A Burden Shared

Posted on Fri May 24th, 2024 @ 5:57am by Solveig Kallestad & Dr. Winston Sinclair

5,934 words; about a 30 minute read

Mission: Summer's Fading Light
Location: Groundskeeper Cottage
Timeline: Friday, 8/19/2016

ON

Solveig hadn’t slept well the previous evening, but that was really no surprise. Few people slept well in a new place, especially when it was where their whole life was going to change for better or worse. She’d tossed and turned for hours and eventually dozed off at an undetermined time only to wake up before the sun rose. It was then she had given up and gotten dressed in jeans and a shirt and wandered outside to watch the sunrise over the landscape. Now that she was actually here, she couldn’t deny she had mixed feelings about it; she almost felt like she didn’t deserve it; this place was nice and was far grander than anything she had ever had in life. While it wasn’t hers, it still felt like too much. Her sensitive blue eyes took in all the beauty of the colors in the sky and reflected on the rocks surrounding the school. She missed her mother; she even missed her sister.

She remained there quite a while, sitting on a rock herself away from the main campus and the people there as she didn’t want to be found or disturbed. It was only when the colors finally began to fade into a clear and uninterrupted blue that she finally uncoiled from the position she had been in with her arms wrapped around her legs and took the walk back to her little house to feed Hati and prepare for her day. She wasn’t sure what that meant yet, but she was going to get ready anyway.

Dr. Sinclair was an early riser, and had been since he attended Eton as a boy. Between that famous boys school, seminary, the Army, university, and the myriad other things he’d done after that time, rising after the sun never seemed quite right to him. So he met God in the morning as he always did, went down to grab a mug of coffee, and then decided to forgo breakfast and take a nice morning stroll instead. He made his way from the Faculty House to the Courtyard in between the buildings on the estate. Walking past the pool, he lingered by the large fountain, watching the water move coolly and peacefully as he sipped his morning brew.

After he had wandered for nearly half an hour saying his morning rosary, he started down the little path to the gardens where the Groundskeeper’s house was. He knew that Jon Henry had arrived with their newest staff member the evening before, but he hadn’t gone down to disturb her, instead giving her some time to settle in. He wore a light brown suit with a pale pink button-up, but had forgone the tie for now.

As he closed in on the house, he noticed movement on the path ahead of him. Curious, he slowed his pace.

“Good morning, Solveig. Is that you?”

“Good morning, Dr. Sinclair.” Solveig greeted with a smile though looked away from him and after her cat who was wandering outside under her watchful eye. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

“That it is.” Winston said, finally closing the distance to a place in the path where he could see her. He drew near the house, but stopped a polite distance away. “I don’t imagine you’ve seen any place like Sedona before, have you? Absolutely breathtaking and unique. Truly, ours is a wonderful country. Well…the landscape, anyway.”

He sipped his coffee, watching her as she watched her cat.

“No, sir. I haven’t.” She replied, just as respectful as she had been when he had come to see her nearly a month ago. Hati returned with a meow of greeting and rubbed up against Winston’s leg before she hopped up into one of the windows and laid down to enjoy the sun.

“Would you like to come in?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, that would be lovely. Or maybe we can chat out here?” He was courteous and considerate, and didn’t seem to have any preference one way or another.

Solveig simply smiled and gestured toward the door then walked in with him over to the small living room area with its loveseat and comfortable chair. She took a spot on the loveseat and left the chair for him.

“Was there something you needed from me, sir?” She asked once he had sat down.

“Not particularly, I wanted to have a conversation with you and check in to see how your first night was.” he said, sitting down and taking a sip from his coffee. “I assume you’ve found everything you need around here? I know it's an unfamiliar place, and I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Most everything, yes, thank you.” She smiled and folded her hands in her lap. “Anything I don’t have I’m making a list and I’ll buy for myself in town. As for my first night, I never sleep well in new places, but it is beautiful here and I couldn’t possibly ask for more. I’ll be very comfortable.”

“I hope so.” Winston said, and his grin told her that was true. “You’ll report directly to the Executive Director, but he works for me. If ever you need anything, my door is always open. I don’t want anyone at Red Rock to feel like they have to solve their problems alone.”

“Your grandson told me I should try to interact with the Executive Director as little as possible.” She said, her brows lifting. Obviously the man was Winston’s son, so perhaps he had a different take.

