Chapter 36
A loud knock awakened Ella, and she sat up groggily.
It had been a night of tossing and turning.
She figured it was probably Leif knocking, as he had promised to bring her news about Erik.
She combed her fingers through her tangled hair as she ran down the stairs and opened the door.
Her smile disappeared at the sight of Erik standing there.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you here?” He opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut and winced at her. “Did you bring me more fish? Because I’ve had my fill. Thank you.”
“I have no excuse,” he said, as his gaze shifted to the ivy creeping over the cottage walls.
“No kidding! How dare you? Why would you even come here?”
Erik tilted his head up to the morning sky and squinted against the drizzle. “I want to explain. Can I come in?”
“I’m all out of scotch.”
“I shouldn’t have nicked your liquor either; I’ll replace it.”
“Don’t bother. Just tell me why.”
“Please . . . this is deeply uncomfortable for me,” Erik stammered and wrung his hands. “This might not be comfortable for you either . . .” His voice trailed off. She was glaring at him, and she nudged her chin toward the dock as if telling him to leave.
“Look, Ella, I can explain. I’d like to do it properly and have this conversation indoors.
” She just stood there, so he added, “I owe you an explanation. I . . . I . . . was hoping to make you leave. To scare you off. I wanted the past to stay in the past, and you were asking too many questions. Plus it was starting to look like you were planning to stay permanently, what with you and Leif all lovey-dovey.”
“You’re off to a great start—I didn’t hear an apology in there anywhere! And you’re lying, anyway—you’ve been rude to me from the moment you saw me at Lyng?r Grocery, well before I asked any questions!” She glared at him again and moved to shut the door.
“Please. Hear me out. It’s important.” He motioned beyond her shoulder, at the foyer.
She couldn’t believe this man was her father.
She stared at his square face, freckled with age spots, and the jut of his lantern jaw, and saw nothing familiar there.
She flicked a thick lock of copper hair behind her ear.
Did he know she was his daughter? Curiosity won over anger, and she stepped aside to let him pass. “OK, but make it short.”
He brushed past her and stopped to unlace his hiking shoes, setting them next to her boots. He pulled up his wool socks. He was painstakingly drawing out each task. She followed him into the kitchen and watched as he ran his blunt fingers over the scratched counter.
“What?” she asked with some impatience.
“Old ghosts,” he murmured with a faraway look in his eye.
“What was she to you?” Ella touched the wooden bear in her pocket and waited for him to admit to her who he was . . . unless he was trying to keep it from her . . . or maybe he didn’t know.
Erik said nothing. He removed his fisherman cap and scrunched it as he walked into the sitting room and paused in front of the hutch painted with tulips and scrolls. His eyes flicked over the sewing machine.
“That belonged to Sara,” he said with a solemn nod. He noticed Ella’s sweater draped over the back of the rocking chair and moved to examine it, hovering his fingers over the sleeves where she’d stitched finches and flowers—and then snapped his hand back as if the sweater could burn him.
“You sew?” he asked.
“No, I glue bobbles on hats.”
He let out a sad chuckle. “You sound just like her.” He sank down into the rocking chair, then hunched forward and rubbed his legs.
Ella didn’t care about this stranger or what he thought. He was a bully, a father only on paper. She only knew that her desire to hear about her mom was fiercer now than ever before, and it took all her self-control to play it cool.
“How did you meet my mom?” she asked.
“Sara was sixteen. She dropped off one of Hilda’s skiffs for repair at the boatyard.
The moment I saw her, it was as if my heart was nailed to the deck.
But she was way out of my league. The next summer, I ran into her at the hotel bar .
. . her voice was smooth as butter, and she told the best jokes.
I’d never laughed that much, and I let my guard down.
We drank too much, and . . . I don’t know .
. . my memory of that night is blurry. But I do remember that it felt like we’d known each other our entire lives.
I’d never been able to talk to anyone like I talked to her.
Over the next two years, I saw her when she came back in the summers.
Each time I see you now, I think of her.
I don’t know what to do with those memories.
” His sad eyes moved to Sara’s sketchbook on the table.
“When did you see her last?” Ella asked.
He was silent for a beat, then said, “The night of the accident.”
