by Helena Halme
'Are you going to tell me what's going on?'
Ewa's eyes are startlingly dark against her artificially colored blond hair. She always wears bright red lipstick to match her long nails, something Liam used to find irresistible, but now, he thinks, she looks like a painted doll to him. How can you fall out of love—or lust—so quickly? In a heartbeat?
'Nothing. I just decided to cut my holiday short. And for good reason, it seems.' Liam lowers his gaze to his papers again, but Ewa isn't shifting.
'I'm not talking about why you are back,' she says, and walks around the desk to stand next to him. He can feel her arm slide along his shoulders and he feels her breast brush the side of his jaw. Her scent of musk and cigarettes is strong and for a moment Liam thinks of her soft belly, of the curve of her back when he makes her climax. Then, his thoughts go to Alicia, his wife, and her eyes, full of sorrow, but also full of love for him.
I hope she still loves me.
I have to be strong.
Liam gets up. His movement forces Ewa to drop her arm.
'Not here, not now,' he says and looks at her.
The woman's eyes are even darker, if that's possible. Great big inky pools, ready to brim over. He feels bad for her, but he never promised her anything. They were always clear on that. No divorce, no declarations of love, just fun. Liam reaches over and takes Ewa's hand. 'Look, we can't carry on. I ... and Alicia, we need to ...' he looks to Ewa for help but the woman is just staring at him with those eyes. She blinks and Liam is afraid a tear will fall from her lashes, but luckily she keeps her composure.
The door to his office opens suddenly and another surgeon, his younger colleague, pops his bald head in. He sees Liam and Ewa standing next to each other, holding hands. 'Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt,' he says and disappears.
Liam drops Ewa's hand and curses under his breath.
Ewa lifts her chin up, then turns on her heels and walks through the door.
Liam sits down again and has only a minute or two to recover before there is another soft knock on the door. Sighing, he says, 'Come in.'
Twenty-Nine
Patrick looks tall and tanned leaning on the bonnet of his car by a small parking lot opposite von Knorring, an old steamer that has been turned into a bar and a restaurant in the East Harbor. His car is just behind a new seafood restaurant on the old concrete jetty. Alicia had spent the morning in the newspaper office, sorting out her next story, about the newly released employment figures on the islands. She could not concentrate on the words, or the figures, and had failed to make any sensible connections that would have provided an interesting thread to the story. Her deadline isn't until the end of the week, so she allows herself to be excited about meeting Patrick. She's wearing a red Marimekko cotton dress that comes just above her knees and a pair of Swedish Hasbeens clogs.
When she was getting dressed at the sauna cottage that morning, she noticed that her daily swim in the sea had made her legs and arms firmer and her skin bronzed. The dress fell attractively over her firm bum, and she had decided to wear her best underwear, bought at an expensive boutique before ... she shook her head to stop her thoughts going to Stefan. Instead she found the matching shoes and made sure she had her phone on. There were no other messages from Patrick and Alicia had only replied to the last one with a thumbs-up emoji.
The Island life suits me, she smiled, looking at herself in the full-length mirror Uffe had installed in the cottage at her mother's behest.
In the car on the way into town, Hilda remarked, 'I like that dress on you.'
Alicia tried to ignore the question in Hilda's voice, and just smiled at her mother.
Alone in the sauna cottage, Alicia had made up her mind to meet Patrick today, nothing more. She wanted to find out why he had kissed her, and whether their connection was real, and not just the result of too much alcohol and the Midsummer spirit. Alicia remembered how as a girl, she and her friends would place wildflowers underneath their pillows on Midsummer Eve. According to old Nordic folktales, if you did this, you would dream of your future lover on that magical night.
What nonsense!
But when Patrick talked about his daughter's near-death, it felt as if he'd been describing the torment she feels over Stefan. Of course, he can't know exactly how it is, because his daughter survived, but ... Alicia feels as if Patrick is the only person who can understand her. She knows seeing him is wrong, but what if they became just friends?
