For three years I stayed in the sanatorium with Doctors Spilde and Hough in constant attendance. I had my good days followed by bad ones that threw me back into the fog of insanity. On good days, I sat in the garden in the sunshine. Mama and papa came to visit bringing Magnus with them. Fredrik had married Finna Calland, a young lady he had meet while on a cross country ski trip. Mama described her as a lovely girl—beautiful and buxom—with a strong sense of duty to her new family. Perhaps, papa suggested, I would soon be well enough to return home to meet her myself. There was soon to be an addition to the family, a new member of the Wolle family. I looked forward to returning to the village in time for the new baby to arrive.

Yes, Doctor Spilde confirmed, soon I would be able to go home. My treatment had been a success according to the doctors. Could I go back, he asked taking my small hand between his palms. I thought I could. Still my mind turned back to those happy growing up days and to Jorgan who was my friend. Yes—despite all the bad tricks he had played on me—I still considered him my friend. And so the day of my return to the village was set. Mama and papa arrived to assist me upon my journey. Early in the morning, we caught the train and left Oslo behind.

"They've torn down the old fisher's hut, Inga," papa stated in his gentle old voice. "It was considered unsafe and, well, after...after...you know." He waved his hand in a pushing away gesture. "Let's not talk of that time and leave the fact that the fisher's hut is no longer there so you don't have to worry about seeing it there anymore."

"Yes, papa, let's not talk of it," mama responded. "Let's talk of happier things." We sat in companionable silence for a moment before she stated, "Fredrik is pleased you are coming home. He thinks you will get on well with Finna. She's a lovely girl and a good companion for you. She is looking forward to meeting you, dear Inga."

Finna was a nice girl. She was with Fredrik when they met the train. We quickly became good friends and spoke of normal things that interest young ladies. I think she did a lot to bring me out of myself and to help me forget Jorgan Bradt. The baby, little Fred, was born and became the delight of the family. Then Anna came home with her son and daughter, Thorgil and Thora, bright little twins who were into everything. Her husband had been killed in a snowfall in the north of the country. And so we were all together again except for Maria who remained in her nunnery.

I found I could live and be happy as long as I pushed my memories of Jorgan Brandt aside. A part of me missed him and felt sorrow over the way he died. When I missed him, I gathered Reinroses and took them to his grave outside the churchyard fence. It was such a shame his death had been considered a suicide, which meant he couldn't lie in consecrated ground—it had all been a terrible mistake. I knew in my heart he had been a victim of his own horrible practical joke. I did love him, I realized, despite all his quirks and foolishness.

*Story inspired by Edvard Munch's The Scream