Chapter 30 #2
He shifted his wide shoulders against the chair without opening his eyes. He had been like a refuge for her, a safe haven from this sometimes-cruel Norwegian island. She felt like she belonged—here, at least, in his home. Could he make it any harder to leave?
She scanned the shelves filled with art books and novels about the sea.
On one shelf was a framed photograph of two men and a small boy with skis buckled to their feet.
They stood side by side on a mountain of sparkling snow and grinned broadly at the camera, as if nothing could outshine that winter-wonderland moment.
She recognized one of the men as a decades-younger Erik.
The other man rested his hand on the boy’s head.
The boy mirrored the man with his prominent eyebrows, deep-set eyes, and full mouth.
Her chest ached in sympathy for Leif’s loss of his father.
Leif stirred in his chair and yawned. “Power naps are the best, but you should have woken me up.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “I just now came downstairs. You looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to wake you. I was looking at that photograph.” She pointed. “You’re adorable.”
“Yes, that’s me, with Erik and my dad. I was four years old.”
“Four years old and out skiing?”
“Well, they say Norwegians are born with skis on their feet.”
“Yes, you guys look happy. You’re the spitting image of your father. Bjorn, right?”
“Yup. Everyone who knew him says that I remind them of him. I’m not sure that’s a good thing . . . but I don’t want to think about Bjorn.”
Leif always looked sad when he spoke about his father, and at that moment he seemed especially miserable.
Ella clasped her hands together. “I’ve been doing some thinking . . . why don’t we hold off on talking to Erik. Let’s stay here in the present and forget about the past for a while.” She offered him a heartfelt smile to convey that she was truly OK with that.
“No, Erik is your best bet if you want to find out anything about your mum.”
“But you just said that you don’t want to think about your dad. Remember what Ragnar said, how Sara and Bjorn knew each other? Sadly, they’re both gone, and we’ll never know exactly what their relationship was. How about we let it go and imagine the best?”
“No. We can’t hold off, not anymore we can’t.” Leif stood from the chair.
“Why is finding out about my mother so important to you?”
“Because I have questions of my own. I want the truth too.”
“I understand, and I want that too. But I’m just not sure we’ll find the truth we’re searching for. Everyone’s truth is different. Erik’s. Ragnar’s. Your father’s. Even our own.”
Leif silently gazed around the room, everywhere except directly at Ella. “Listen, I want to be frank with you. I have a theory, a suspicion. Do you want to hear it?”
“Not yet,” she said. “Wait until you know for certain.” He looked troubled, as though that wasn’t the answer he wanted.
Ragnar’s warning came rushing back to Ella—that Leif and others would suffer if she kept asking questions—and she added adamantly, “Assuming, guessing, speculating, whatever—it can be costly.”
He frowned as he gazed at a painting of a shipwreck on the high seas, then hunched his shoulders as if in defeat.
Ella reached for one of his hands and traced her thumb over his fingers.
She leaned her head against his and they stared outside at the rain-pocked channel, and the terns taking flight from the indigo waters and spreading their wings against the wet, oyster-hued sky.
At last, she said, calmly but directly, “I appreciate your wanting to help me, but I’m done poking around. ”
“I don’t understand. Up until now, you’ve been determined to find out whatever you can about your family. Why the change of heart?”
She hesitated. Ragnar hadn’t asked her to keep his advice a secret, and Leif deserved her honesty. She waited until he met her gaze. “Ragnar warned me to quit asking questions. He wants you to stop hurting.”
“Ragnar needs to mind his own business,” Leif snarled.
“Well, we might both discover things we don’t want to know. Why keep pushing it? I don’t want you to pay a price for my curiosity.”
“I don’t want you to pay a price either,” he said. He faced her square-on, his blue eyes kind and earnest. He gently clasped her face and kissed her lips.
“Could you do me a favor and drop it?” she asked and wrapped her arms around him.
“I want to look back on this summer in Norway and be glad for all the wonderful memories. I’m satisfied with what I’ve learned about Sara.
I’ve loved spending time at Ringpynten and seeing the area.
Coming here was one of the best decisions of my life. I met you.”
“I’m so glad I met you too,” he said and kissed her lips again.
“You’re wearing my shirt. It looks good on you.
” He untied the rope belt cinched around her waist and tossed it to the floor.
He gave her ear a playful nip as he picked her up, and she squeezed her thighs around him, causing the hem of the shirt to bunch up around her hips.
He laughed at her. “You’re also wearing my boxers. ”
“Yes, and I’m not the least bit sorry.”
“Good.” His eyes glimmered as he carried her to the couch, and they fell back onto the cushions.