The Stonecutter by Camilla Läckberg Read Free Book Online Page B

treatment in front of this man.
    Normally, after an hour of silence she would have been almost in tears from boredom, but not this time. The hour flew past as she watched the men discussing business, and by the time the meeting was over, Agnes was sure of her cause. She wanted this man, more than she had ever wanted anything else.
    And what she wanted, she usually got.

    ‘Shouldn’t we visit Niclas?’ Asta implored her husband. But she saw no sign of sympathy in his stony expression.
    ‘I told you his name must never be mentioned in my house again!’ Arne stared hard out of the kitchen window, and there was nothing but granite in his gaze.
    ‘But after what happened to the girl …’
    ‘God’s punishment. Didn’t I tell you that would happen someday? No, this is all his own fault. If he’d listened to me it never would have happened. Nothing bad happens to God-fearing people. And now we shall speak no more of this!’ His fist slammed the table.
    Asta sighed to herself. Of course she respected her husband, and he did usually know best, but in this case she wondered if he might not be wrong. Something in her heart told her that this couldn’t be consistent with God’s wishes. Surely they should rush to their son’s side after such a terrible tragedy. True, she had never gotten to know her granddaughter, but she was still their own flesh and blood, and children did belong to the kingdom of God, that’s what it said in the Bible. But these were only the thoughts of a lowly woman. Arne was a man, after all, and he knew best. It had always been that way. So, as usual, she kept her thoughts to herself and got up to clear the table.
    Too many years had passed since she had spoken to her son. They did see each other occasionally on the street, of course; that was unavoidable now that he had moved back to Fjällbacka, but she knew better than to stop and talk to him. He had tried to speak to her a few times, but she always looked away and just walked off briskly, as she had been instructed to do. But she hadn’t cast down her eyes quickly enough to avoid seeing the hurt in her son’s eyes.
    The Bible did say that one should honor one’s father and mother, and what had happened on that day so long ago was, as far as she could see, a breach of God’s word. That’s why she shouldn’t let him back into her heart.
    She gazed at Arne as he sat at the table. His back was still as straight as a fir tree, and his dark hair had not thinned, in spite of a few flecks of gray. But they were both over seventy. She remembered how all the girls had run after him when they were young, but Arne had never seemed the least bit interested. He had married her when she was just eighteen, and as far as she knew he had never even looked at another woman. For that matter he hadn’t been particularly keen on carnal matters at home either. Asta’s mother had always said it was a woman’s duty to endure that aspect of marriage. It was not something to enjoy, so Asta had no great expectations and considered herself fortunate.
    Nevertheless, they did have a son. A big, splendid, blond boy, the spitting image of his mother. Maybe that was why things had gone so wrong. If he’d been more like his father, then Arne might have felt more of a connection with his son. But the boy had been hers from the start. She had loved him as much as she could, but it wasn’t enough. When the decisive day arrived and she was forced to choose between the boy and his father, she had let her son down. How could she have done otherwise? A wife must stand by her husband, she had been taught that since childhood. But sometimes, in bleak moments, when the lamp was off and she lay in bed looking up at the ceiling, she let the thoughts come. She wondered how something she knew to be right could feel so wrong. It a relief then that Arne always knew exactly how things should be. Many times he had told her that a woman’s judgment was not to be trusted; it was the