Maybe Tonight Page 4

  “Farmor, you can’t sit here in the dark,” he said and switched on the pendulum lamp that hung over the table.

  “I like when the dusk comes,” she retorted and turned her face up for a kiss on the cheek. “Now, pour us both a glass of white wine and tell me the latest.”

  “We should eat too.” Mads checked the refrigerator. Sometimes his grandmother forgot about lunch or dinner, even when her home help assistant saw to it that there was a warm meal ready. Today though the house didn’t smell of the nursery-style food the assistant usually made–fish pies, mashed potatoes, boiled meat. Henrik must have come by–there were packs of hot-smoked salmon and fresh vegetables, pots of single cream and a new carton of milk.

  “Perhaps you’re right.” Alma set down her pen and removed her reading glasses. “I don’t remember if I ate lunch.”

  While Mads cooked, his grandmother went through the house, turning on the window lamps to chase away the autumn darkness. When she returned, she set the table for three.

  “It’s just us, farmor. I don’t think Henrik is coming by, is he?”

  “Henrik? Oh, no…no. Not today. I was thinking about your grandfather, my darling boy. For a moment, it felt like he was here with us.”

  Another Frank Sinatra tune filled the silence. His grandfather had always liked Old Blue Eyes. Mads could imagine him now, sitting beside his grandmother, patting her hand and smiling.

  “Maybe he is here with us,” he said as he brought a serving bowl full of pasta with salmon and cream sauce to the table. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out the bottle of Chardonnay he’d found there. He uncorked it and then poured a glass for his grandmother and one for himself. Then he glanced at the extra table setting . He poured a healthy measure in that glass as well. His grandmother laughed and patted the tabletop.

  As he served the pasta, he told her grandmother about Karin’s upcoming nuptials. He thought she would be surprised, but she simply nodded and tutted at all the right points.

  “I think it’s good she’s found someone who makes her happy,” Mads said. “I didn’t make her happy. I don’t think we made each other very happy.”

  “Neither of you were ready for marriage.” Alma tasted the sauce. “This is lovely, Mads. I always forget how well you cook.”

  “You taught me.”

  “I taught you how to make Danish food. But this is something completely different.”

  “You took good care of me, farmor.”

  “Your grandfather and I, we worried about you.” Alma let out a sigh. She touched her fingertips to her lips. Mads looked away. He didn’t want to see his grandmother cry. Lately she’d been crying a lot, remembering too much of the past.

  “We didn’t want to tell you not to marry Karin,” she continued, her voice soft as a whisper. “We knew it was too soon for you both, but we knew we couldn’t stop you. You were so determined.”

  “I know, farmor. Henrik…he tried to talk me out of it.”

  “We all wanted you to wait. We knew you weren’t happy in Stockholm. But we couldn’t…well, at least you both came to your senses.”

  Mads rubbed his chin and tried to think back to those days. When he was young enough to not give a damn about what anyone else thought. Had anything changed? He was still in limbo–sleeping with a woman who was involved with someone else and not caring what anyone thought. The only difference was now he knew he was in love. And he was pretty sure she felt the same.

  “Where is your pretty American?”

  “She’s at home.” He hadn’t told his grandmother about the reality of his situation with Laney. He didn’t want to give her anything else to worry about. She already worried too much about him. “She’ll be back in Copenhagen soon.”

  “I like her, but she seems so sad.”

  “She’s not sad, farmor.”

  “You boys never learn how to read women, do you? Your grandfather was the same.”

  “Things are complicated, farmor. That’s all.”

  “When she leaves her husband, it will be less so.”

  “She’s not married.”

  “No, well then she is just as good as married. I heard her that time, Mads, my dear. I am old, but I can still put two and two together.” His grandmother took a dainty sip of her wine. “She is trying to sort things out, isn’t she?”

  He nodded. “I just never thought I’d be in a situation like this.”

  “No, well, we never do. Your grandfather was engaged to be married when we met. He left his fiancée for me.”

  “You never told me that!” Mads grinned, imagining a younger version of Alma, charming his shy grandfather. “Naughty Alma.”

  His grandmother laughed and covered her mouth again. “It was love at first sight. I believe in it. I believed in it then too. And I know you do as well. You are a romantic, Mads. You always have been.”

  “Is there any cure?” he joked. Outside, the rain continued to fall, pelting the window and blurring the darkening sky.

  “No, but you see…it’s the sort of illness you never want cured. To love someone so completely, to want only them and to know they feel the same…no one can ever replace your grandfather for me.” Alma’s eyes crinkled as she smiled at Mads. She reached across the table and patted his hand. “And you never felt that way about Karin. But I think you do now for your American girl.”

  Mads stared down at the tabletop and let the warmth of his grandmother’s hand soothe away his doubts and fears.

  “Sometimes it scares me, how much I care for her.”

  “Love is supposed to be scary. That intensity? That’s the fire of it, that’s when you know it’s real.”

  10

  AN OPPORTUNITY

  “When were you going to tell me about your girlfriend?”

