The Indian Bride (6 page)

"Her chest has been crushed. All of her ribs are broken. One knee is badly damaged, too. If we get her back on her feet again, I'm afraid that that knee will not work perfectly again."

If we get her back on her feet?
I feel sick, Gunder thought. His breakfast churned in his stomach. A wide door opened into a small room. He saw something dark against the white pillow, but couldn't see how that could really be his sister, Marie. He stood in front of the bed, shaking.

"We have to find Karsten," he stuttered. "Her husband. He's in Hamburg."

"I'm glad we were able to get hold of you," the doctor said. He helped Gunder into a chair. Marie was white, almost blue below the eyes. A tube was taped in place across her mouth. He heard a slow, hissing sound from the respirator. It sounded like a giant heavily asleep.

"What we are most concerned about," the doctor said, clearing his throat, "is the trauma to her head. We won't know the extent of it until she regains consciousness."

What did he mean? Was she no longer herself? Would she wake up and have forgotten who he was? Forgotten how to talk, or laugh, or that two and two made four? Might she open her eyes and look at him not knowing who she even was herself? Gunder felt himself tumbling into a deep pit. But he clung to the thought of Poona. Her face appeared at the edge of this cavernous darkness, smiling.

He kept looking at his watch. Marie was tiny in the bed and her round face had lost all its contours. He had to let someone in on his secret about Poona. Someone he trusted, who would not laugh or make him doubt. Someone who was willing to do him a favor.

"Marie!" he whispered.

No response. Did she hear him?

"It's me. Gunder. I'm sitting by your bed."

He looked at the doctor despondently, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Everything is going to be fine," he said. "Poona and I are going to take care of you."

It helped to say her name out loud. He wasn't, after all, alone.

The clock was ticking. He could not leave Marie—what would she think? What would the doctors think if he popped his head around the ward sister's door and said, "I'll be off now. I have to pick someone up at the airport." He tried to organize his thoughts, but they refused to let themselves be organized.
Would he at last have found a wife, but at the same time lose a sister? He buried his face in his hands in despair. The doctor came over and stood close to him.

"I'm going now. Call ... if there's anything."

Gunder rubbed his eyes hard. Who could he depend upon? He did not have close friends. Had never wanted any. Or had not managed to make any—he was no longer sure which. Time passed. The respirator tormented him with its hissing sound; he was almost tempted to switch it off to avoid having to listen to it. It interfered with his own breathing and made him breathless. Eventually he let go of Marie's hand and got up abruptly. Went into the corridor and found a pay phone.

Gunder never took minicabs himself, but he knew the number by heart. It was on Kalle's Mercedes in black numbers. He answered at the second ring.

"Kalle. It's Gunder Jomann. I'm at the Central Hospital. My sister has been in a car crash!"

At first there was only silence at the other end. He could hear Kalle's breathing.

"That's dreadful," he said with feeling, at last. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes!" Gunder said. "It so happens that I'm expecting a visitor from abroad. From India."

Not a word from Kalle, who knew about Gunder's journey to India and was beginning to realize the implication.

"She's arriving at Gardermoen from Frankfurt at 6
P.M.
and is expecting me to meet her. But there is no way I can leave Marie. She's in a coma," he whispered.

"Oh? I see." Kalle's voice was barely audible.

"Would you pick her up for me?"

"Me?" Kalle said.

"You have to drive to the airport and find her! With your taxi, you can surely park at the main entrance. Charge whatever you have to. But you need to leave right away if you're to make
it. When she comes out of the arrival hall and doesn't see me, she'll probably go to the information desk. She's Indian," he repeated. "She has long dark hair, which is plaited. A bit younger than me. And if you don't see her you have to get them to page her. Her name is Poona Bai."

"Could you say her name again?" Kalle said uncertainly.

Gunder did as he was asked.

Kalle had finally collected himself. "Shall I take her back to your house?"

"No, bring her here, please. To the Central Hospital. My sister's married name is Dahl. She's in a neurology ward on the tenth floor."

"I need the flight number," said Kalle. "An awful lot of planes land there."

