Chapter 13
Leif throttled down the engine and inched Rán toward G?sholmen, as the sun sank lower in the sky. He should have spotted Ella by now. Perhaps she’d found shelter amid the firs and boulders to escape the bitter wind.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Ella?”
But yelling her name was pointless. The wind, the engine, and the god-awful gulls drowned his voice.
Waves exploded against rocks, hissing as they withdrew.
He couldn’t risk being capsized by a freak wave.
Or the surf could toss his boat onto the rocks, which would rip a hole in the wood and wreck the propeller.
The rocks shredded people too, as they’d done to his father and those two out-of-towners.
The truth of it tormented Leif. He batted away the ghastly image of his father’s fate and weighed his options carefully.
It would be safest to pick up Ella at the cove.
Even so, it would be risky. There were no docks there, and the swells could easily shove Rán against the reefs and ruin the engine.
Should that happen, he’d drift out to sea, away from Ella and Lyng?r.
He’d heard countless stories of Norwegians dying on the water: Whether they were overconfident or careless or both, their boats drifted off to no-man’s-land, never to be seen again.
He reminded himself that he could handle any boat, and that nothing would ever happen to Ella on his watch.
He backed the boat away from land just as Ella rushed from the trees, mid-island, and stopped near the shore. Waving her arms frantically, she shouted at him, but he couldn’t hear a single word. He held up his arm in reply.
Incoming rollers almost sent Rán crashing against the shore.
He spun the helm to port, threw the engine into reverse, and revved it.
Bubbles trapped in the propeller burst forth and colored the water a milky green.
As the boat backed away swiftly, he motioned to her and then pointed in the direction of the mooring poles and the cove.
It was barely navigable. The cove wasn’t ideal but was his best bet.
Even so, getting her on board would be tricky.
The southwesterly wind whipped up the sea, salt spray covered every inch of his boat, and the deck was slick as wet kelp.
If she slipped when she boarded, he wouldn’t be able to help her.
He had to control the boat or the waves could shove the hull into Ella, smashing her against the barnacle-covered reefs.
That’s if the swells didn’t snatch her first and fling her against the granite. Ella likely wouldn’t survive that.
She ran to the cove, arms pumping. Her flimsy sandals, with their thin straps, looked about as useful as a sailboat with a busted keel on that algae-slickened shore.
“Slow down!” he yelled.
She slipped, fell forward, and landed on her knees.
“Are you hurt?” he shouted. Backing twenty yards from the island, he put the engine into neutral, spun the helm, and pointed the bow toward the cove.
“I’m OK,” she called in a shaky voice as she limped toward him. She didn’t look OK. Charcoal mascara streaked her cheeks, as if she’d been crying.
“Be careful!” he said. “The rocks are even slicker here.”
He slid Rán alongside the granite shelf and throttled down the engine. The boat rocked from side to side in the rough surf, and he swayed at the helm while fighting to keep the hull from hitting the reef.
“When you can, grab the rail and hoist yourself up!” he yelled. “Do you think you can do that?”
She nodded. He noticed how much her hands shook as she yanked the preserver from her bag, put it on, and fastened it.
Tucking her torn skirt into the belt cinched around her waist, she seized the railing and heaved her body up onto the bow of the boat.
At the flash of red underwear, he blinked to refocus on the waves.
Ella trembled as she crouched on the deck and staggered toward the helm.
He reached for her arm and guided her into the seat.
“Sit and stay put.”
“The dinghy floated away,” she said, and inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s my fault. I tied a bad knot. How stupid can I be?” Her voice caught. “I’m so glad you found me. Thank you. The dinghy is probably in Denmark by now.”
Her bottom lip quivered and she wiped her eyes, but she didn’t cry.
He was beyond relieved that he’d found Ella in one piece, and he hadn’t wrecked his boat either.
Still, he was unprepared to tell her the truth about what had happened to her boat.
Inger was part of his inner circle, a sister in all but blood.
Plus, Ella planned on leaving in a couple of weeks, and they’d most likely never see her again.
“Let me just move away from the rocks.” Leif backed the boat away from the cove and into the channel and then he put the engine in neutral, allowing Rán to drift. Despite Sunna’s sweater, she shivered and looked cold to the bone. He draped his sailing jacket around her shoulders.
“Don’t beat yourself up, OK? Someone found the dinghy drifting not far from here. They towed it to the party, and I headed out to look for you as soon as I saw it.” He was aware that he sounded annoyed, even though he was trying to swallow his fury at Inger.
“Someone found the dinghy? What a relief!” As Ella spoke, she grimaced at her knee and held it. “I think I might need a bandage.”
“Let me see.” He gestured at her legs. She lifted her skirt and he saw the blood trickling down her shins, blood seeping through the cotton fabric.
“You need more than a bandage,” he said. Ella was in rough shape, but she didn’t complain. As he throttled up the engine and headed to Ringpynten, he raised his voice over the thrumming. “I’m taking you home! We’ll be there shortly, and we can patch you up.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she insisted over the wind.
