Chapter 40
The wicker picnic basket bumped against Leif’s leg as he and Ella strolled across Kjeholmen Island.
It was only the size of a hockey rink, located a short boat ride away from Lyng?r.
Goats roamed around the lighthouse and caretaker cottage, the only buildings on the weather-battered island.
Dragonflies zipped around the heather, and Ella marveled at the elaborate geometric pattern on their translucent wings.
Leif knew how much they inspired her, and that dragonfly wings would show up somehow on her designs, perhaps in the Leif Collection.
“Striking!” Ella said as she turned her camera on the lighthouse. Leif clasped her arm, keeping her from tripping over stones in the path. She took several shots of the white tower crowned with its red beacon.
“Does anyone live there?” She aimed the lens at the caretaker cottage, its two stone chimneys, and its gable roof. She motioned for Leif to step closer so she could capture him in the shot too. “I’ll mail you pictures of our time together.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Dalla, the lighthouse keeper, lives here on the island. She’s quite an artist and sells her metal sculptures at the art gallery in Ris?r.
It’s near Nina’s sewing shop; I don’t know why I didn’t take you there before.
” He spread a navy quilt on the ground near clusters of wild pansies.
“But if you extend your stay, I’ll bring you to the gallery—I bet you could sell your pictures and embroidery there. ”
“Wow, there are so many artists living in the area. And I’m so happy you introduced me to Nina. I’d love to sell her more of my designs and maybe even collaborate with her on some clothes in the future.”
“Let’s drop by her store tomorrow. Show her some of your clothes and anything else that you think she might be interested in buying.
Maybe you could wear one of those beautiful dresses you made, like the one with the bluebells embroidered on the sleeves.
And you could ask her to introduce you to her sister, the one with the stores in Oslo. ”
Ella slid her camera into her bag. “It’s tempting, but you know I can’t.”
“Yes, I know. You need to leave,” he said. “I get it.” He looked crushed, so she slid onto his lap, slipped her arms around him, and nestled her face into the crook of his neck.
After they’d eaten, Leif pushed aside the cheese-and-fruit platter and held up a candy bar. “Dessert?” He broke off a small chunk and placed it on her tongue.
“I love chocolate-covered marzipan!” she said. “Mia introduced it to me.”
“She’s going to miss you . . . so will Inger.” He began cleaning up their picnic, pressing wax paper around the cheese. His heart felt pressed too. He scooted closer so that their legs touched, and he slid his arm around her. “And I am going to miss you, very much.”
“I’ll miss you as well.” Her voice trembled a bit and she focused on an osprey soaring above the lighthouse, until the anguish left her face.
“Stay. Give me more time.”
“What will that solve?”
“Well, I don’t have all the answers,” Leif said as he snapped off a piece of chocolate and pushed it into his mouth.
He’d almost blurted I love you, but he hadn’t said those words in almost thirty years.
He’d last said them to his father. “But I’ve been thinking .
. . why don’t you rent out Ringpynten, and move in with me?
You can turn my shed into an art studio, a sewing shop, whatever you like. Decorate it however you want.”
She stared at her lap, shook her head, and tore the petals from the wild pansies she had gathered. “You’re not making this easy on me, you know, Leif. I’ve only known you two weeks and you’re asking me to change my entire life!”
“The cottage already changed your life . . . but maybe not in the way you thought it would. Perhaps your grandma wanted you to come back to stay all along.”
“Not likely!” She chewed on her cheek. “But it makes me wonder.”
“Good—then say yes.”
She looked away and rubbed her aquamarine pendant and then brushed the petals and baguette crumbs from her skirt. She leaned in closer, kissed his lips, and said, “Let’s enjoy tonight, OK?”
“OK.” He smiled, but he wasn’t going to drop it. “Let’s go to that special place I told you about.”
“I thought the lighthouse was the special place.”
“No,” Leif said. “We have just enough time to get there before we head over to the Propeller.”
“Sounds good,” Ella said, giving him a skeptical look. She wondered if he’d just come up with this special place to stretch out their time together, and she thought she wouldn’t mind if that were the case.
She snapped a few photos of her boots and his blue Converse lined up together on the blanket. A feminine and masculine pair of shoes snuggled together, just like in Sara’s picture. As they walked to Leif’s boat, a cloud passed over the island, casting a shadow over the lighthouse and them.