  Henrik and Mads were waiting for Adam to return with their beers. It was Friday night, and Mikkeller & Friends was crowded with the usual locals and some tourists. Mads ducked his head and pretended not to hear Henrik. He wasn’t in the mood for another grilling over Laney. Everyone knew now. Everyone had an opinion. Sometimes he wished he could turn back time to that moment when he and Laney first met–before anyone knew–when the intensity between them was so strong, so intimate and it was theirs alone.

  Of course Henrik wanted to know. Now that Adam had brought Laney into the conversation, there was no way Mads could avoid talking about her. It wasn’t as though she was a secret. He just wanted to wait until she was finally here in Copenhagen before he started telling everyone about her.

  But Henrik ignored Mads’s silence. “I know farmor met her—she told me all about it. So spill the beans. Can’t believe you haven’t told me before now.”

  “You were in Singapore.” It was a weak excuse, he knew, but Mads thought it would suffice.

  “Bullshit. You told me everything else, even about that wacky couple who propositioned you. So out with it! I hear she’s American and she’s leaving her husband for you.”

  “She’s not married. They were living together, and yeah, she’s moving here next week for work.”

  “And you.”

  “And me…yeah.” Mads couldn’t help smiling. Sometimes it didn’t feel real, that she was there, that they were finally together.

  “Fucking hell, you’re blushing! Unbelievable. So how long has this been going on?”

  “A couple of months.”

  “And you didn’t spill the beans to me and I’ve been moaning all the time about these crazy women I keep meeting.”

  “Your stories were amusing.”

  “What stories?” Adam asked as he plonked the glasses down on the table. He climbed onto the bench beside Henrik and stretched out his long legs. “Damn, it’s crowded tonight. What did I miss?”

  “I was trying to get my cousin to open up about his woman.”

  “She’s nice,” Adam volunteered. “I like her.”

  “You’ve met her already?”

  “She came to a party at our place.”

&
nbsp; “Don’t mention that party…” Mads grimaced. He hated thinking about how Trine had behaved towards Laney. Whenever he thought about it, he was reminded of the panic he’d felt when he’d searched the crowded apartment for her, and then one of the Bunheads had tittered, “Your girlfriend left in a huff…” like it was a joke.

  “Why? I liked meeting Laney, even if Trine was being a bit…mean about it.”

  “Mean is an understatement.” Mads tapped the tabletop with his thumb. He didn’t even want to revisit that night. Fuck…he thought he was going to lose her then over Trine’s viciousness. “Trine had no right…”

  “Totally with you there, Mads,” Adam said and gulped down some beer. “She knows she was out of line.”

  “So…what’s next? When do I get to meet her?” Henrik leaned forward, his elbows pressed into the tabletop as he raised his eyebrows raised and grinned at Mads.

  “Soon,” Mads said. “Just…soon.”

  * * *

  The last person he expected to show up in his workshop was Anoushka. She was alone this time and was examining a dining table Mads had made as a one-off project. He wiped his sawdust-covered hands on the legs of his pants and nodded hello at her.

  She rushed forward and kissed both of his cheeks. “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here.”

  Mads shrugged. “Well, either you need some new cabinetry…or something else. And for that…you’d need to contact the clinic.”

  “No, no. Nothing like that.” Anoushka laughed nervously and fidgeted with the bracelets jangling around her wrists. “I remembered you were a furniture maker, and I thought…maybe you’d want to help us with some things for Lida’s bedroom. I spoke to my husband about it…and he thought it was a good idea.”

  Lida… he’d been trying not think too much about her. The little girl who looked so much like him. He swallowed hard and nodded. “How is she?”

  “She’s wonderful,” Anoushka said and then looked around. “Should we sit? Maybe this will take a while?”

  Mads nodded absently and gestured at the set of chairs one he’d designed when he was still a student. They were wide armchairs honed from cypress wood with thick, vegetable-tanned saddle leather upholstery and most customers gravitated toward them.

  “Do you want something to drink? I could fix some coffee?”

  “No, I’m fine. I just…I thought this would be something beautiful you could do for Lida, since we can’t really introduce you to her yet.”

  “You want to introduce her to me?”

  “Of course! She should know how you helped her become our daughter. My husband and I always felt that way. We told Ida from the start. Didn’t she tell you?”

  “No, I guess she thought it would be weird or a contract violation. I’m not really supposed to have any contact at all with former clients.”

  “Mads, how will the clinic ever know? And why would they care? We’re asking you to design something beautiful for our daughter, not for a secret donation.”

  “No, yeah…you’re right.”Ever since that afternoon when he’d bumped into them, he’d been thinking about Lida even when he tried not to. She’d creep into his mind, filling little corners with images of her sleeping face, her burnished curls and smattering of freckles.

  He stared down at his clasped hands. He thought about the desk he’d designed for Laney and how much she loved it. Every night she sat at that desk while she worked. Sometimes he caught her tracing his message to her with her fingertips. What if he could create something like that for Lida? Something she’d grow up with that she’d know was something he’d created just for her?

  “I’ve got some ideas,” he said. “Tell me what you think you need.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  He nodded and raked his hair back. “I will. It would be an honor.”

