“It’s funny how we always wish for the opposite of what we have.”
“What are you wishing for right now?” I asked, leaning in to pull the rope swing to me.
She said nothing as our faces grew closer. Her blue eyes were wide as they flickered between my eyes and the rest of my face. I could tell she was still trying to figure me out just as much as I was trying to figure her out. I let go of the swing, sending her flying backward higher than she had been before. The tension between us snapped, and she giggled. The sound brought a smile to my face.
It had been a long time since I felt this way. There was a certain kind of peace and ease in the house with Agotia here. Even on the swing from my childhood, she exuded grace and elegance, unlike anyone I have ever seen. The way she was able to read my thoughts and give me an understanding I didn't even realize I was missing was like
the first breath in Norway off the plane after a year in New York City. It was fresh and revitalizing; I never wanted to leave.
"I wish to see the rest of the lodge," she answered, slowing the swing to a stop.
I smiled at her, loving how her hair was now windswept, matching her carefree personality. I offered a hand to help her up, relishing the way her tiny fingers tucked into my palm as she pulled herself up. Once again, we were closer than we ought to have been, and when she didn't immediately let go of my hand, well-being spread through me. It was unfamiliar and intimidating, but I loved running toward a challenge.
We walked through the lodge, room by room. I pointed out the details in the door hinges, at least one hundred years old, and the marks on the walls where I ran into them with a toy as a kid. She took it all in with wide eyes and a warm smile. I told her stories about growing up here and the kind of man, my grandfather had been. I loved reliving each of those memories more than I thought I would have. So many details had become hazy as they sat out of focus for years.
When I was here, there was no one to tell my stories to - Asta had been there for all of them. My family didn't understand the sentimentality I had developed towards this place and had no interest in hearing the same stories for decades. And everyone else couldn't picture what I was describing to them and couldn't appreciate the beauty of it all. But, as in many things, Agotia was different. She clung to my every word as if it was some missing puzzle piece that helped create the picture of who I was. Maybe it did, I needed clarification. But I did know that I never wanted tonight to end.
“What’s in here?” she asked, opening the door before I had time to stop her.
“That’s my grandfather’s office,” I told her, leaning against the doorway. “I have not been in here in over a decade.”
She stopped in her tracks, suddenly aware of the chord of grief she had just hit.
“I’m so sorry. We can go somewhere else. I didn’t mean to pry. I shouldn’t have just walked in here like that. I got so caught up in the tour that I didn’t stop to think that this might be a private space. And it is. Gosh. I’m sorry.”
The words poured out of her as if I had turned on a faucet. Each sentence made my smile grow wider and wider as I crossed the room to stand in front of her. I placed a gentle hand on the side of her cheek to get her to slow down. My touch stopped her entirely.
"It's okay. You don't have to apologize," I reassured. "It was time I looked in here anyways. We've been renovating throughout the lodge to bring it into this decade, and I would have had to open the door eventually. I'm glad I can do it now with a friend."
“Is that what we are now? Friends?” she asked, her eyes searching mine.
“I’d like to think so,” I told her honestly.
“I would like that.”
She smiled at me, not for the first time tonight; I was stunned and speechless for a moment.
“There’s a lot of history in this room,” I said after another heartbeat, breaking the silence.
“Oh?”
"My grandfather built the family company into the huge success it is today from this room. As soon as the business was stable enough to be managed from a distance, he moved back, knowing how much my grandmother missed her home. Beyond that, he was a history buff with the wealth to collect rare artifacts. I'm sure they are around here somewhere."
"I'd love to see them. With a family business to run, I understand the importance of success. It's more than just making money or paying the bills. It's about continuing in the family legacy, wanting to leave a generational heritage behind for your children."
As she spoke, she moved out of my touch and wandered over to the bookshelf. It was spotless, kept in the same pristine condition as when my grandfather had been alive. That was evidence of Asta’s presence here. I doubted the house would run at all without her here. I took a mental note to give her a raise. While she claimed to be content, there was no telling the last time she had been given what she was worth, and I wanted to remedy that.
“These must be worth thousands of dollars,” Agotia whispered as she ran her hand over the gilded bindings of the books.
“My grandfather loved to read. It’s a hobby I wish I did more of.”
“Gosh, me too. When I was in college, I read all the time. Now it seems like I never have the time or energy to.”
“What keeps you so busy?” I asked, wanting to know more about her life.
It was not lost on me that I had never asked Bridget so many questions. I assumed her world revolved around shopping and taking pictures for social media. The few times we did go out for dinner and talked, she never had much to say about anything. Again, Asta might have been right; she was just the wrong woman.
“Blossom.”