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Silver ripples danced across the breadth of the ocean as Leif worked the tiller with Ella at his side.
“It’s peaceful out here; it’s like we’re the only two people on earth,” she said. “I’m beginning to understand why you love boating.”
“We’re about to enter the Skagerrak, the strait that separates Norway from Sweden and Denmark. The water may turn a bit rough, but we’re seaworthy.”
The bow hit a wave, and cold mist coated their faces. She inhaled sharply, looking around in alarm. “I forgot my life vest!”
“I saw you left it on the dinghy, and I grabbed it.” He smiled at her reassuringly.
“You did? Thank you!”
“Yes. But it looks like you’re getting comfortable enough on the water to forget about your life preserver. See? You’re turning into salty, seafaring Lyng?r folk, right before my eyes.”
He throttled back the engine, allowing the boat to drift, then fetched her life preserver and two slickers from a bench locker. “Here you go. Soon you’ll have me stowing life vests for everyone on board.”
“That’s actually a good idea,” she said with approval. She put on the slicker over her vest, and then he rolled up her sleeves and guided the zipper to her neck. In the distance, three red poles swayed on the water. Ella pointed at them.
“What are they for?” she asked.
“They mark an underwater ridge formed by glacier activity thousands of years ago. Small boats like mine can anchor there. Deep-keeled boats avoid it. This is the special spot I wanted to show you. My father and I used to fish here, and we always brought coffee and homemade raisin rolls. God, I love this spot. Sometimes I fish here alone and talk to my father. I feel he’s here in spirit. ”
Leif could use a good chat with his father right now, especially now that he knew the truth about the accident. Plus he was in love with Sara Nilsen’s daughter. What would his dad have to say about that?
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, resting her head on his arm.
“I’m thinking there’s nowhere else I would rather be,” he whispered in her ear.
“Smooth talker.”
He laughed and kissed her. As the boat continued to drift, he retrieved a fishing rod and a plastic bucket from mid-deck, asking, “Have you ever fished?”
“Me? No way!” Her brow shot to her hairline.
“Just think of the stories you can bring home.”
“Yes, everyone should have a good fish story. I bet you have hundreds!”
He laughed. “First we troll for mackerel. We can drop them by my house on the way to the Propeller.” He set the pole on the deck, grabbed the rig from the bucket, tied a sinker to the line, and handed her the rig. She studied it as if it were a fascinating puzzle.
“This looks like a kite spool. How do I use it? Should I stand up?”
“The water is a bit rough, so stay seated, but move closer to the gunwale.”
She moved to the far end of the bench. “What now?”
“Face the water.”
He sat down next to her, slid his hands around her waist, and nuzzled her neck.
“You hold each side of the rig, like this.” He folded his hands over hers to show her how.
“Then let out the line like you would a kite. See all those hooks? Be careful not to snag yourself as you release them over the edge.” The rig spun and the line sank into the water.
“If you feel hard tugging, you’ve caught a fish.
Reel in the line, but please—don’t let go of the rig. ”
He moved back to the tiller and gradually brought the engine to one and a half knots. As he steered in a large loop, Ella’s eyes never left the water.
“I felt a tug!” She yelled and let out a giddy laugh. “There it goes again! It’s tugging like crazy—I think I caught one.”
“Pull it in. You’ve got this!”
She reeled fast, and he gave her the thumbs-up and put the engine into neutral, the sun slipping in and out of the clouds. A skinny three-foot fish with a long needle nose skimmed the surface of the water near the stern. She’d never seen anything like it.
“What’s it called?”
“That’s a garfish. It has a green skeleton,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “No way!”
With one deft scoop of the fishnet, Leif brought the garfish into the boat and released it onto the deck. The eel-like creature opened and closed its long jaw, which was full of tiny sharp teeth, and continued to flop around.
“Why did you bring it in here? There’s no way that’s edible.” She took a step back.
“Are you serious? Smoked gar with black pepper. Delicious!”
She wrinkled her nose. “No thanks, I’ll pass.”
He snorted. After whacking the garfish on the head with a pair of pliers, he wiggled the hook from its mouth.
“Poor fish,” she said.
“Don’t worry, he’s already forgotten it.” He put the garfish in the bucket and gestured at the rig. “Like another go?”
She grinned. “Well, it was pretty exciting . . . Let’s catch another good story.”
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