Instead, she was talking with her grandmother. Who had sent the photos.
“Did my father contact you or did you contact him?”
“I wrote him.”
There was no reason to be upset by this answer, but Mel was. When she had found the photos, they had opened up the possibility that her father had come looking for her. That he had cared for her. This was the piece of evidence she had been waiting for since she was four years old. Her hopes were laughably small, and he still wouldn’t fill them. The truth only made the sting of her grandmother’s words more acute. She was better off without hope.
Her grandmother remained silent. Mel was done with this conversation, with this topic, with everything to do with her father. But when her grandmother spoke again, Mel was too tired to stop her.
“I hear what you’re asking me. He might have asked me for some sort of contact himself, but he knew how I felt about him. I never trusted him. But I also knew how hard it was on your mother not to have her own father around—that was my choice, my fault. So I wrote Björn, and he asked for me to send pictures of you. I kept hoping that your mother would finally come to her senses and see she was doing the same thing to you as I did to her.”
Her grandmother had never seemed like the type for regret, but this conversation suggested there was plenty about her that Mel didn’t know.
“Grandma, why did you leave him?”
It was the question that had lingered in their relationship, one she had asked too many times to count. But never once had Mel gotten a satisfying answer. The line was quiet so long that Mel wasn’t even sure her grandmother was still on the other end.
“Your grandfather wouldn’t have been faithful,” her grandmother finally said. “And that would have hurt too much. I figured I’d be better off leaving him before he hurt me too bad.”
“Did you make the right choice?” Mel whispered.
“I don’t know,” her grandmother said. “I don’t know.”
In her grandmother’s voice, Mel heard the pain of that tender wound splitting open again. All these years, her grandmother had carried this with her, and Mel had never seen it.
Mel swallowed, not sure how much more of the conversation her grandmother could take.
“Is that why my mother sent my father away?”
“Maybe. But there are so many ways to be hurt by someone you love.”
Mel winced at the truth of that statement.
“This conversation is getting expensive for you, Mel. We can talk more about this when you get back.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “And thanks.”
She had more than enough to think about already.
“Be careful, Mel,” her grandmother added, her gravelly voice back to normal. “Your mother won’t react well to this topic if you ask her.”
“Don’t worry. She’s the last person I want to talk to right now.”
It was only after Mel hung up that she realized she had forgotten to ask the other question: If her mother wasn’t the woman in her father’s love poems, who was it? The deadline for the first draft of her father’s biography was only a few weeks away, and she was nowhere near done. His journals had filled in the holes in her outline, so she knew the details of her father’s life—all except one. But that one detail seemed to be at the center of his life, the factor that had determined his course. Could she turn in a manuscript of his story with only a hunch about who the woman was?
She no longer had much of a choice.
But there was one more thing she wanted to do before she left the realm of Internet access. Quickly, she typed in some of Henrik’s personal information. After scrolling through a few pages of results, she found what she had been looking for. His ex-wife. And she was everything Mel had imagined and worse. Dark, red hair. Deep, beautiful eyes. Compelling. Everything Mel was not.
But it didn’t matter. No matter what happened with Henrik, she had to be back in Massachusetts to meet with her editor at the end of August. And if the manuscript was accepted, there would be talks and the travel to meet various people in the field sometime in the future. Writing the biography was what she had built her life on; it’s what she had wanted. But for the first time, the end result didn’t look so sweet. Even if she returned to Sweden after she finished, her summer island world would be gone.
Chapter 19
Mel turned the corner of the last aisle of the little grocery store. Her cart was half-full, probably already containing more than she and Henrik could comfortably carry, but Henrik hadn’t mentioned it. He seemed to be content to just absently browse the shelves with his arm around her hip.
His thumb had found its way under her shirt and was gently caressing her skin, distracting her from her list. She looked up at this sexy man, all summer tan and deep green eyes. She wanted to kiss him badly—here, in the middle of the condiments aisle. Though her knowledge of Swedish culture was nominal, she was pretty sure the other customers would frown upon the kind of kiss she had in mind.
“You’re not buying anything?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“When I pick up my mother tomorrow, she’ll want to stop at the store.”
Mel could feel her forehead crease.
“So you made this trip just for me?”
Henrik looked surprised.
“Of course,” he said softly.
His other hand brushed her cheek, and he gave her a slow kiss. She could see a hint of sadness on his face.
“It’s our last day together for a bit,” he whispered, resting his head on her forehead. “I don’t care what we do.”