* * *
Alicia can see Patrick watching her as she walks along the road running parallel to the harbor. There are a few people milling around, lowering their sails or setting up to leave the jetty. The outside tables in the Club Marin café are all taken up by sailors and tourists, enjoying their drinks and talking loudly. There are a few parked cars beside the walkway. The Finns and Russians dock their sailing boats on this side of the Mariehamn peninsula, and the harbor is full. Hoping she doesn't bump into anyone she knows, Alicia quickens her step. She is a few minutes late—on purpose. But now that she is here, she can't wait to see him.
There is a slight wind, which makes the rigging of the sailing boats rattle against the masts. Alicia brushes a few strands of hair away from her face and tries not to run toward the man who is waiting for her. As she gets closer, something about how he moves from one foot to another and fidgets with the leather strap of his bag, indicates that he too is eager to touch her. She can hear the blood pulse in her head, and for a moment feels faint.
She stops two paces from where he is standing. She can smell his scent.
He looks sideways, checking for other people, but no one seems to notice them. The seafood restaurant is full, as is von Knorring. Even the old harbor hut, which is now a bicycle hire place, has a line outside. High season in Mariehamn.
'Come here,' Patrick says but he does the opposite, closing the small distance between them and taking Alicia into his arms. He plants his lips on hers and she relaxes into his kiss.
'God, I've missed you,' Patrick says when at last they manage to release each other.
Alicia can't speak. She nods, looking into Patrick’s blue eyes, committing them to memory. She now realizes that she could never just be friends with him. This feels right, this is where she wants to be, with this man who understands her pain. She is at peace yet anxious at the same time, certain and doubting, happy and afraid. But not guilty anymore. How can you feel remorse when you have found someone so precious; someone you can find a safe harbor with?
'I have a boat; we can take it out and find a place for a picnic?'
Patrick pulls something out of his shoulder bag and reveals the neck of a bottle of red wine.
'Sounds good,' Alicia says through the hammering of her heart. She is trying to calm her breathing, and to fight the urge to touch Patrick again. But she knows it's dangerous; anyone in the busy harbor could see them. Besides, she knows she mustn't appear needy. But Patrick also seems paralysed; he's just standing in front of her now, smiling.
'It's down there, shall we go? I have an extra wind breaker and a pair of trousers for you onboard if you get cold out on the water.'
'You've thought of everything,' Alicia says. Still she isn't moving.
'I'm delighted to see you,' Patrick says. His expression is soft, but Alicia can see desire in his eyes. She feels color rise to her face.
'Me too.'
Patrick makes a move as if to kiss her again, but Alicia takes a step back and puts a hand up. 'I don't think we should ...'
Patrick's smile disappears for a moment and Alicia wants to take him into her arms. She shouldn't have reminded him of their hopeless situation. Because that's what it surely is, impossible?
And wrong.
But suddenly his lips smile and he guides Alicia toward the wooden boardwalk, which she passed on her way from the newspaper office. 'It's the fourth jetty along from here,’ he says.
As they walk toward the rows of boats, Patrick leans on Alicia and whispers in her ear, 'Just wait
until we get onboard.'
Desire rises up in Alicia as if an army of ants had begun crawling down her spine. She turns and lifts her eyes to him. 'You have to catch me first,' she says and starts skipping down the wooden walkway. She knows full well he can't follow her at the same pace without it looking as though they are a couple and playing some kind of lovers' game. Alicia doesn't know what excuse he has given Mia for this outing, but she doesn’t care. If this afternoon is all they have together, she is going to enjoy every minute of it.
Thirty
As they pass the first jetty, jutting out of the broad walk, they see a couple wearing matching white sailing jackets having coffee onboard a sailing boat. Alicia nods to them and smiles, and they nod back, unsmiling. 'Finns, why do they always have to be so serious!' She remembers Liam exclaim on more than one occasions. She brushes away any thoughts of her uncaring, cheating husband, and glances at Patrick, who is keeping his head down.
