19“Your mother was one of them . . .”
Asger’s voice echoed in Lena’s mind the next morning. She was seated beside Edwin in the kitchen, staring blankly at her breakfast, unable to eat.
“You’re quiet, lass.”
She peered up, eyes heavy from lack of sleep. Edwin kept his unseeing gaze on his plate, preoccupied with slicing his sausages into dimes.
“Is something troubling you?” he asked, his voice quiet.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Lena nodded, though he couldn’t see her. She shifted her eyes to the window, wondering if Asger would return to the little beach beyond the meadow. If he’d come back every month and wait for her, body shining brightly beneath the full, silver moon.
She hoped he wouldn’t. Hoped he would. Wasn’t sure what to hope for anymore.
Ahead, the morning sun consumed the wind