He kissed her again, this time a little harder. Then he broke it off with a chuckle. So much for following Swedish cultural norms.
“Actually, I do have a few ideas, though this is a little too public for them.”
Mel smiled. The intensity of their encounter on the boat seemed to have cleared the air, leaving room for the side of him she wanted more of.
But his mother was coming tomorrow. She had felt this day coming for a long time, mostly from the perspective of her book project. Now it occurred to her that their little world, so newly established, was about to be disturbed. Mel understood Henrik’s tenderness. Their relationship—it was a relationship now, wasn’t it?—had grown in the greenhouse of her cabin, apart from others, but it was hardly strong enough to live anywhere else. Especially not if they solved every argument with sex.
Mel looked around her. They were currently in the middle of a grocery store, so sex wasn’t an option right now. This was probably her best chance to bring up the issue that still hovered in her mind, despite Henrik’s idea of a resolution in the cabin of the boat.
Mel stopped her grocery cart in the middle of the coffee section and turned to him.
“Henrik, we need to be able to have discussions without you ordering me around,” she said.
His hand dropped from her waist, and he ran his hand through the mess of his hair, with little effect.
“Why are you bringing this up now?”
“It seemed like a good time.”
Henrik glanced around at the customers passing by. He raised his eyebrows in question but didn’t say anything, so Mel continued.
“These weeks here with you have been wonderful. Better than I…” she let her voice trail off. Better than I thought possible.
And this was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? Henrik fulfilled wants she didn’t even know she had, but bundled together in this sexy package were also all her worst fears. Mel shook her head, trying to keep her thoughts on the conversation. She tried again.
“I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I flew over here for the summer, but it certainly wasn’t this. I’ve never—” She stopped. Could she even say this? She was going to try. “I’ve never been this close to someone. And I’ve only just met you.”
Henrik frowned a little.
“But I’m not the person you wa
nt me to be,” he said dryly.
No, that wasn’t the problem.
“You are the person I want, right now. But as soon as we run into conflict, another part of you comes out, a part that hits me where I’m most vulnerable.”
Henrik frowned deeper.
“But that is who I am, Melanie,” he said. “It’s how I’ve always been, and it’s not going to change.”
Mel shook her head. She turned so that their bodies were facing each other, only inches apart. She picked up his hands and placed them back on her waist. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh as she stroked his cheek with her fingertips. She felt his thumbs move slowly up and down her waist.
“Isn’t this also you, right now?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” he said, but his voice was doubtful.
She ran her fingers through his hair as she spoke these words and then pulled his mouth to hers. His fingers stilled against her.
“Does it matter?” he said, his voice full of sadness. “When you’ve finished writing your book, you’re going back to Massachusetts.”
“I don’t want to think about leaving right now.”
“I don’t want to, either,” he said, but his voice was still heavy.
Mel rested her cheek against his shoulder. The heat of their bodies travelled through the layers of clothes. There was nothing else like this. Mel pressed her lips against him and buried her head into his neck, breathing in deeply. There was no salt water on his skin this time, only the intoxicating smell of Henrik.
He groaned, and she felt the familiar pull of their bodies together. Would she ever stop wanting this man?
Then she felt him laugh, and he gently pried their bodies apart.
“Did you bring up the topic in the grocery store as some sort of challenge for me?” he asked in a deep rumble of chuckles. “To see if I could have this discussion without sex?”
Mel gave a little snort.
“I guess that was the idea, though you might have noticed it’s just as much a challenge for me.”
Chapter 20
Mel curled her toes over the end of the dock and took in her surroundings. The water was still except for the ripples from Henrik’s movement. She looked over to the dock of the next cottage and saw Alice, reading a book. Alice looked up, and Mel waved. Then she looked back out at Henrik, her sexy, complicated Henrik, waiting for her a little ways out.
She took a deep breath and dove. The water hit her hard, taking away all thoughts and leaving her with only one feeling: cold. Freezing cold. Her body lay submerged, suspended under water, for a moment before she remembered how to move.
Yes, move.
Frantically, she kicked and flailed her arms and legs until she finally burst to the surface, gasping.
It took a moment for her to register Henrik, right beside her. The panic on his face wasn’t easing.
She was panting too hard to say anything, and if she didn’t start swimming, she wasn’t going to make it back to the dock. She nodded at Henrik and then sprinted back towards shore, arms clumsy and numb. Her hands grasped for the ladder and finally found it. The burst of energy that the cold had given her was waning, and her limbs felt shaky. Mel pulled herself out of the water and hobbled over for her towel. She could feel Henrik right behind her.