“Did he now?” Winston asked, pursing his lips and seeming a bit saddened by the news more than surprised. “Did he happen to tell you why?”

“No. When he told me the man was his father, I didn’t ask anymore questions. That seemed way too personal and invasive; but I imagine he wouldn’t be saying that if there wasn’t some reason.” She replied softly and glanced out of the window.

Winston watched her and listened as she answered his question. He placed his mug down on the table and sighed quietly. This was a difficult subject to broach since he seemed to have lost control of his organization, at least for the moment. The Board had been so taken in by what Cornelius said that they made the choice to install him, even against his own recommendations. This was the reason why he tried to avoid entanglements with the government. They always took what they wanted from mutants when the time was right.

“Cornelius is my son, but you’ll find we’re very different. Much like me, he dedicated himself in service to his country, but unlike me, he never found a calling outside of it. He has spent several years using mutants for his own ends, and now he’s here on our campus.” Winston said, shaking his head. “I tried my best to stop it, but I couldn’t. The battle isn’t over though. We’re still a school and our mission stands firm.”

The stunning woman across from him was very quiet then, a frown on her elegant and youthful face. She had come here to get away from organizations and governments and to just live a quiet life more on her terms, and here Winston was sitting here telling her they now had one of those government men in their crisp suits here to run this school full of innocent children. That didn’t settle well with her at all.

“I see.” She finally said, quietly and slowly.

“The Executive Director handles financial matters and manages non-teaching staff, but he’s still an employee. I have a long history with my Board, and I hope this..misunderstanding will be resolved soon. I can assure you that nothing about the way this Academy runs is going to be changed by him. I am still in charge, and that isn’t even remotely in consideration to change.” Winston said with some conviction, and then he softened. “But I know it’s not what I promised you really, and for that I’m sorry. I just ask that you stick with us for a while and give us a chance. We have a long history of excellence in protecting our kind, and I won’t allow that to be destroyed.”

“Well, I sold nearly everything that I had and the program I was a part of released me from their oversight and care when I decided to come here and won’t take me back, I have no choice. I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Solveig was clearly upset by this turn of events, but was trying not to target it at Winston since he seemed genuinely disturbed by it all.

He nodded, his eyes on hers, sad and still.

“I know. It’s not an easy thing. But we will tackle it together.” he said, smiling a bit almost as a test for if she was willing to look at things from the bright side. “And don’t listen to Jon Henry too closely. He and my son have problems, but Cornelius is fine to deal with as long as he doesn’t want something from you that you aren’t interested in giving up. He is an experienced and fair manager, and I suspect you’ll get on just fine.”

She nodded. She hadn’t been exaggerating, she had no other choice than to try and make the best of things here. “I’ll do my best. I don’t want any trouble.”

It wasn’t necessarily optimistic, but she wasn’t going to make a fuss over the whole ordeal. That would accomplish absolutely nothing nor would it make her feel better.

He sighed and picked up his mug again, seeming happy she wasn’t jumping ship, but understanding she had limited options.

“Other than that, I wanted to talk to you about other things.” he said, taking a sip, and then looking at her evenly. “Did the doctors determine the cause of death for your mother?”

Her blue eyes moved over to him quickly and she was immediately on guard. She didn’t answer immediately and instead picked at a stray string of fabric near the stitching on the arm of the kiveseat. “An overdose.”

Her voice clearly communicated this wasn’t really a topic she wanted to be discussing, she preferred to leave it in its convenient little box in the back of her mind where she could ignore it.

“I see.” Dr. Sinclair said quietly. He could feel the underlying guilt and fear in his heart from her. “Did I tell you that my doctorate is in psychology? I was a trauma counselor for several years and, after that, I spent quite a long time as a clinical psychologist in the UK.”

“You did mention you were a clinical psychologist, yes.” She nodded, lifting her eyes back to his but she was unable to hold his gaze and continued to just pick at the string.

“I say that to make sure you understand I am more than qualified to help with any adjustment you understandably need to make after the death of your mother…after your sister’s abandonment.” he said. He looked at her with a calm and pleasant face. He didn’t reach into her mind or her feelings, but he didn’t shy away from bringing up topics she obviously preferred not to talk about. After all, there was nothing healthy at all about avoiding grief.