Did he know them?
The islands are small and everybody knows everyone else. What's more, the Erikssons are like celebrities in Åland, but she hopes Patrick isn't as well-known as his wife and father-in-law. Alicia, at least, didn't know him by sight before. And judging by the way she was talking about Patrick before the interview, her mother hadn’t been aware of his connection to Mia Eriksson either. Otherwise she would have mentioned it, Alicia is sure. He's from Sweden, after all, and has never lived on the islands. There are no schoolfriends who could pop up from anywhere. As Alicia watches him walk along the second jetty, she wonders why Patrick doesn't seem to be concerned about being seen? It was a risk to kiss by the beach during the Midsummer party, and now, meeting up in the middle of town, where anyone driving past could recognize them, is careless, if not foolhardy. Is he doing this to hurt someone? Mia? His father-in-law?
Oh God, what am I getting myself into?
Patrick's boat is moored about halfway down one of the jetties. To Alicia, 'Mirabella', as it says on the hull, looks like a medium-sized sailing boat. She imagines it was expensive, but then she knows nothing about boats. Having lived most of her life on the islands, she feels slightly embarrassed about her ignorance, so makes no comment about the vessel.
She watches Patrick lean down and step onboard, hoping her body, which is aching to touch him, doesn't betray her desire. When he turns to help her with his hand, the touch of his fingers sends another jolt through her. His hand is warm, and she holds onto it even when she's standing safely on the wooden decking.
Finally, Patrick lets go. 'You can get changed in there.' With a slight movement of his head, he indicates a hole between two seats. The boat has a large steering wheel in the middle of the stern.
'Sure,' Alicia says. 'Where are we going?'
Patrick smiles, 'Not too far, but far enough.'
Alicia is certain she has blushed under Patrick's gaze. Standing so close to him in a confined space is torture. She inhales his particular scent of pine needles and leather.
'The galley is below, and there's also a loo.' Patrick hands her a pile of clothes and picks up a life jacket from a cabinet. Alicia steps through an opening, which takes her below to a cabin with a seating area arranged along the bulkhead. It's clean and tidy without any visible signs of family. As she turns around to perch herself on the leather seat, she sees through another opening a double bunk made up with white sheets. Her heart quickens at the sight of the bed. Although there are no visible signs of anyone ever having been onboard, she wonders if this is where Patrick sleeps with Mia. Her heart is racing.
Calm down, you knew what you were doing when you kissed him on Midsummer's Eve. And when you agreed to meet him again. This is what you want.
Alicia realizes the boat is new; there is a faint scent of furniture polish and the leather on the white seats is hardly worn. No children have been playing here, or eating at the teak table, which has a perfect shine. The woodwork in the hull above the seating and the cabinets is gleaming.
How much does a boat like this cost?
Suddenly Alicia hears the roar of the engine and she can feel the deck below her move. There is a rocking motion and she quickly puts on the sailing jacket Patrick has given her. Ignoring the trousers, which look too large anyway, she adds the life jacket, then climbs the few steps out of the cabin and up into the daylight.
'Sit down,' Patrick says, nodding at the seat on the side of the steering wheel. Not looking at her but concentrating on maneuvering the boat out of the harbor, he points toward a coolbox behind Alicia. 'There's wine and beer in there. I'll have a Karjala.'
Holding onto the side of the boat, Alicia sees there's champagne and a rather good Sauvignon Blanc, plus several bottles of beer in the bottom. She smiles. She's certain the champagne is meant for her. He said he'd remember how much she loves the stuff. Alicia opens up two bottles of beer, hands one to Patrick and takes a sip out of the other as she sits back down. She finds a pair of sunglasses in her bag and watches as they pass the von Knorring restaurant boat moored at the end of the old concrete jetty, and then on toward the open sea.
* * *
'This is nice,' Alicia says, raising her voice above the roar of the engine.
