there were no sold houses. I slammed my fist into the table. It had been a long shot, I knew, but somehow, I had hoped that I could…

  If they moved in today, then they would have bought the house earlier. Maybe a couple of days ago, maybe even longer.

  I searched my inbox and found all the e-mails I had received from the local realtor for the entire month. I started opening them, one after the other. It didn’t take long before I found it. The latest sold house on the island was a small two bedroom yellow brick house on the south side, in Sonderho.

  The other killings had been here in Nordby. Would he move away from his comfort zone? I looked at my watch. It was almost midnight. It took about fifteen minutes to reach to the other end of the island. It wasn’t a very long drive. But, I did, of course, risk that he was attacking someone here in Nordby while I was gone. I scrolled through a few e-mails. No, there hadn’t been any other houses sold on the island for weeks, it appeared.

  It was a chance I had to take.

  47