Peek A Boo I See You (Emma Frost #5) (2 page)

"Please, Samuel. Use your spoon to eat with," she repeated, when he didn't listen. She looked at her mother, who stared at her with contempt. Alexandra blushed and picked up the spoon. She tried to hand it to him.

"Samuel, use the spoon, please."

The boy laughed and kept eating with his fingers. Alexandra felt discouraged. Wasn't it, after all, his birthday? Wasn't he supposed to have fun and do as he pleased for once?

Alexandra looked at Poul who shrugged. Alexandra was torn inside. She wanted to discipline the boy, yet she wanted him to have fun on his birthday and, if that meant eating his cake with his fingers, then shouldn't he be allowed to?

"Alexandra," her mother said, with a harsh tone. "He really shouldn't…"

"I know, Mom. I know," she interrupted her. She turned towards her son. "Samuel, please use your spoon," she repeated, more firmly than she liked to.

The boy stopped eating and looked up at his mother. What she saw in his eyes scared her more than anything. Those delightful blue eyes that she loved so dearly suddenly turned almost black. Alexandra gasped.

Samuel let out an ear-piercing scream before he picked up the cake from his plate and started throwing it at his mother. When there was no more cake, he picked up the spoon and threw it at her, then the plate. Alexandra whimpered and drew backwards, while Poul looked at the scene with nothing but apathy.

"Samuel. Stop it immediately," Alexandra's mother yelled at the boy.

But the boy didn't stop. His tantrum continued. He jumped down from his chair and ran towards his mother, hitting his fists into her stomach. Alexandra whimpered and cried. She held his shoulders to hold him back, but the boy seemed, suddenly, to possess inhuman strength and managed to get free. He hit her again and again and Alexandra cried in despair.

"Please, sweet Samuel. Please stop."

"Poul, do something," Alexandra's mother said.

Poul looked at her like he didn't understand.

"Take the boy to his room," her mother said.

Poul put the camera down carefully then stormed towards them, grabbed the boy around the waist and, while Samuel was kicking and screaming, he carried him up the stairs and put him in his room. Alexandra staggered backwards and landed on the couch. Whimpering, she sat down while listening with terror to her son screaming and yelling from his room upstairs, banging and kicking the door.

2

February 2014

I
WAS STARING AT
the letter on the kitchen table in front of me like I had been for the last hour, wondering whether I should open it or not.

The big white envelope seemed to be mocking me. Could I open it and not care what the result was? Could I not open it and go around uncertain about the result for the rest of my life?

I sipped my coffee and took another piece of chocolate. I had eaten almost an entire package of my favorite Marabou-chocolate with licorice since I had emptied the mailbox that same morning after the kids had taken off to school.

"It was going to happen one time or another, Emma," I told myself. "The result was going to come. You knew this. You asked for it. You can't keep going on as if everything is the same."

I inhaled deeply, picked up the envelope and looked at it. My daughter's name on the front seemed so huge, like it was yelling at me to open it.

I didn't want to. I really didn't want to know the truth about my daughter's father. I had contacted Erik Gundtofte and told him to go to a lab in Copenhagen and leave a sample for them to examine. I sent them hair from my daughter's brush to take a DNA sample from and have them compare them. Now they had the result and I was terrified of the truth.

Maybe it won't show anything. He is, after all, only one out of many that could be Maya's father. What are the chances? Just open it, you coward, and get it over with.

I shrugged and turned the envelope over with the intention of finally opening it when, suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"No, not now!" I mumbled. "Go away."

I stared at the half-opened envelope. My heart was racing. Part of me wanted to be disturbed, wanted to have to postpone it, while the other half wanted to get it over with.

The doorbell rang again and I got up. I hid the letter in a drawer, then went for the door. Thinking it was maybe a package of clothes that Maya had ordered, I opened the door expecting to find my mailman, but it wasn't him.

"Hi, honey."

I was startled. Almost in shock.

"Mom?"