That statement did get her to look up and now she was outright scowling. Solveig was a kind and caring woman, but she wasn’t immune to anger or other negative emotions. “How the hell do you know about that?”

“You remembered it when you were trying to resuscitate your mother. I was with you then, which means I saw that memory too.” Winston said, turning his head to the side. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I forgot I never told you I saw it.”

“That’s extremely invasive.” She pointed out, her voice hard but not outright hostile. “The whole thing is.”

“I understand why you see it that way, and I can’t say that you’re wrong. I can promise I will never do it again without your permission.” he said, staying calm. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and he really did feel she had a right to be made upset by it. For him, it was a necessary process and had changed the course of her life, but it didn’t feel good having someone enter your darkest memories without permission. “And that is all I saw. The memory of the day she left.”

It was clear by the way she was eyeing him that she was having a hard time believing what he had said about those two things being the only thing he had seen. Now she was just feeling trapped and seriously questioning her own judgment. She thought she had made this decision with a clear head, but perhaps she had just been desperate.

Or perhaps it had never been her choice at all.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She scoffed and looked away.

“I hope that you’ll be able to believe me. I’m not a perfect man, but I am no liar.” He said, unphased by her scoffing. “I would like to help you through this time, but I won’t force help on you. If you want me to go, I will leave without hesitation.”

“Well, it isn’t like I would know you did it if you didn’t tell me, apparently.” Solveig practically grumbled and finally ripped the offending string off of the love seat. “How exactly do you feel you can help me?”

“Well, on a basic professional level, I understand that unresolved trauma can very negatively affect a person’s wellbeing. For a person like you who has been experimented on, controlled, and marginalized all your life, that is a particularly important process.” He answered. “When it comes to my ability set, I am one of the only people on earth who truly can know exactly how you feel and why. You should confess and unburden yourself.”

“Well what good would that do? It doesn’t change anything that happened.” Her expression softened, and she looked genuinely confused by the notion that he was proposing. “It just brings everything back up and I guess you’d feel it too and that just seems completely pointless other than to make everyone sad.”

“You’re already sad, Solveig. Are you not?” He asked gently. Patiently.

“I-“ She started to protest and then stopped, frowning and thinking. “Not all of the time. I try not to dwell on things and just move forward.”

“Would you say you’re afraid of having a conversation that might deepen your understanding of yourself?” He asked then, looking at her curiously and watching her with amiable closeness.

“I just don’t see how it would do anything good.” She said honestly, quiet and frowning. She wasn’t being hostile toward him, but she genuinely seemed confused by the entire notion of what he was proposing and was becoming more anxious as she sat there.

“So the thought doesn’t worry you then?” He asked, reiterating the question kindly.

“I guess?” She replied, unsure and with the frown still on her beautiful face. “I don’t even know what you’re trying to get me to do.”

“It’s very simple, Solveig. All that would happen is that I would ask you questions, and you would answer them to the best of your ability. No fuss or complexity is necessary. And if there’s something you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to.”

Solveig looked at him for a moment, obviously skeptical about that last statement. “And you’re going to be in my head while I do this?”

“No no. There’s no need for all that. Conventional talk will do just fine.” He said, then drained the coffee from his mug and sat it down on the table.

She still didn’t like the sound of any of what he was saying, but there was something about Winston that put her at ease - to a point. He seemed gentle and trustworthy, that he harbored no ill intent behind his easy smile. She’d known people like that before of course who eventually turned out to be manipulative and evil, but she still had to hope not all people were like that and that there were those who truly just wanted to help.

“Alright… I’ll try.” She paused and looked at his empty mug. “Do you want some water?”

“No thank you, I’m fine. You’re too kind.” Winston responded with a smile. He was glad she was being brave enough to give it a try. He gently pulled at the part of her mind associated with satisfaction, and found that it raised very easily. She was a nice person, after all, and her desires seemed to be simple. “One more thing though.”

“Yes?” She prompted, feeling a little more at ease but still nervous given the unknown she was facing.

“My secondary power has to do with a psychic ability to introduce feelings or thoughts into one’s mind. Oftentimes I can control it, but it is about as easy to avoid doing as not smiling at someone who is having a bad day.”Winston reported. “I wanted to let you know that this is a possibility and to know how comfortable you might be with it happening.”