  11

  TELL HER

  “Who’s Anoushka…and who’s Lida?”

  Mads blinked and looked up. Laney was standing at the mouth to his section of the workshop. She was shivering. Where was her coat? Had she cycled over without it?

  Mads rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. He’d been trying to think of a good way to broach the subject of Anoushka and her request, of Lida and that unplanned meeting without setting Laney into flight mode. The last thing he wanted was for her to get spooked by the messiness of his life and his past decisions. But he’d put it off for weeks. Not knowing how to explain why he was spending so much time on this project when he had so many others to deal with.

  “Mads? Who are Anoushka and Lida?” Her voice shook. “What’s going on?” She held up his phone. “You forgot it in the kitchen. And she called.”

  “Laney…”

  “I’m trying to stay calm, Mads. I’m trying not to jump to conclusions.” But her eyes were wide with confusion and she was so tense. He could feel it without even touching her.

  “Anoushka is a former client…from the clinic.” He braced his hands on the edge of the workbench.

  “And who is Lida? Please don’t tell me she’s trying to convince you to go active again.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. She… fanden. Lida…she’s my daughter.”

  “Your daughter?” Laney’s hand fluttered to her own belly. She glanced down at his phone and then set it on the table. “It never ends, does it…?”

  “No, elskede, it’s not like that…” He stepped around the table and gathered her in his arms. She was crying. No, he didn’t want to make her cry, didn’t want his screw-up life being the cause of any problems for her.

  He steered her to the anteroom that was his storage area/office/place to get away. Anton’s new project was there–a bench he wanted to put in the garden. Mads made Laney sit down, then he crouched before her and told her everything.

  “I bumped into her on the same day you and I met. She was out walking with Lida, and Lida was asleep in her stroller.” He laced his fingers with Laney’s. He loved her hands, loved the perfect moons of her nails and the tiny mole between her thumb and index finger on her left hand.

  “And then she showed up here last week, and she asked me to create something for Lida. I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to say no.”

  Laney chewed on her lower lip and nodded slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I thought you’d freak out over it.”

  “Mads…honey…please, don’t hide things from me. Just tell me. Trust me.”

  “Okay…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept it to myself.”

  “We’re together now. We’re partners, right?”

  “Of course. It’s just you and me.”

  “Then don’t hide what’s going on from me.” She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Especially not now…”

  “No, you’re right. No more secrets.”

  “Good…now show me what you’re making for her.” Her voice was lighter, calmer now. Her touch like feathers on his skin. “And then we can talk about what you’ll make for our daughter.”

  He grinned at her. “I’ve got lots of ideas.”

  “Good, because I’m sure she’ll be as picky as her mom.”

  “Her mom has good taste.”

  “I love you, Mads…” and she kissed him again, grazing her lips over his, brushing the tip of her nose with his and filling him with a sense of joy, that this was love, this was what it meant to be loved.

  * * *

  Pregnancy suited Laney. Even with the frequent bouts of morning sickness, even though she still barely looked pregnant, Mads was convinced she’d become more radiant, more beautiful. Sometimes, when they were in the apartment and everything was quiet, he’d imagine he could hear their baby’s heartbeat loud and clear and reminding them that soon she’d be with them too.

  She was five months along. They were halfway there and he still found it incredible that soon he would really be a father. Not just a donor. Not the purveyor of someone else’s happiness.

  But just that night, as Laney
lay on the sofa reading the latest issue of Vanity Fair while he made dinner for them, he felt as though no one could be happier than he was.

  He watched her as she turned the page, as one hand cupped the tiny mound that their daughter inside her, and his heart swelled and soared.

  “Laney?”

  She lowered her magazine and smiled up at him. “Is it time?”

  “I want to marry you, I want us…to get married.”

  The magazine fell from her hand as she sat up. “Are you serious?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She tried to look steady but he saw how her hands trembled.

  He crossed the room and sat down beside her on the sofa. She turned towards him. Her smile wavered. “You’re really serious?”

  He nodded. “I don’t want anyone else. Just you. And I want to marry you.”

  “I want to marry you too.”

  “So say yes.”

  “Yes…ja…” She touched his cheek. He cupped her hand and brought it to his lips, pressed tiny kisses to her palm. “Jeg ønsker at være din kone.“*

  “Og jeg vil gerne være din mand.“**

  They kissed again as outside snow began to fall. From somewhere in the building Kashmir sang of electrified love and Mads felt like nothing could make him feel more complete. Nothing in the world could mean more to him than the woman in his arms and the family they would have together.

  *Translation: “I want to be your wife.”

  ** Translation: “And I want to be your husband.”

  12

  FATHER

  “Do you ever speak to your father?” Laney asked as they walked, hand in hand, along the gravel path to the beach. It was one of those winter days when the sky felt vast and brilliantly blue and crisp with ice crystals.

  Mads shook his head no. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his father and his memories of him were always too blurry. “He calls my grandmother sometimes, but he never reaches out to me.”

  “Do you know where he is?” They stopped now and took in the view. Øresund was frozen over for the first time in years and the snow-dusted beach looked like a sugary confection just waiting to be devoured.