The woman standing outside looked like my mother, except she looked ten years younger.

"You lost weight," I said.

"Almost fifty pounds," she said with a smile. She turned her body in the leather jacket and leather pants. "Looking good, right?"

"Did you do something to your face?" I asked.

It looked like she tried not to smile, but her expression remained the same. "Got a facelift and some Botox. You like it?"

I didn't know what to say. To be honest, she looked terrible. Not that it wasn't nicely done, she just didn't look like my mother.

"Can I come inside?" she asked.

"Of course," I said and spotted the three huge Louis Vuitton suitcases behind her. She left them there and entered my house.

"What about the…?" I asked, but she was gone.

I stared at the three suitcases that had to have cost at least two-thousand Euros each. They probably wouldn't last long in my yard, so I grabbed one and carried it inside.

After getting all three of them inside my hallway, I closed the door and walked to the kitchen where I found my mother sitting at the table, still looking like she was the happiest person on earth. The only thing that gave her away was a small tear that had escaped the corner of her eye and now rolled down her cheek.

"What are you doing here, Mom? Why aren't you in Spain with that Pablo-guy?"

My mother sniffled and looked at me. She was still smiling from ear to ear, which made her really creepy to look at, while another tear rolled down her cheek.

"Pedro," she corrected me. "Pedro left me."

3

February 2014

I
POURED MY MOTHER
some coffee and we sat at the kitchen table while drinking it. I found some candy in a drawer and put it in a bowl. My mother didn't touch it, while I couldn't keep my fingers out of it. I felt highly uncomfortable in this situation and that always made me eat.

"So, what happened, Mom?" I asked with my mouth filled with salty fish, my favorite licorice.

"He found someone else, the bastard," she said. "Guess he finally got tired of being with someone ten years older than him."

She looked at me while I took another piece of licorice. "I don't understand how you can eat that garbage," she added, and made me feel even more uncomfortable. "The sugar and salt is horrible for your skin, sweetie. If you keep this up, you'll end up looking old by next week. Not to mention what it does for your waist. You really should think more about your health, Emma. You've gained weight since I saw you last. You're young and still look good, but that won't last, dear, and then there'll be nothing left but the extra kilos and…well, you know…You'll be old and alone. Like me."

Her comments made me feel insecure and I grabbed an extra handful candy to soothe my emotions. "I don't care," I said.

My mother sipped her coffee that she had taken black since I didn't have any of the skinny almond milk that she usually used. I stared at her, wondering how long she thought she was going to stay here. I had hardly seen her in the past four years, since she suddenly left my dad for her Spanish adventure with Pedro. I had visited her twice and felt like I was visiting a stranger. Now I had the same feeling again. This woman in my kitchen didn't resemble much of the mother I had grown up with. The mother I had known loved my dad and the life they had together. She took care of me and always made sure the house looked impeccable. Sure, she had a few extra kilos and wrinkles that showed she had lived a full life taking care of her family, but she had been happy. And I had at least been able to see it on her face if she wasn't. Now, I didn't know. She was crying, I saw tears now and then in her eyes, but her face remained the same. It was constantly smiling. To be honest, it creeped me out.

"So…," I said. "So…what are you going to do now?"

"Well, what are my options? He was the one with all the money. We aren't married so I don't get a thing, do I?"

I sipped my coffee, not liking where this was going. "Nope," I said and grabbed another licorice.

"Of course I don't. Four years I put into that relationship and then he goes off and finds someone else. A flight attendant from one of his many business trips, the pig. You should see her, Emma. She is gorgeous. I tell you the legs on that girl…I can't blame him, really. Can't say I didn't see it coming with the way my body is deteriorating."

"Well, maybe there is supposed to be more to a relationship than just one's looks," I said. "Especially when you reach a certain age."

"What is that supposed to mean? Did you just call me old?" my mother said.