Neither spoke as Leif steered past small weather-scoured islands and terns twirling in the dusky pink light. When he pulled up to Ella’s dock, he cut the engine and exhaled in relief to have her home safely.
As he threw over the fenders, she hobbled across the deck and her feet slipped from beneath her. She pinwheeled her arms to steady herself. Leif jumped to reach for her and said, “Let me help.”
She nodded wearily. His hands encircled her waist, and he lifted her up and set her on the dock.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” She gave him a shaky smile. “Well, goodbye.”
“Those cuts look pretty bad. Why don’t you let me tape you up?”
“No, I’m OK.” She fidgeted with her beaded bracelets. “You should go back to the party. I can look after myself.” Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she watched a hawk circle the trees on the bluff.
He could tell she was embarrassed, and he wanted to put her at ease. He smiled at her. “Everyone falls and loses stuff. We’re only human. Do you have anything at the cottage for your cuts?”
She didn’t answer.
“Injuries from barnacles can cause serious infections, you know. They need to be sterilized.”
She lifted her skirt again and winced at her knees. “I take back what I said about it not being so bad. It’s not great, is it?”
“I can find something to bandage you up.”
“All right. Thank you.”
She limped across the dock, grimacing as she climbed the stairs slowly. Stubborn woman, he would grant her that. He chuckled, but only because he was sure she couldn’t hear him. Grabbing vodka and a clean T-shirt from the supply locker, he followed her.
In the kitchen, Ella trembled as she patted her knee with a wet towel. Her face was drawn, and gray as plaster.
“Thanks again for helping me,” she said.
“No worries.” It was clear to Leif now that Ella’s inexperience with boats meant that she couldn’t get around safely on her own. She was a danger to herself. He set the vodka on the counter with a hard clink. “But you have to be more careful on the water.”
“Please don’t lecture me.”
“Hop up here,” he patted the counter.
She dug her fists into her hips.
“It’s easier for me to bandage you if you’re sitting on the counter.” He twisted off the vodka cap.
“OK.” She braced her palms, hoisted herself up, and planted herself on the wood surface, legs hanging over the side. “I honestly don’t need a glass—just give me the bottle.” She reached for the booze.
“It’s to disinfect your cuts. But go ahead and take a big sip because this’ll sting.”
She took a swig and handed it back to him.
“Right, now take a deep breath.” He held the bottle over her cuts. “I’ll count to three.”
Ella sucked in air before holding her breath.
“One. Two.” He dumped the vodka on her knees.
She jumped, almost knocking the bottle from his hand. “Jeez, that hurts! And you didn’t say three!” She gritted her teeth.
“It’ll feel better in a second.”
“You’ve done this before?”
“Sure. Last time was a month ago, when my friend stepped on a fishhook.”
“Does she still have her foot?”
He laughed. She’d grinned, but only just. Somehow all her smiles, big or small, comforted him like a lantern in the dark, and he longed to kiss her.
“Why do you assume my friend is a woman?” He winked. “Want another sip?” He passed her the bottle, and she swallowed two mouthfuls. Using his pocketknife, he tore the T-shirt into strips and handed them to her. “This will have to do. I don’t stow a first-aid kit on board, but I should.”
“It’ll do.”
He wound the strips around her knees, and his hands brushed against her smooth skin. As he tied the strips into place, goosebumps rose on her thighs, and he averted his eyes.
“All done,” he said.
She looked at her doctored knees. “Good as new. Thanks . . . really. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you hadn’t found me.
” As she hopped down from the counter, she cringed.
With her injuries taken care of, he again noticed her smeared mascara.
He felt awful that she’d been crying while trapped all alone on a damn island.
He was getting more upset with Inger by the minute.
“You know how you can thank me? Be more careful next time,” he said.
“You told me that already.” She shot him a look. The ceiling light caught the amber flecks in her eyes.
He snatched the vodka from the counter. “You really should learn how to operate a boat before you go out on the water again. This isn’t child’s play.” He heard the gruffness in his own voice, and that made him feel worse. He took a gulp from the bottle.
“I’m not stupid,” she snapped at him.
“I didn’t say you were.” He took another swig. She was upset, but she didn’t understand: The sea was moody and could turn ugly, fast. She had no idea how to read the weather or the current, and she seemed to have no clue about what was dangerous. She scowled. He tried to explain.
“Look, if you don’t respect the sea, it will take your life. Why did you go to G?sholmen, anyway? I told you I’d come by and give you a lift to the party.”
“Maybe I didn’t want to go to your party,” she said, her temples pounding. The kitchen was silent except for the distant sound of waves clapping against the cottage dock.
“Right. I better be off,” he said. “And for the record, my friend still has her foot.” Vodka in hand, he headed out the door. That should show her, he thought. Although he had no clear idea what point he was trying to make.