For a moment, she thought quietly about what he had said and her feelings toward it. “I will be honest and tell you that something happening to me that I can’t control doesn’t instill a lot of comfort, but I understand what you mean in that it is more instinct for you than conscious action. I won’t hold that against you, and thank you for letting me know beforehand…” she hesitated, “when might that happen, exactly, or what? Do you.. Have an example or something?”

Winston lifted his eyebrows at the question, surprised by it for a moment. At first, he tried to think of an example, but then he decided it was easier to show her than to try to explain with words. Without visible effort, he spoke a simple question into her mind.

Did I leave the oven on?

“Oh could you excuse me for just a second?” She asked, distracted, and stood to start walking to the kitchen area to check the oven. She got about halfway there and then suddenly stopped; she hadn’t even been in the kitchen in this place yet. Turning around, she looked at Winston with bewilderment and mild concern while wandering back to resume her seat.

“I see.”

“Right.” Winston said, smiling and trying not to chuckle at the demonstration. “Some people find it disturbing, but that’s because they think that all their thoughts and feelings come from them alone. We’re connected, and I believe there are forces beyond our knowledge that introduce thoughts and feelings as well. That is a matter of religion, though, and I’m not in seminary anymore.” This time he did chuckle, but quickly settled. “It’s what you decide to do with a thought or a feeling that speaks volumes about who you are.”

Solveig listened, quiet and thoughtful. Then she pulled her legs up and sat crisscrossed, accentuating her youthfulness. “My sister was always better at doing things like that… she said it was because I had a weak will.” She lifted her shoulders, “Maybe she was right.”

“Do you believe she was right? That you have a weak will?” he asked curiously. She was very easy to look at, but Winston was old enough to be her grandfather, and had his roaming eyes too well in hand to glance down at her legs even for a second.

There was a strange little smile that appeared on her face. “Well, I’d like to think not, but apparently you were able to enter my mind and see my memories, and you were just able to convince me I’d maybe left my oven on when I know very well I haven’t even been in the kitchen since I arrived here. That probably doesn’t bode well for me.”

“Some might say you convinced you. After all, you were under the impression that the thought came from your own mind. And why would you wonder about turning a stove off, really, unless it was a possibility?” WInston asked rhetorically. “And I can see everyone’s memories, but only the ones associated with guilt, shame, or regret.”

“The stove is there, it would always be a possibility; but I wouldn’t have even thought of it if you hadn’t planted it there.” She pointed out gently.

“But you wouldn’t have known that, would you?” he asked again, his tone calm and curious. “Is your sister a particularly weak-willed person that she should accuse you of such a thing?”

“Oh no, not at all. Eisa was always very strong in that way; she could tell when she was being manipulated more often than not and resist it. She impressed…” Solveig had been speaking in a simple, conversational tone but then it hit her exactly what she was talking about and she sobered slightly, “she impressed the scientists that were working with us.”

A memory reached out to WInston, but he didn’t grab on. His curiosity was an often-ignored creature, as he didn’t reach out far more often than he did.

“Were they just as impressed with you?” he asked.

“No.” She said simply and looked away. “Anyways, we don’t have to talk about all of that. You had questions you wanted to ask?”

“Well, yes. But I have a feeling we’re closer to those questions than you might suspect. You clearly blame yourself for what happened to your mother, for the departing of your sister. I suppose I want to talk about that.” he said, and then sniffed as if his nose was running slightly.

Immediately she looked around and spotted a box of tissues which she stood to grab and put down by Winston after hearing his sniff. One couldn’t deny the woman was very kind and attentive, even to a relative stranger. “I… yeah I guess that’s true.”

She moved to sit back down and crossed her legs again.

“You’re very kind.” he said, a statement of fact as much as it was a compliment. “Thank you.”

He didn’t reach for the tissues, but did reach out and move them slightly closer to himself.

“So, do you feel responsible for your sister leaving?”

“In a way I guess.” Solveig sighed softly and grabbed one of the pillows to wrap her arms around. “Eisa just… never adjusted to life I guess is the best way to put it. I tried to help her, but maybe that just made it worse, I really don’t know.”

“Do you feel like you ‘adjusted to life’? He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She looked at him for a moment as if she were trying to decide if it was a serious question or if he was joking, but deciding it was genuine she nodded. “Yes.”