"I forgot it at home. But it lands at six o'clock. From Frankfurt."

Gunder sensed his despair was taking over. He thought of the fear that would grip Poona when she couldn't find him.

"Kalle," he whispered. "She's my wife. Do you understand?"

"No." Kalle sounded frightened.

"We were married in India on August 4. She's coming to live in Elvestad."

Kalle stared wide-eyed through his front window. "I'm leaving right away!" he cried. "Stay with your sister. I'll take care of this."

"Thank you!" said Gunder. He wanted to cry with relief. "Tell Poona I'm so sorry."

Kalle started the car, but did not flick on the meter. A few minutes later the white Mercedes was roaring down the E6.

***

Gunder went back to Marie's room. No change. To think that she could not breathe on her own. He imagined her lung as a flimsy balloon speared by the sharp bone splinters. Then it
had collapsed. They had reinflated it and reshaped it. The doctor had said that the cuts would heal on their own. This, too, was good. He looked at the clock. A nurse appeared at regular intervals. She looked at Gunder and smiled. Told him he needed a break, to go and get a bite to eat.

"I couldn't face food," said Gunder.

"I'll get you a drink."

Slowly he began dozing. The respirator was starting to make him sleepy; it was exactly like clockwork. Sucking the air out of Marie, forcing it back in, sucking it out. The time was 5:58
P.M.
He thought, Poona's plane will be landing now. I hope to God that Kalle will have made it. That he will find her in the crowd. He stared down at his sister. Then it occurred to him that he had not asked a single question about the accident. What about the other car? What about the people in it? Why hadn't anyone said anything? He was struck by the horrifying thought that perhaps someone had died. That Marie would wake up to a nightmare. He thought of Karsten, who still knew nothing. Was he sitting somewhere with a foaming beer in front of him, perhaps listening to the raucous bellowing of German drinking songs? Soon Poona will be getting her luggage, he thought, and she, too, knows nothing of what has happened. Kalle is looking for her now. Gunder could see clearly Kalle's graying head standing out among the crowd. The nurse reappeared. Gunder summoned up his courage.

"What actually happened?" he said. "The accident. What did she hit? Another car?"

"Yes," the nurse said.

"What happened to the other driver?"

"He's not doing so well," the nurse said.

"I do need to know what happened," he pleaded. "She may wake up and ask me. I need to know what to say!"

She looked at him gravely. "He's here. But we couldn't save him." She bent over Marie and pulled up her eyelids. He saw the
dead expression in them and gulped. A man had died and perhaps it was Marie's fault.

Then another nurse arrived. She held a cordless phone in her hand. His heart leaped in anticipation. It was Kalle.

"I couldn't find her," he said, out of breath. "She must have gotten another cab."

Gunder panicked. "You didn't see her at all?"

"I looked everywhere, and they paged her, but she must have gotten her luggage and cleared customs really quickly. I asked at the information desk if anyone of that name had been there looking for help and they paged her while I was waiting, but no one came."

"What time did you get there?" Gunder stammered.

"I'm not quite sure. I drove as fast as I could," he said unhappily.

Gunder felt sorry for Kalle, who now had a bad conscience for no reason at all.

"She's probably gone to your house," Kalle suggested. "Perhaps she's sitting on your doorstep. I'll drive up there now."

"Thank you," Gunder said.

He handed the phone back. The nurses looked at him inquiringly, but he said nothing. He could not face talking anymore. Marie could not hear him anyway. An eternity passed and a message was passed to him that Poona had not been waiting at the house. Perhaps she had not been on the plane at all, Gunder thought, bewildered. Perhaps it would be all right to contact Lufthansa? They could confirm whether she had been on the flight. Once more he went out to the pay phone and called the airport. Eventually they confirmed it. Poona Bai had traveled with Lufthansa from Frankfurt. The plane had landed on time at 6
P.M.
Gunder went back up in the elevator. Looked at his sister in the bed. His body felt heavy and infinitely tired. Reluctantly he got up again and left the room. Stopped in the doorway of the duty sister's office. Explained that he had to go
because something had happened, but he promised to return. Please would they call if there were any developments?

