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‘Oh…wait, I’ll give you a hand…’ Aksel had lifted the large wooden box alone, hardly seeming to notice its weight.
‘That’s all right. If you’ll just stand aside.’
She could do that. Flora jumped out of his way, noticing the flex of muscle beneath his shirt as he manoeuvred the box through the doorway. She followed him as he carried it downstairs, swallowing down the lump in her throat. Aksel’s strong frame was impressive when he was at rest, but in action it was stunning.
‘Over there, maybe…?’ He was standing in the centre of the sitting room, looking around with a perplexed look on his face. Flora shifted one of the chairs that stood around the fireside, and he finally put the box down, one hand rubbing his shoulder as he straightened up.
‘Is your shoulder all right?’ He raised an eyebrow, and Flora felt herself redden. Okay, so she’d been looking at his shoulders. ‘Professional interest. I’m a physiotherapist, remember?’
‘It’s fine. It was just a little stiff this morning.’
His tone told Flora to leave it, so she did. ‘Maybe we could move one of the lights so that when Mette opens the box she can see inside better.’
Suddenly Aksel grinned. ‘Kari…’
The dog raised her head, moving from relaxed fireside mode to work mode immediately. In response to a command in Norwegian, she trotted over to the box and inserted her paw into a semi-circular hole cut into the side, under the lid. Flora heard a click and the lid swung open smoothly, its motion clearly controlled by a counterbalance mechanism.
The ease of opening was just the beginning. As the box opened, light flooded the inside of the box, and Flora could see that there were small LEDs around the edge, shaded at the top so that they would shine downwards and not dazzle Mette. The contents were carefully arranged in plastic baskets, so that she would be able to find whatever she wanted.
‘That’s fantastic! Wherever did you get this?’
‘I made it. There was nothing on the market that quite suited Mette’s needs.’ Aksel was clearly pleased with Flora’s approval.
She knelt down beside the box, inspecting it carefully. The lid opened easily enough for a child…or a dog…to lift it and the counterbalance mechanism meant that once open there was no danger of it slamming shut on small fingers. The lights came on when the lid opened and flicked off again as it closed, and they illuminated the contents of the box in a soft, clear light.
And the box itself was a masterpiece, made of wooden panels that were smooth and warm to the touch. It was quite plain but that was part of its beauty. The timber had obviously been carefully chosen and its swirling grain made this piece one of a kind.
‘Mette must love it.’ It was a gift that only a loving and thoughtful father could have made. And someone who was a skilled craftsman as well.
He nodded, looking around the room restlessly as if searching for the next thing that needed to be done. Aksel’s response to any problem was to act on it, and he was obviously struggling with the things he could do nothing about. No wonder he was carrying some tension in his shoulders.
‘We could go and do some shopping, if you wanted. It won’t take long to pick out a few things to brighten Mette’s bedroom up.’
‘Would you mind…?’ He was halfway towards the door, obviously ready to turn thought into action as soon as possible, and then stopped himself. ‘Perhaps another time. Whenever it’s convenient for you.’
Flora allowed herself a smile. ‘Now’s fine. I’ll go and get my coat.’
Aksel had been struggling to get the fantasy out of his head ever since he’d opened his eyes this morning. Rumpled sheets and Flora’s cheeks, flushed with sleep.
Yesterday had shown him how easy it would be to slip into loving intimacy with Flora, but her reaction had told him that she didn’t want that any more than he did. The word impossible usually made his blood fire in his veins at the thought of proving that nothing was impossible, and it had taken Flora’s look of quiet certainty to convince him that there was something in this world that truly was impossible.
He could deal with that. If he just concentrated on having her as a friend, and forgot all about wanting her as a lover, then it would be easy. When she returned, wearing a dark green coat with a red scarf, and holding Dougal’s dog coat and lead, he ignored the way that the cottage seemed suddenly full of light and warmth again.
‘Why don’t you leave him here? They’ll be fine together.’ The puppy was curled up in front of the fire with Kari, and didn’t seem disposed to move.
‘You think so?’ Flora tickled Dougal’s head and he squirmed sleepily, snuggling against Kari. ‘Yes. I guess they will.’
She drove in much the same way as she held a conversation. Quick and decisive, her eyes fixed firmly on where she was going. Aksel guessed that Flora wasn’t much used to watching the world go by, she wanted always to be moving, and he wondered whether she ever took some time out to just sit and feel the world turn beneath her. He guessed not.
For a woman that he’d just decided not to be too involved with, he was noticing a great deal about her. Flora wasn’t content with the just-crawled-out-of-bed look for a Sunday morning. She’d brushed her hair until it shone and wore a little make-up. More probably than was apparent, it was skilfully applied to make the most of her natural beauty. She wore high-heeled boots with her skinny jeans, and when she moved Aksel caught the scent of something he couldn’t place. Clean, with a hint of flowers and slightly musky, it curled around him, beckoning his body to respond.
‘So… Mette’s never lived with you before?’ She asked the question when they’d got out of the winding country lanes and onto the main road.
‘No.’ Aksel couldn’t think of anything to say to describe a situation that was complicated, to say the least.
‘Sorry…’ She flipped her gaze to him for a moment, and Aksel almost shivered in its warmth. ‘I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘It’s all right. It’s no secret. Just a little difficult to explain.’
‘Ah. I’ll leave it there, then.’
Flora lapsed into silence. ‘Difficult to explain’ didn’t appear to daunt her, she seemed the kind of person who could accept almost anything. He imagined that her patients must find it very easy to confide in her. All their hopes and their most secret despair. Suddenly, he wanted to talk.
‘I didn’t know that I had a daughter until after Mette’s mother died.’
Nothing registered in Flora’s face, but he saw her fingers grip the steering wheel a little tighter. Maybe she was wondering what kind of man hadn’t known about his own daughter. He wouldn’t blame her—he frequently tormented himself with that thought.
‘That must be…challenging.’
Her