“What does it mean to adjust then? What was the difference between you two?” he asked, trying his best to calmly read whether or not she was being cagey.

“I accepted how our lives were going to be where we were and the limitations imposed on us in exchange for safety and security. I made a life and happiness where I could in what was given to me.” She explained gently, clearly being honest with him from what she believed to be true.

“And she didn’t.”WInston said, furrowing his brows as he thought. “Do you feel you made a mistake adjusting that way? Does it make you weak?”

“My sister thought it did. She didn’t think accepting the ‘scraps’ we were given was making a life and that I was foolish for doing so.” She shrugged slightly. “Sometimes I could see her point, I guess.”

“But what do you think?” He asked, not accepting the, perhaps unintentional, deflection.

Solveig considered the question for a moment. She was putting thought into what he was saying and seemed to be introspective instead of just spouting off whatever first popped into her head or what he might have wanted to hear.

“Maybe it was a bit of a mistake in the end and maybe if I had pressed we could have landed somewhere better, but probably not. I don’t think that I’m weak because of it though. I wanted to keep my mother safe and give her security. She… struggled.”

He nodded, his expression understanding and analytical. He was listening very intently.

“I see. Do you feel you are responsible for some of her suffering? For her death?”

“I do. I tried very hard to take care of her and be understanding of her, but her condition would make it difficult to do that sometimes and I would get frustrated. I think she felt like a burden despite my best efforts to show her and tell her that she wasn’t.” Solveig frowned. “Maybe it was a battle I was never going to win… but I don’t feel like I tried hard enough.”

“Those are very normal feelings, and so many people would feel the exact same way you do in your situation. But everyone gets frustrated, even with people they love. And at least you stayed and gave it a go. Your sister didn’t.” Winston said, and smiled. “You didn’t ask, but I think that makes you the strong one.”

“I…” Solveig frowned, squeezing the pillow a bit tighter and looking down at her arms. “I guess that’s true. I did at least try. Eisa did too for a while.”

“But you tried until the end.” He said in a gentle voice. “You’re a good person, and I believe in you. Don’t beat yourself up for trying to do the right thing.”

“I just wish things had been different. Honestly I’d trade existing if it would have meant my mother didn’t have to live through that nightmare.” She plucked at the corner of the pillow, sad and distracted. “We were her last kids but she had others. I don’t even know where they are or if they made it through.”

“That’s not your trade to make, really. You aren’t God, and you have no control over the government scientists who put you, your mother, and all of your siblings in this position.” Winston argued, his tone still measured and soothing.

“I know it isn’t,” Solveig lifted her eyes to him and gave a soft, sad smile, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t wish it were different.”

Winston listened to her, but didn’t respond right away. It was a curious bit of reasoning that allowed her to blame herself for the tragedy of her mother’s life and yet state she knew she had no power over those same challenges.

“You know it isn’t your fault. Of course you do, you’re a smart woman.”

“Then why does it feel like it is?” She asked, looking at him and seeming to genuinely be looking for some sort of explanation from him.

“Because being smart isn’t enough. You have to be wise.” He answered. “And the only way to do that is to know the truth, and to know yourself.”

“Well, I’m not wise. I’m only twenty-five and I’ve lived a very… limited life.” She shrugged slightly. “Frankly your students probably know better than I do which is why I wanted to limit my interactions with them.”

“Many of them have difficult pasts as well. You’ll interact with only a few whose lives were easy before they got here. I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you.” he responded.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter. We settled the contract and I’m happy with what I have taken on; I don’t want to confuse them when they are at a vulnerable stage in life.” She looked out of the window and to the lovely view it afforded.

“Jon told me that your last groundskeeper spent time beautifying the place with paths and benches. I was wondering if I have a budget for doing some things of my own?”

“You do, and the expense budget is settled every school year. I’m afraid I don’t remember the figure though.” he said, trying for a second to recall and immediately giving up. “But I’m sure we can work with you if it's a good idea for the Academy and it costs more than you’ve been allotted. We’ve recently come into a budget surplus, it seems.”

“I’d just-“ She hesitated and continued, “the pool and gathering areas here are nice, but they are so precise and man made. I thought it might be nice for the kids to have a place where it was more natural - maybe give those who aren’t used to the desert a taste of home. The problem is you don’t have any water around here, apparently outside of your pool.”