They looked at him in surprise. But of course they would call. So he went home. Sat behind the steering wheel, lost in his own thoughts, and was nearly home when a car swept toward him at great speed. It was way over on his side of the road. He threw his wheel sharply to the right and gasped. His heart skipped a beat. Things could happen so quickly! Why don't you get started sooner if it's that important! he snapped at the mirror. The rear of a white Saab disappeared around a corner.

It was 9:30
P.M.
when he let himself in. He sat at his desk and looked at the photograph of himself and Poona. The evening came and then the night. Everything inside him was in turmoil. Had she misunderstood? Should he call the police? Surely they couldn't just start a manhunt? Where would they look? He sat up the whole night. Every time he heard the sound of a car he leaped out of his chair and pulled the curtain aside. There is an explanation for everything, he thought. Any minute now a taxi would draw up in front of the house. She would be with him at last. He glanced at the telephone. It did not ring. That meant that Marie was still unconscious and had no awareness of her own condition, or of the man in the other car who had died. Of Poona who had not arrived.

He sat all the time with the photograph in his hand. Looked at the odd yellow bag she always wore around her waist. He had never seen anything like it. He remembered how she kissed him on the nose and caressed his face with her warm hands. How she lifted up his shirt and hid her face in there. She would sit like that and listen to his heart. He lifted up the photograph close to his eyes. Her face was so tiny. It disappeared altogether behind his fingertip.

The next day, August 21, a police car drove slowly along the highway toward Elvestad. The white hood of the car gleamed in the sunlight. Two men stared through the windshield. They could make out a crowd of people in the distance.

"There," Skarre said.

They saw a clearing to the left. A meadow, surrounded by dense woods. Inspector Konrad Sejer looked toward the edge of the woods, where a police team was working. The whole meadow was cordoned off. A passageway had been created, through which they would apparently have to go. People got out of their cars quickly and headed out into the tall grass. It was already flattened in places. This furrow, Sejer thought, will stand out like an open wound for a long, long time. A number of bystanders had also gathered on the road. Youngsters on bikes, a few cars. And the press, of course, denied any closer access for now. Their camera lenses glinted aggressively. Sejer was easy to recognize by the way he walked. The long body moved steadily across the meadow. There was never anything hasty or rash about him. Similarly he always thought before he spoke. Young people who did not know him made the mistake of thinking he was dim. Others saw the calm personality and sensed a man who rarely did things he regretted and even more rarely made a mistake. The graying hair was cut very short. He was wearing a
black roll-neck sweater and a brown leather jacket that was unbuttoned. The group made way for him so he could reach the front unhindered. Jacob Skarre followed two yards behind, Sejer blocking his view. But suddenly there she lay at their feet. Skarre swallowed a huge quantity of air. What was it Holthemann had said on the phone?
A truly horrific crime.

Sejer thought he had prepared himself. He stood still, his legs slightly apart, and stared at the woman in the grass. The sight confused him. He saw a plait coiling like a black snake in the yellow grass. The rest of her face was smashed to the bone. Her mouth was a gaping red and black hole. Her nose had been struck flat against her cheek and he could not find her eyes in this pulp of red flesh. He had to avert his gaze and saw a clenched fist. A gold sandal. A lot of blood. It had been absorbed by her clothes and run off her down into the dry grass. He touched the pretty, silk fabric of the turquoise dress, where it still was clean. Glimpsed her glittering jewelry. As he raised his head he noticed blood smeared all over the grass some distance away from the woman, as though someone had dragged her farther afield. Automatically all his senses began working. He recognized the smell, heard the sound of voices, felt the soft ground give under his feet. He stared up at the blue sky for a moment and slowly lowered his head.

She was very slender. He saw a slim foot. Thin brown ankles. Her feet were naked in the sandals. Tiny feet, smooth and neat. Her age was impossible to determine. Anywhere between twenty and forty, he thought. Her clothing was undisturbed. There were no cuts on her hands.

"Snorrason?" he said eventually.

"Snorrason is on his way," Karlsen said.

Sejer looked at Skarre. He was standing in a strangely rigid position; only his curls moved in the wind.