Chapter 10
Leif noticed that both Ella and the dinghy were gone, and he wondered if she was out exploring Lyng?r.
He had seen her just two days ago, so he was surprised at how disappointed he was at not seeing her now.
It stumped him, how swiftly he’d fallen for her.
He’d thought about her when he drifted off to sleep last night and he awakened thinking about her this morning.
She was gorgeous and artistic, and hot—he could admit that.
But whatever it was that drew him to her was much more complicated than sheer physical attraction alone.
He loved that she had a creative side. And she felt oddly familiar to him, even though they barely knew each other.
It scared him a bit, when he got honest with himself.
Ella might disrupt his safe and grounded routine.
He knew he should forget about her and stick with Charlotte, who was at least a known entity.
As he placed the can of primer next to the skiffs on the grass, he wondered why Erik had insisted that Ella return the boat.
Erik loaned boats to renters every summer, and Ella needed a boat to travel around Lyng?r.
Besides, from what Mia said, she was only staying a couple of weeks, if that.
Rain scalloped the horizon. He could smell it coming.
A flash of red drew his attention to the dinghy coming around Lyng?rsida’s tip.
Ella sliced the oars into the water with an air of confidence, which surprised him.
She’d told him she wasn’t keen on the water.
He’d told himself he could never be with a woman who didn’t embrace the blue waters of Lyng?r, the waters that brought him so much peace.
But as the dinghy moved closer to the dock, something in his heart shifted at the sight of her. Perhaps because she wore the same yellow dress that she had the first day he saw her, warm and bright as the sun—Sunna.
· · ·
Leif crouched down on the dock, grabbed the dinghy line, and knotted it to a cleat. “May I help?” He extended his hand to Ella.
Her face was sickly green. “No, thanks, I’ve got this. It’s just that the water was rough. I’m OK though.”
Right, she didn’t seem OK, but he stepped back to give her space.
She pressed her palms against the dock, and with a determined growl, lifted herself out of the boat.
She had a glimmer of satisfaction in her eye as she rose to her feet, but her teeth chattered, the hem of her flimsy skirt was wet, and her feet were bare. She’d catch a cold.
“Learn to dress for the weather, will you?” His teasing put color back into her cheeks.
“I know how to dress, Little Boy Blue.”
“Ouch,” he said.
“Why are you here?” She hugged her chest.
“I delivered some tools . . .” His voice trailed off, as she was already climbing the stairs. He caught up to her, racking his brain for something witty to make her laugh, but he was fresh out of words and stood awkwardly at the door as she wrestled the key into the lock.
“Come in,” she said with a half smile.
In the foyer she slid her feet into a pair of fringed moccasin boots lined with soft wool, put on a fuzzy mohair sweater, and then let out a contented sigh.
Following her into the sitting room, he regarded the damp dress hugging her hips, and desire burned through him.
He averted his eyes, settling them on the trestle table where there lay a red-ink sketch of a woman, on what looked like the back of a photograph.
The woman reminded him of Ella, with her corkscrew hair and wide mouth.
“Is that you?” Leif motioned at the drawing, careful not to touch it. He’d learned his lesson when he thumbed through her sketchbook.
“That’s my mother.” Yanking the throw from the rocking chair, she wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Beautiful. You look like her.” He glanced at Ella, uncertain how she’d take the compliment, but she looked pleased. He noted the inscription on the sketch and read it aloud. “Is this why you want to go to G?sholmen?”
“Yes. From what I can tell from this drawing, my mom went there, and I want to know more.”
“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Chasing the past often leads to pain.”
“And you’re the expert?”
“Maybe.” Truth was, he knew about pain. And the past wasn’t something he liked to discuss. “Scratch at wounds and they fester.”
“What?” Ella said.
“You know, there’s a reason I always wear blue.
” He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled chin.
“My father, Bjorn, was a boatbuilder. He loved Norwegian folklore, Viking gods and goddesses, all of it. Same as me.” Leif sat down in the oak chair and began to rock gently.
“On my fifth birthday, my father gave me a book on Njord, the Norwegian god of the sea. Njord had a special fondness for the color blue, and my father always insisted we wear blue to please Njord . . . you know, so he’d be good to us on the water.
But the awful thing was, my father didn’t wear any blue at all one day, and that’s the day he died in a boat accident. ”
“Oh, that must’ve been horrible. My heart goes out to you.” She set two glasses on the serving shelf and reached for a bottle. “Join me for a drink?” she said, her voice softer. “I’m listening.”
“Yes, thanks,” Leif said. “It was horrible. It hurt so much that I sometimes wish I never knew him.” Leif could see the empathy in Ella’s eyes.
Normally he didn’t talk about his past. It made him feel vulnerable, and he’d carried the weight of it since he was old enough to understand.
Now, surprisingly, he was opening up to Ella, whom he barely knew.
Perhaps it was because she’d been orphaned as a child too.
He stood. “No one would talk about the accident when they thought I could overhear, but I still caught snatches of their conversations.” Leif still remembered the cruelest remarks.
Drunk fool. Murderer. Killing himself and those two out-of-town fellas.
He raised his glass, and Ella mirrored the gesture.
They sipped the scotch, which went down smoothly, with nice light peat notes and a hint of ripe berries.
Expensive. He studied the twenty-five-year-old bottle with its silver-encased neck and silver hammer logo and recognized it as Inger’s.
The Saturday before, she’d hosted an outdoor dinner party at Ringpynten to say farewell to her garden, her favorite place in the world.
“I feel a little bad about drinking it, but some renter probably forgot it,” Ella said, swirling the amber liquid around her glass.
Leif considered telling her that the scotch belonged to Inger, but it was too late: A third of it was gone, and Inger probably shouldn’t have left it behind anyway.
He also didn’t know if Ella knew that Inger had planted the garden, but he didn’t want to get involved, so he hid his guilty expression behind the rim of his glass. “Where were you rowing earlier?”
“I went out exploring and ended up at the grocery. Mia introduced me to her friend Inger. She invited me to the summer party.” Ella moved to the sofa.
“Did she? Will you go?” He tried to hide his surprise.
“Yes, I’d like to meet the locals to see if any of them remember my family. I don’t know if I can row the dinghy over there though.” Picking up her guitar, she settled it on her lap.
“No, it’s too far. Rough waters,” Leif said and tipped back his drink.
“I’ll figure something out.” Ella strummed the guitar, humming in that smooth, honeyed tone of hers. He felt her voice in his gut—and it didn’t stop there, but vibrated straight up his spine. He should take her to the party.
“Why don’t I pick you up?” he asked.
“That would be wonderful,” she grinned at him, strumming.
“OK. How about I swing by here at four o’clock tomorrow?” He didn’t quite know what Inger was up to, but he thought he’d better keep an eye on that situation too.