Chapter 11
The dinghy slid into the sheltered cove at G?sholmen.
It had taken Ella thirty minutes to row there, and now small blisters bubbled on her palms. She dumped the oars into the boat and shook out her hands.
The small waves had seemed like steep hills, but she had pushed through them.
She was proud of herself. It felt like the first time she exhibited her work at an art festival in Colorado Springs.
She’d almost backed out of that too, with Hilda’s words weighing on her: “Be realistic. There are gazillions of artists out there, and they’re far more talented than you.”
Ella’s will to prove her grandma wrong had turned out to be stronger than her self-doubt.
She sold nearly everything she displayed—dresses she’d designed and several of her photographs.
It was a triumph, as was making it to G?sholmen.
She’d only been in Lyng?r for a short time, and already she’d rowed from one island to another!
Clutching the mooring line, she stepped cautiously onto the algae-coated rocks, careful not to fall into the water. She could see colorful minnows just below the teal surface, and starfish clinging to the reef. She decided that in her next incarnation she wanted to be a mermaid.
After several attempts, she tied the line to the mooring pole hammered into the bank.
She pushed back her sleeve and checked her watch.
Two hours until Leif picked her up at Ringpynten, so she had enough time to explore the uninhabited island, a nature preserve—which according to her map was the size of two football fields—before rowing home to meet him.
She thought ahead to what she would wear to the party. Maybe if she tried to fit in, the locals would embrace her. Not that she particularly cared, since she was leaving soon anyway, but she needed them to like her enough to help her get the information she so desperately wanted.
And she really didn’t care what Leif thought about her, but he did have nice shoulders.
When she handed him the scotch yesterday, the air went warm and staticky between them.
Chemistry, and a crazy amount of it. He’d only offered to give her a ride, so she didn’t think this was a date—but was it?
Maybe she should wear her favorite red dress and gold-heart hoop earrings.
She was definitely overthinking things.
The oval-shaped cove cut into the island, and she swished her fingers across the clear surface of the water. It was cold but not freezing. Maybe on warm summer days Sara had happily waded here with friends.
G?sholmen was a romantic place for a date, with its sweet cove, pastel wildflowers, and songbirds flitting between the seagrasses.
As Ella touched a cluster of cream blooms on a patch of Queen Anne’s lace, she knew that G?sholmen would somehow appear in one of her future lines of clothing.
Maybe this island inspired some of Sara’s designs.
Ella ducked under a thick tangle of branches and entered a clearing, then halted abruptly at the sight of a big, slanted boulder.
She’d studied Sara’s photograph enough to recognize the spot.
Her eyes welled up, knowing that her mom had been here, spent time here with someone she cared about greatly, and perhaps even loved.
Maybe they built a small campfire and toasted marshmallows skewered on sticks, or sipped champagne and fed each other chocolate-covered strawberries.
Looking through her tears, Ella imagined her mom and this man snuggled up together on the blanket while holding hands and kissing.
She longed to meet the owner of the loafers in the photo, but with no clues to his identity, her chances of finding him were slim to none.
The chilly salt breeze cut through her cotton blouse.
She should’ve brought a coat, and she needed to get back.
She wouldn’t have time to change her clothes or apply that lipstick unless she hurried.
She made her way down the trail, but when the cove came into view, she froze.
Her hand flew to her throat and her heart thudded.
The dinghy was gone.
How was that possible? As she walked to the mooring poles, the wind nipped beneath her skirt and at her legs.
Her knees shook and her breath came fast in panic.
Of course, a shoelace knot like hers wouldn’t hold!
Now she’d lost the dinghy, like an idiot.
And worse than that, she was stranded alone on the island.
Ella looked at the sea and she shivered.
It was stupid of her to travel to a foreign country where she knew absolutely no one, and not a single person would even know if she went missing.
She’d probably freeze to death in the cold air tonight and later be eaten by seabirds before anyone stumbled upon her.
She sank down on the rocks and began to cry.