I tilted my head. "Mom, you are old. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but you're almost seventy. That’s a nice age, but it's not young anymore. You're a beautiful woman, but to be frank, you’ve come to look kind of scary with all the work you’ve had done. I can hardly recognize you anymore. I really never got why you'd ever run away with that Pablo-guy anyway. I especially don't understand how you could do it to Dad, who loves you and still insists on protecting you whenever I say anything bad. That's real love, Mom. Do you have any idea how sad he was when you left? He hardly ate or slept for months. He was so confused and sad, while you were down there having a blast in the sun. Not that I don't want you to have fun, I do, but you left a man who truly loved you. There, I said it."

My mother stared at me with a smiling face, but I knew she wasn't happy. She never took the truth well. I didn't care anymore. I had been wanting to say this to her for years. Now I had.

"Do you want some candy?" I asked, and pushed the bowl closer to her. I laughed when I noticed the fear in her eyes, as if the candy was going to attack her. "Come on, Mom. How long has it been since you last had a piece of candy? Live a little."

My mom chuckled. Then she shrugged. "Guess one piece wouldn't hurt."

"There you go, Mom," I said, and watched as she picked one up, put it in her mouth and started chewing. My mother closed her eyes.

"Oh my. I had completely forgotten how wonderful licorice tastes," she said, with a deep groan.

"I know. Why would you cheat yourself out of anything good in life?" I asked. "We only get this short time on earth and I intend to enjoy it while it lasts."

My mom looked at the bowl of candy. I pushed it closer. "Have another one," I said. "I'll make us some more coffee."

I got up from my chair and put on another pot of coffee, while my mother took another piece of candy.

"So, tell me about that policeman of yours," she said with a chuckle.

 "Morten?"

"Yes, you told me about him the last time I called. In December, I think it was."

"What's to tell? He’s nice. Not very handsome, but that doesn't matter. He’s good to me. I like him."

"I can tell you like him," my mother said.

I felt slightly uncomfortable again. It felt strange to be talking to my mother like this. She hadn't seemed interested in my life at all the last several years and it was only because I told her stuff about myself and the children that she knew anything at all. Why all this interest all of a sudden? I couldn't quite grasp it or contain it. It felt strange. I didn't know if I even wanted her in my life again or to share details about my life with her.

The coffee was done and I poured us some more, then sat down and looked at my mother again. "So what are you going to do, Mom?"

She exhaled. "I guess I'll stay with you for a little while?"

I almost choked on my coffee. I kind of knew it was coming with the suitcases and all, but it still startled me. "Really?" I said with a shrill voice.

"Well you're all I’ve got now, right? You and the kids. I think it’s about time they spend some time with their grandmother. Then you can go out with that Morten-guy of yours."

I stared at my mother in disbelief. Why was she saying these things? Did she want something from me? There had to be an alternate motive or something. My mother never wanted to just hang out with my children. Especially not with Victor who could be very difficult to handle.

"Don't you want that?" she asked. "To be able to spend more time with Morten?"

"Well yes, I guess I do."

My cell phone vibrated on the kitchen table. I looked at the display, then back at my mother. "Speaking of ... " I said, and took it. "Morten? I thought you were at work all day?"

"I am," he said. His voice was very serious. My heart dropped. A million thoughts ran through my head. Had something happened to Maya at school? Or to Victor?

"What's going on?" I asked.

"We found a body outside City Hall. I need you to come down immediately."

4

July 2001

I
T WAS A NICE,
warm summer Saturday and Alexandra had planned a day at the beach. She loved living on the island of Fanoe with its wide sandy beaches…especially in the summertime. They didn't have much money and couldn't afford to go on vacation, but they didn't need it since they had - in her opinion - the best beaches in the world within walking distance.

Alexandra was whistling while packing a lunch basket and finding towels and beach toys for Samuel to play with. As a teacher, Alexandra had five weeks off in the summertime, but Poul had just started his own auto repair shop, so he had to work all summer. So, it was only going to be the two of them. Up until now, it had been good. Alexandra had spent extra time with Samuel, giving him the extra amount of attention that his doctor had told her he needed.