“You mean the night Leif’s father crashed his boat?”
Erik finally looked her straight in the eye. “It wasn’t him. I was at the helm.”
Ella sank down on the sofa. “But everyone says Leif’s father was steering!”
“No. I was, and I killed all four of them.” He was rocking in her chair, rubbing harder at his legs. Agony filled his watery eyes.
“I . . . don’t understand,” she said, her disbelief catching in her voice.
Erik shifted in his seat to turn away from Ella, and the rocking chair scraped against the floor. Cupping his head in his hands, he stumblingly began to tell the story of that awful night.
“Two of my navy buddies were visiting from up north. That’s where they lived, and I, uh, had promised to show them around Lyng?r.
Your mother had asked to speak to me alone, but I showed up here, at Ringpynten, with my friends and asked her to come out with us instead.
” He paused to run his meaty hands over his face.
“Yeah?” Ella asked. There was a challenge in the word, an unspoken barb directed at him for not honoring Sara’s wishes.
“Well, I suppose I was afraid that she might’ve wanted to break up with me . . . and I was excited to see her, but . . . I didn’t want to be alone with her . . . you know, give her the chance to end things between us.”
Ella resisted the temptation to land a well-timed insult—barely—and instead asked, “What made you think she wanted to end things?”
“Well, Sara seemed tense that night. But really . . . she hadn’t answered any of my letters.
We used to write to each other when she went home .
. . but that year, nothing. I tried calling her at their apartment in Oslo a couple of times.
But Hilda answered and told me to stop calling.
She thought I was too . . . blue collar and not educated enough to marry her daughter. She wanted more for Sara.”
Ella understood how Mormor’s words could sting.
Erik chuckled, but it wasn’t a real laugh; the sound was sad and hollow.
He continued to rock nervously in the chair as he spoke.
“This is so hard . . . but I’ve already started, and I owe you this much, at least .
. .” His voice trailed off again. He glanced out the window at the gray sky.
“That tragic night, I pushed for us to head out in Bjorn’s boat right away.
Like I said, I was glad she was there, but also relieved that we were in a group.
I just wanted to have a good time, and we drank way too much, way too fast. Bjorn could barely stand up to pilot his own boat, so I took the helm.
It had been a cloudy day but there was no rain in the forecast, so I was surprised to see storm clouds on the horizon—but I was confident I could handle it.
In less than an hour, though, the water turned rough .
. . the swells beating against land—against us. It was bad. We didn’t stand a chance.”
He choked back a sob at the memory and kept his eyes fixed on Sara’s sewing machine.
“How can you live with yourself? You’re a coward and a liar!” Ella sputtered. She could hardly stand to look at him.
“I thought my secret was locked away for good, but believe me, I’ve paid a heavy price for being dishonest.”
“Not heavy enough,” she said firmly, with narrowed eyes.
“I love that boy as if he were my own flesh and blood—now he won’t even talk to me!
I can’t lose him too.” Erik’s voice wobbled, and he gestured at Sara’s sewing machine.
“She’d be livid with me, for what I did to her cottage.
And to you.” He looked at Ella and took a shaky breath.
“I’m sorry for everything. You will never know just how sorry I am. ”
At last, the apology. A chill cut through Ella as she looked out the window at the dark sea. As the last person to see her mother alive, he still had information she wanted, and she knew this could be her only opportunity to ask him questions. She let everything else go.
“How old was my mom, and how come no one knew she was on the boat?”
“She had just turned nineteen. It was off-season, early June. Bjorn and my friends and I were drinking in the boatyard, and she left a message on the answering machine there. If I hadn’t checked my messages, I would’ve missed her . . . she’d still be alive.”
“Wait a minute, go back—I don’t understand. I thought—”
Erik shook his head gravely. “She’d come to Lyng?r spontaneously that night, to see me. She said she had something to tell me. I don’t know how she explained that to Hilda, but whatever story that was, I doubt it was the truth. You already know that Hilda didn’t approve of me.”
“Hilda could spot a rotten egg anywhere.”
“Right,” he allowed, and shifted in his seat. “I can see we had no business being on the water that night. I tried to grab your mum before she fell overboard but I wasn’t fast enough. She hit the rocks and went under.”