suggestions and mentions the reflection of the woman behind him and her sudden disappearance, Maren falls silent. She has heard of water trolls in Norway, usually referred to as nøkken. They were called nymphs in other parts of the world, nix, or water sprites—malicious and mischievous beings from another world, though they had been known to help and even save humans. When she was a child in Finnmark people talked about them as though they were as real as the family dog. Her father always left some of his catch at the shoreline for the nøkken, to ensure a plentiful haul next time. She never saw any, but she didn’t question their existence, though she hasn’t thought about them for years.
Tom loathes himself for not yet having found a rational explanation for the water’s grip on his hand or the presence of the woman. He’s tried to tell himself that the reflection was a tree, or a cloud, though he can’t deny what he saw, if only for a split second. It’s as though that image is branded now on his memory—a dark figure right there in the woods with him. As for the river, he’s already sent an awkward e-mail to a professor in environmental science at Cambridge, asking in a roundabout way if it would be possible for a river to seize and hold an object.
He admits this to Maren.
“And what did he say?”
“The reply was . . . unsatisfactory.”
She nods. “My father used to tell me tales of the Sami who lived in our village before we did. They knew that Mother Nature was our ruler, and that we had to be careful not to abuse our privileges.”
Tom scowls. “Privileges?”
“The nøkken act on behalf of Mother Nature. They punish humans who overstep the mark. They might make shallow pools deepen and drown people who abuse nature. I’ve heard of crops that turned poisonous when the earth was not given proper stewardship.”
Tom looks away, angered by Maren’s tangent into Norse folklore, of all things. There has to be a logical, scientific basis for what happened. He tells himself it was likely due to a combination of the cold, hunger, fatigue, and poor light. His muscles contracted after all that heavy lifting. He gets up to leave.
“What did she look like?” Maren asks. “The woman you saw.”
“Oh, I don’t think I saw anyone. Just the light playing tricks.”
She doesn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure? Because—”
“Thank you, Maren,” he says, rising and striding toward the door.
“Perhaps you’ll rethink your plans to divert the river?” Maren offers, but he doesn’t answer. As he reaches for the door handle his wrist tingles as though to remind him of the water’s grasp, cold and insistent as an iron cuff.
9
is there something you’re not telling me?
NOW
And lo, it came to pass that “Daddy and Daughters Day” finally arrived, and lo, there was much rejoicing in the land.
Tom was going to take the girls, Maren had announced the night before, and I had fantasized about how I was going to indulge in those blissful twenty-four hours.
I would sleep until the bed and I became one entity.
I would bask in the luxury of eating without a small angry human flinging pasta at me. No one would climb into my bed in the middle of the night and pee in it—what bliss!
But above all, I would write.
My book—now titled A House in the Woods, featuring a creepy red house just outside Oslo where Alexa is held hostage—hadn’t increased in word count since I arrived in Norway. I’d attempted to chip away at it during the evenings, but it turns out that caring for children all day long mulches your brain. I spent one memorable evening repeatedly misspelling the word if, and when I’d eventually squeezed out a whole chapter my laptop crashed, and the entire effort was digested by my hard drive, gone forevermore. I was put off even attempting to write for a few weeks. But now, today, I would make real, actual progress on my book. I would brainstorm and plan out the chapters, with deadlines and milestones to ensure I kept on track. After all, the first month had gone in a blink. The trees were starting to redden, the cliffs above the fjord a shimmering collar of ruby and gold. The temperature had dropped. If I wasn’t careful I’d wind up finishing my time here without a book to show for it.
Finally, Tom took the girls out. There was a lurching moment where