Free A Newfound Land by Anna Belfrage

this, so he went over to where she was sitting on the sofa and laid down, pillowing his aching head in her lap. “I was thinking of trying...”
    Eva stiffened under him. “No, Magnus, please no.”
    He twisted round onto his back and lifted one hand to cup her face.
    “My little Eva, have I ever told you how glad I am that I went on that cruise all those years ago and met you?”
    She smiled, covering his hand with her own. “Not as such. But I know.”
    “I’ll die pretty soon,” Magnus went on, closing his eyes to avoid her pleading look. “If I’m with you one month or six months doesn’t really make that much of a difference, does it?”
    “Yes, it does, that’s another 150 days.”
    He smiled at her preciseness. “But they might be rather awful days.” He sat up beside her and took her hands in his. “I might have a chance to see her again. I’ve no idea if it will work – and anyone with a mind as rational as yours will of course scoff and say it won’t work – but I’m going to try.”
    She disengaged her hands and hugged him. “How will I ever cope without you?” she whispered into his neck.
    “You’ll have to learn, sweetheart. I’m going to be gone anyway.” He swallowed back on an urge to cry and hugged her back. They sat like that for a long time.
    *
    “I promised you several years ago that I’d tell you the truth.” Magnus bent down to extract the roasted chicken from the oven. “Breast or leg?”
    “Leg,” Isaac said, “and more potatoes than carrots.
    “So it’s back,” Isaac stated once they were both seated.
    Magnus nodded. “Three. The size of walnuts. And if nothing’s done I’ll be dead within two to six months.”
    “And if you do something?” Isaac’s voice wobbled.
    “They don’t know. A year? Two years?” Magnus waved his chicken bone at him. “But I don’t want to. I hated it last time, and this time I’ve decided not to.”
    Isaac shoved his plate away from him. “But that means you die.”
    “I die anyway. It’s just a question of how quickly.” Magnus took a deep breath. “Last time I almost fell through one of your paintings by accident, remember?” He’d just been looking at it, holding the delicate canvas in his big hands, when it had begun to hum, to whisper and cajole. Moments later, he’d been sucked into a vortex of bright light, and even now, so many years later, Magnus had to fist his hands to stop them from trembling at the recollection of that horrible sensation of falling down an endless, narrow chute.
    Isaac nodded, eyes wary.
    Magnus gave him a lopsided smile. Yes, this was terrible stuff to talk about.
    “Dad pulled you back. He says all he could see were your legs...”
    Magnus shuddered. John had pulled him back in the nick of time, after which he’d demolished the canvas with a knife.
    “Shit, it hurt! My head felt like it was about to explode with pressure. And next time I went to the doctor the tumour had disappeared.” He met his grandson’s dark eyes and pursed his lips. “This time I’m going to try and fall all the way.”
    “No,” Isaac groaned, “no, Offa.”
    “I have to, I...” He exhaled loudly. “I miss her so much. And if I’m going to die anyway, then why not? Who knows, the tumours might be zapped into oblivion this time as well.”
    “Or not, and then what? No hospitals, no doctors...”
    “I’m prepared to take that chance.”
    “And what about me?” Isaac sounded much younger than he was.
    Ah, shit.
    Magnus leaned forward and tousled the dark mop of hair. “You? You’ll do fine. You have to. And you’ve got John and Diane and even Eva to help you out.”
    “But not you,” Isaac said accusingly.
    “I’ll be dead shortly anyway. But somehow I’ll be around. In your dreams and in your thoughts, I’ll still be there.”
    Isaac didn’t reply. He just took hold of Magnus’ hand.
    *
    Over the coming weeks, Magnus said silent farewells to everything: his garden and his home, his family