Patrick reaches his hand across the space between them and squeezes her knee. 'I've been thinking of nothing else but you for the last three days.'
'I meant the boat,' Alicia replies with a smile.
Patrick presses her leg once more and also grins, 'Cheeky.' He removes his hand and slows the engine down as they approach the Sjoland canal.
'I didn't know we were coming this way,' Alicia says. 'I think I might need to go down below.'
Patrick looks over to her. 'What do you mean?’
‘What if my mum or Uffe, or someone from the farm sees me in your boat?’
Patrick’s smile fades. He replies to Alicia in a dry tone, ‘Just keep your glasses on, I'm sure you'll be fine.'
They pass the canal in silence, following the three other boats that had been in the line for the swing bridge to open. Alicia wonders why he is annoyed at her. She was trying to protect them both, surely? If their affair—if that's what this is going to be, an affair?—came to light, Patrick would be the one to lose the most, wouldn't he? Marriage to the richest family in the islands must have its benefits, surely? So why would he not care if Alicia was seen in his boat. Is she here just to make Mia jealous?
Alicia looks at Patrick's profile. His straw blond hair has been mussed up by the swirling sea breeze and his lips are in a straight line. Paler laughter lines are visible along the side of his mouth. The white polo shirt under a navy sailing jacket brings out his bronzed skin. His chin is clean-shaven, but she can see a few pale hairs pushing through. No cuts today, she notices. She wants to run her fingers along that chin, feeling the rough bristles against her palm.
'That's where I am,' Alicia says when they are on the open sea. Patrick has put the sail up and the boat rocks gently from side to side as they are moved along by the strengthening wind. She points at her sauna cottage and the jetty, from where she takes her morning (and sometimes) afternoon swims. The jetty, with Uffe's rowing boat tied to it, looks tiny from this distance. The green wooden building is barely visible between the reeds in front and the thicket of pine trees behind the building. Uffe and Hilda's white house, standing high beyond the potato fields, is more visible from this far. In the distance, Alicia can see a red tractor working on one of Uffe's fields. She wonders if her stepfather is driving the vehicle. She’s sure no one would recognize them at this distance, but she wonders what he would he say if he knew what she was doing?
But what does Uffe know? He has no idea what Alicia's life is really like. He's never been a father. He's never lost a son.
'Good, I can drop you off there later,' Patrick says as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Once again Alicia wonders what he's thinking. Wouldn't it look odd to Uffe and Hilda if they saw her being dropped off by Patrick? In a flash sailing boat like this? She looks at him, but he
is concentrating on the water and steering. Suddenly he runs along the deck and indicates for Alicia to duck. With great skill he moves the sail to the other side and they change course.
Thirty-One
The little island Patrick chooses for their picnic is uninhabited and looks barely bigger than one of Uffe's potato fields. Patrick drives his boat to a small cove, and after turning off the motor, expertly floats the vessel toward the gently sloping rockface. Before the hull hits anything, he jumps onto land with a rope in his hand. He puts his foot out to soften the blow as the vessel makes contact with the rock, and then moves the boat sideways. There is no mooring as such, but a single ring attached to a pole where Patrick hooks the rope and secures the boat. Alicia is impressed. She's been on the water with friends and Uffe, of course (her mother is afraid of water and doesn't even swim in the sea), but she knows that to maneuver an expensive boat on your own when there are no jetties, is not easy. It requires experience.
'How did you know about this place?' Alicia asks, as she gazes at the cool box that Patrick has brought out.
'It belongs to a friend,' Patrick says.
He places a blanket on the rocks and hands Alicia two glass flutes; he begins opening the bottle of champagne. The pop makes them both laugh, and they down the first two glasses, full of froth, in a few mouthfuls. Patrick refills the flutes and settles himself down beside Alicia. As he stretches out, supporting himself with his elbows, Alicia sees the short sleeves of his polo shirt strain over his muscles.