Punishment aka What Is Mine

FORTY-THREE

Aksel Seier had never been one to make quick decisions. As a rule, he liked to sleep on them. Preferably for a week or two. Even small, trivial things such as whether he should buy a new or a used fridge now that the old one had broken. He took his time. There were pros and cons with everything. He had to feel what was right. Be certain. The decision to leave Norway in 1966 should have been made the year before. He should have known there was no future in a country that had sent him to prison and kept him there for nine years without reason, a country so small that neither he nor anyone else would be allowed to forget what had happened. It just wasn’t in his nature to rush. Maybe it was a result of all those years in prison, when time passed so slowly it was difficult to fill it.

He was sitting on the stone wall outside his house, between the small garden and the beach. The granite was red and still warm from the sun; he could feel it through the back of his pants. The tide was out. Half-dead horseshoe crabs lay stranded along the water’s edge, some with their shells facing up, like tanks with tails. Others had been thrown on their backs by the breakers and were dying slowly in the sun with their claws in the air. The crabs reminded him of prehistoric monsters in miniature, a forgotten link in an evolution that should have made them extinct long ago.

He felt a bit like that himself.

All his life he had waited to have his name cleared.

Patrick, the only one in the U.S. who knew anything about his past, had urged him to contact a lawyer. Or perhaps even a detective, he said as he polished a gold-plated bridle. Patrick’s carousel was the best in New England. There were plenty of detectives in America. A lot of them were extremely good, said Patrick. Surely if that woman had come all the way from Europe to tell him that she believed he was innocent, after so many years, the long trip all the way from Norway, well, then it must be worth finding out more. Patrick knew that lawyers were expensive, but it would be easy enough to find someone who would only take payment if they won the case.

The problem was that Aksel had no case.

At least, not here in the U.S.

He had no case, but still he had always been waiting. In quiet resignation, he had never given up the hope that someone would discover the injustice that had been done. This never came to more than a silent prayer at bedtime that tomorrow would bring good news. That someone would believe him. Someone other than Eva and Patrick.

Johanne Vik’s visit was important.

For the first time in all the years he’d been away, he considered going home.

He still thought of Norway as home. His whole life was in Harwich Port. His house, his neighbors, the few people he could call friends. Everything he owned was there, in a small town on Cape Cod. But Norway had always been home.

If Eva had asked him to stay, way back then when he left, he would perhaps never have boarded the MS Sandefjord. If she’d asked him to come back later, during the first years in the States, he would have jumped on the first boat. He would have gotten temporary jobs in Norway and lived frugally. Moved to a new town, where it would be possible to keep a job for a year or two before the story caught up with him and he had to move on. If Eva was with him, he could have gone anywhere. But he only had himself to offer, and Eva was not strong enough. Aksel’s shame was too great. Not for him, but for her. She knew he was innocent. She never seemed to doubt that. But she couldn’t cope with other people’s judgement. Friends and neighbors nudged and whispered, and her mother made everything worse. Eva bent her head and let herself be cowed. Aksel would have managed to stand strong with Eva, but Eva was too weak to cope with a life with him.

Later, when she was free, it was too late for them both.

Now, perhaps, the time was right. His life had taken a turn in an unexpected direction and there was someone who needed him at home. Eva hadn’t exactly asked him to come in the letter she sent, out of character and out of the blue. She was desperate.

Aksel had Johanne Vik’s business card. If he went, he could contact her. Patrick was right; the woman had come all the way from Norway to talk to him, so she must really be convinced of his innocence. His dream of being cleared might finally come true. The thought frightened him and he got up stiffly and rubbed his back.

The real estate agent had said a million dollars. That was some time ago. Cape Cod was at its prettiest now. As any potential buyer was hardly likely to be interested in the house, cleaning and maintenance were not that important.

Aksel Seier turned over a horseshoe crab with the tip of his boot. It lay there, like a deserted German helmet from World War I. He picked the crab up by the tail and threw it into the water. Even though he never decided to do something without thinking it through in detail first, he realized that he was well on the way to making an important decision. He wondered if it would be possible to take the cat with him.