On the Cold Coasts

dilated, and she wore a frightened expression. There was no sign of ethereal tranquility and peace in her countenance. Her mouth hung open, and rivulets of blood-laced saliva ran down her chin and onto her chest. Her hands were clenched, clutching a rosary against her chest. On the floor lay the glass flask from Thorkell, shattered, in a puddle of brown liquid. Ragna stood motionless for a long time, rigid as the body in front of her. Then she leaned over and closed her mother’s eyelids with her thumbs. She placed her palm under her jaw, pushing it upward. The chin was still warm and sank down again as soon as she released it. It would have to be tied with a cloth. She crossed her mother’s arms over her chest, leaving the rosary between her fingers.
    Ragna sat down on the edge of the bed and put her face in her hands. She began to sob uncontrollably, in spurts, like a glacial river ridding itself of ice. Wailing, she rocked back and forth; it was so painful, so unbelievably painful, to be an orphan. So alone, so horribly alone…
    The door opened and Thorkell stepped in, closing the door gently behind him. She looked up at him, her eyes swollen and red.
    “She died alone, Thorkell! She gasped for breath, her last breath, while we ate and drank and made toasts and sang and laughed. May the Lord forgive us for leaving her so alone!”
    He walked to the bed and put a finger on Sigridur’s swollen jugular vein, but found no pulse. He made the sign of the cross over her.
    “She has found rest and peace. She has been released from the torment of this worldly existence, dearest Ragna. She’s with God’s angels in paradise now, with your brothers and sisters, who have waited so long to see their mother.” He bent down on one knee in front of her, took her head in both hands, and wiped the tears out of the corners of her eyes with his thumbs, gently and lovingly. “Don’t cry, my love, I am here,” he whispered. “I’m here with you.”
    They looked into each other’s eyes, and she saw his tenderness give way to that strange smoldering look that always made her uneasy. He covered her face with kisses, his cool lips on her cheeks, forehead, temples, lips. Probing kisses full of desire and roughness; kisses that demanded reciprocation. “God, how I have missed you this summer!” he said, short of breath, preventing her from answering by kissing her mouth. His tongue slipped in through her lips and played with hers, and she tasted the liquor on his breath. His hands cupped her breasts, and the tips of his fingers caressed her nipples until they grew hard. His caresses set off a flame in her belly that was entirely inappropriate in front of her dead mother. Ragna pushed him away, more roughly than she had intended. “Thorkell, stop it! Have you drank away all your good sense?!”
    He fell backwards, upset. “I’m sorry, dearest. I lose all control in your presence. I didn’t mean to…please forgive me, wretched sinner that I am.” His deep-blue eyes were moist and glistening, and he looked so miserable that she didn’t have the heart to be angry with him.
    “I have also missed you,” she admitted softly.
    “Then come to Grenjadarstadur with me. You know you belong there,” he said tenderly. He stroked her tear-stained cheeks, swept a lock of hair away from her face, and placed it behind her ear. “You belong by my side, Ragna. I need you with me.”
    She was going to answer and tell him not to speak of this again because she no longer had a choice, if she had ever had one. But at that moment Thorsteinn entered the sleeping quarters, followed by Kristin, holding her son. Thorkell leapt to his feet, nearly falling over in haste. They did not ask why he had been kneeling on the floor, only registered the fact that Sigridur’s hacking breath was no longer audible, her eyes were shut, and her hands crossed over her chest.
    “Were you with her when she passed?” Thorsteinn asked hoarsely, addressing Ragna. He reeled slightly and held on to the bedpost for support. Wretchedly she shook her head and sniffled.
    “I left her before dinner. She was feeling all right then and was going to try to sleep. Then when I came to check on her a little while ago…” She swallowed and was unable to speak further.
    Thorsteinn stood silent and motionless, gazing at the body of his wife, his eyes dry and his face devoid of expression. His jaw flexed when he gritted his teeth, and his eyes narrowed slightly, like he was