her daddy would sleep there too. My aunt didn't miss a beat. "When he arrives, he can sleep here too." This seemed to please Liv enough that she didn't ask more questions, but every now and then she'd flicker her eyes toward me and the confused look I saw made me feel ashamed for leaving the way I did.
I slept fitfully. Twice I reached for Mads, my body craving his firmness and his heat, only to remember too late that he was not with me. At some point, Liv crawled into bed with me. She croaked a very hoarse "Mommy" as she stroked my cheek. "I'm here," I whispered. I wasn't sure what time it was. The sky was still dark, but I could hear seagulls so it must have been close to sunrise.
"Mommy's here..."
Her springy curls tickled my neck as she shifted in the unfamiliar bed. "The bed smells funny here," she said in Danish. "It smells like candy..."
"It's the fabric softener," I murmured to her. "Gramma uses a different one from us."
"Why?"
"Because they don't sell the one we like here," I told her. "I'll look for another brand when we go to the store and then we can wash your sheets."
"Okay...I don't think Papa will like candy sheets."
"No, probably not."
"When is Papa coming?"
"Soon..." I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She still smelled warm and sleepy. Maybe she would fall asleep again...I wasn't ready to talk about Mads yet. I hadn't called him last night, even though I'd promised Aunt Cecily I would. His voice...even now when I was furious with him...I knew it would make me melt. The roughness of it, the way he could say my name and it sent waves of lust through me, no...it was better not to call him yet. I needed a clear head to speak with him. But Liv...she was used to speaking to him every day, seeing him every day. She would want to talk to her father. I couldn't isolate the kids from him. No matter how upset I was, I couldn't keep our children from him forever. Sooner or later...he would demand to see them, even if he gave up on me.
"But when, Mommy?"
"Soon...he'll come soon." But for now, no matter how much my body wanted Mads's, my mind was telling me we needed a break. And even if it meant telling a white lie to my daughter, I needed peace of mind. I loved him...maybe I loved him too much.
But I couldn't be with him.
Not right now.
The next morning, Aunt Cecily treated us to a "proper" American breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, fried apples and bacon. Both Liv and Freya were mystified—our version of American breakfast was usually just scrambled eggs and bacon, maybe some bagels if we had time to pick any up from Torvnehallerne. At first, Liv picked at her fried apples, but Cecily convinced her to taste a tiny bit.
Liv clapped excitedly. "Mommy, det smager ligesom jul! "
I smiled at her. "It does, doesn't it?" Then I said to Cecily, "She says it tastes like Christmas—so that's a good thing."
Freya was in the highchair beside me, using a Winnie-the-Pooh toddler spoon to feed herself. I watched as she managed to get fried apples in her hair, on her nose...sometimes in her mouth. The sides of my mouth twitched into a smile. I asked her if she wanted more apples. She nodded and declared them "nam-nam"—Freya's favorite way of saying "delicious". Anything nam-nam was good—she could be such a fussy eater sometimes.
My aunt was watching the whole exchange. I wondered if she was analyzing it. "Can Liv understand English?"
"Mostly," I said. "So if you want to ask me something...personal, maybe we should wait."
Cecily nodded. "We need to fix you, Laney. But we'll talk about that when little ears aren't listening."
Once we'd eaten, and the girls were bathed and dressed, we took them for a walk—Liv in her stroller, Freya in the Baby B jö rn backpack that Mads usually used. The tree-lined street Aunt Cecily lived on was in a neighborhood called Dido Gardens. It was not directly on the beach, but it only took a few minutes to walk there and when Liv saw the long expanse of
I slept fitfully. Twice I reached for Mads, my body craving his firmness and his heat, only to remember too late that he was not with me. At some point, Liv crawled into bed with me. She croaked a very hoarse "Mommy" as she stroked my cheek. "I'm here," I whispered. I wasn't sure what time it was. The sky was still dark, but I could hear seagulls so it must have been close to sunrise.
"Mommy's here..."
Her springy curls tickled my neck as she shifted in the unfamiliar bed. "The bed smells funny here," she said in Danish. "It smells like candy..."
"It's the fabric softener," I murmured to her. "Gramma uses a different one from us."
"Why?"
"Because they don't sell the one we like here," I told her. "I'll look for another brand when we go to the store and then we can wash your sheets."
"Okay...I don't think Papa will like candy sheets."
"No, probably not."
"When is Papa coming?"
"Soon..." I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She still smelled warm and sleepy. Maybe she would fall asleep again...I wasn't ready to talk about Mads yet. I hadn't called him last night, even though I'd promised Aunt Cecily I would. His voice...even now when I was furious with him...I knew it would make me melt. The roughness of it, the way he could say my name and it sent waves of lust through me, no...it was better not to call him yet. I needed a clear head to speak with him. But Liv...she was used to speaking to him every day, seeing him every day. She would want to talk to her father. I couldn't isolate the kids from him. No matter how upset I was, I couldn't keep our children from him forever. Sooner or later...he would demand to see them, even if he gave up on me.
"But when, Mommy?"
"Soon...he'll come soon." But for now, no matter how much my body wanted Mads's, my mind was telling me we needed a break. And even if it meant telling a white lie to my daughter, I needed peace of mind. I loved him...maybe I loved him too much.
But I couldn't be with him.
Not right now.
The next morning, Aunt Cecily treated us to a "proper" American breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, fried apples and bacon. Both Liv and Freya were mystified—our version of American breakfast was usually just scrambled eggs and bacon, maybe some bagels if we had time to pick any up from Torvnehallerne. At first, Liv picked at her fried apples, but Cecily convinced her to taste a tiny bit.
Liv clapped excitedly. "Mommy, det smager ligesom jul! "
I smiled at her. "It does, doesn't it?" Then I said to Cecily, "She says it tastes like Christmas—so that's a good thing."
Freya was in the highchair beside me, using a Winnie-the-Pooh toddler spoon to feed herself. I watched as she managed to get fried apples in her hair, on her nose...sometimes in her mouth. The sides of my mouth twitched into a smile. I asked her if she wanted more apples. She nodded and declared them "nam-nam"—Freya's favorite way of saying "delicious". Anything nam-nam was good—she could be such a fussy eater sometimes.
My aunt was watching the whole exchange. I wondered if she was analyzing it. "Can Liv understand English?"
"Mostly," I said. "So if you want to ask me something...personal, maybe we should wait."
Cecily nodded. "We need to fix you, Laney. But we'll talk about that when little ears aren't listening."
Once we'd eaten, and the girls were bathed and dressed, we took them for a walk—Liv in her stroller, Freya in the Baby B jö rn backpack that Mads usually used. The tree-lined street Aunt Cecily lived on was in a neighborhood called Dido Gardens. It was not directly on the beach, but it only took a few minutes to walk there and when Liv saw the long expanse of
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