“We have the plumbing. Would that not work?” He asked, not sure exactly what her proposal would entail.

“It might, it would mostly be just about making the space in the ground for it. Also if it utilized the plumping there’d be the issue of a water bill, I imagine.” She stood then and walked over to the kitchen counter, picking up a black leather covered book that was sitting there. She opened it, flipped a few of the thick pages, and then walked back over to Winston and offered it to him. Drawn there in beautiful detail was the depiction of what seemed to be an oasis, the large pool was surrounded by lush vegetation not native to the desert but very beautiful, and one side of it had a massive banyan tree where qthe branches extended out over the water and every direction.

“I wanted to make them this.”

Winston took the notebook in his hands, and, as soon as his eyes rested on it, he pulled it even closer. The drawing was presented in exquisite detail, and was clear of the work of a practiced pen. He knew that she couldn’t have done it any time before yesterday. He looked at her and lifted the book slightly.

“I didn’t know you had such talent.”

Her eyes went down and she demurred slightly. “Ah, well… it helps me remember what things look like, so I’ve practiced since I was very little.” She said and played with her fingers nervously. “If you think it wouldn’t work though that’s okay.”

“No no, I think it’s wonderful.” Winston said with a smile. “Where were you thinking it should go?”

“I’m not sure exactly - not too far for safety reasons, but I’d like somewhere where they feel like they are getting away, if that makes sense?” She asked and tilted her head slightly.

“It does.” He responded. How much water do you need? I’m sure we could find a way to make it happen without it costing too much. The budget surplus is…substantial.”

“Maybe a hundred or so feet long, sixty wide, depth can vary, but I wouldn’t go more than fifteen feet. There won’t be any fish, but if they’d like to swim I’d like that to be comfortable for them.” She said and smiled a little, raising her head with a hopeful shimmer in her blue eyes.

“Digging a lake is a substantial expense. Something like that would take time, unless we can find a solution.” He said, then smiled, “Do you know of any mutants with the awesome power of digging holes and filling them with water?”

“The digging no, unfortunately. I can fill it with water… slowly.” She reached up and rubbed the back of her head. “It can always be smaller if need be.”

“We could always get Jon Henry out there with a shovel, right?” He asked, and chuckled right away. “He’d have another reason to be a grump.”

Solveig giggled cheerfully, her eyes sparkling and her nose wrinkling just slightly as her pearly white teeth showed. “Well, it might be worth it.”

“He wasn’t too rude, was he?” Winston said with a raise of his brow. “It was a long drive, and he’s really very possessive about his cars.”

“No, he wasn’t rude at all. Well, he tried to shove Hati in his trunk, but I warned him she would haunt him forever if he killed her by putting him back there. Otherwise it was honestly a very pleasant trip.” She spoke gently, almost fondly of the memory.

“Well, that’s good. Sometimes, when he brings people in, they bicker the whole time. He and his siblings are of a kind. I blame the divorce, but maybe that’s too secret.”

“I didn’t know he had any siblings. When was the divorce?” She asked curiously, her blue eyes settling on Winston’s face.

“He has a brother and a sister, but he’s the oldest. The divorce was in 96, so he was 13 at the time. He took it hard and got quite close to his mother, but he was a difficult child to raise.” He grinned. “He’s a difficult adult to raise.”

Again, she giggled, sweet and gentle. “I think he’s got a good heart under it all. I’m sure that was a very difficult age for that to happen. He probably felt like he had to step up and take over as the man of the house if he was living with his mother when he should have been focused on being a kid.”

Winston frowned and nodded. His eyes drifted to the clock on the wall before he could respond.

“Well, thank you for talking to me. I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes up at the school.”

“Ah, I didn’t mean to keep you so late.” She smiled. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with me, sir. I’ll see you later.”

“It’s no trouble, my friend. Take care of yourself.” Winston said, grabbing his mug and starting out the door at a calm, measured pace.

Solveig walked with him to the front door to see him out. As he exited, Hati entered with a parting meow of her own it seemed, and Solveig gave him a light wave of her hand. Only once he had started down the path did she finally close the door and let out a soft sigh. It was strange, but she did somehow feel a bit lighter after her talk with him. Maybe it would be alright here after all.

END

 

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