She wrapped herself in the towel, and he pulled his own around both of them, holding her into him tightly. Her legs were about to give out on her.
“I s-s-should sit down.”
Mel’s teeth had begun to chatter, stretching out her words. Henrik held her arms and eased her down so she was sitting between his knees, resting back against his chest. His towel formed a little cocoon around them, with the sun warm on her head. For once, there were no clouds in the sky, only endless reflections of blue all the way to the horizon.
“You didn’t come up,” he whispered in her ear.
“It was colder than I thought it would be,” she said. Her voice still sounded giddy, and her body wouldn’t stop shaking.
“It’s the rain,” he said, rubbing her arms.
His muscles tensed around her, and his voice sounded strained. She felt his lips in her hair. Mel untangled herself a little from the web of towels and turned to look at him.
“I’m fine,” she said and kissed the curve of his jaw.
He closed his eyes. She kissed him again, and this time, he leaned down to meet her lips. His mouth was warm and salty on hers.
“I thought you wouldn’t come up,” he said, his lips almost touching hers. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling that kind of fear.”
Mel nodded. She leaned her head against Henrik’s warm chest and concentrated on the rise and fall of his breath. If she only concentrated on this feeling, if she didn’t let herself think about the future, it was perfect.
There were footsteps on the dock behind them. Mel lifted her head and looked over Henrik’s shoulder. Alice was walking toward them, smiling. Mel made a move to get up, but Henrik held onto her and kissed her neck before he let go. She wrapped her towel tightly around her and walked down the dock to meet her friend.
Alice was wearing a towel and an oversized hoodie, and her long red hair lay in thick, wet ropes over her shoulders. She was beautiful, Mel thought, with thick lashes that shaded deep dark eyes. The same kind of elegant beauty as Henrik’s ex-wife’s. Certainly this thought would occur to Henrik as well, right? The idea left her both cold and surprised—how did her mind go there so easily?
“Hi Mel,” Alice said. “Sorry to interrupt. Jonas tells me that it’s very un-Swedish to keep walking over and disturbing you.”
Mel waved off the comment with her hand.
“I don’t know anything about living here in Sweden. Just ask him,” she said, pointing over her shoulder in Henrik’s direction.
As she said this, Mel heard Henrik’s footsteps behind her and felt his hand slide around her waist.
“I think you’re doing just fine,” he said in a low voice, close to her ear.
“I’m Alice,” her friend said, offering her hand. “You’re Henrik, the guy who came with the cabin?”
That got a laugh out of Henrik. He shook her hand.
“My place is on the other side of the island,” he explained.
“Jonas just bought this cabin this spring. It’s beautiful out here.”
Mel nodded. The island was more than beautiful. It had opened up parts of her she had thought were closed forever. She’d never meet her father, but starting to understand him provided the relief she hadn’t known she needed. And then there was Henrik, the last man she would have imagined herself with. His arm tightened around her, as if Henrik could read her thoughts.
“I wanted to invite you two over this evening,” said Alice, “dinner and drinks on our back porch? Jonas has some questions for you, too, Henrik.”
Mel glanced up at Henrik. It was their last day together before his mother came. And as much as she wanted to do something so normal, so typical with Henrik, to try to just be a regular couple together, she wanted even more to be alone with him for this last evening.
“Tonight doesn’t work. But stop over tomorrow and we can plan something.”
Henrik raised his eyebrows, and Mel caught a hint of a smile.
“Sounds great,” said Alice. “I’ve been curious to see what a poet’s cabin looks like.”
She waved and walked off the dock.
Mel watched as Alice continued along the rocky shore back to the trail up to her own cabin—or house, as it would be more aptly called. When she looked back up at Henrik, he was staring down at her.
“She looks a little like your ex-wife,” Mel said, trying to keep her voice light. “I was cyber-snooping on you in town, you know.”
The smile left Henrik’s face. He looked quizzically at her.
“Why did you say that?”
Mel shrugged, though she knew exactly why she had said it. And so did Henrik.
“Have I done anything to indicate that I’m interested in another woman besides you?”
Slowly, Mel shook her head.
“I’m not sure where you got that idea, but it’s way off base,” he said.
His voice was quiet, and he frowned. Then he shifted in front of her, towering over her. One of his hands found her rear and pulled her against him, as if determined to prove his point. The other hand tipped her head so she was looking straight up at him. Her arms were caught in her towel, but he didn’t let her free. Instead, he bent down for a long, hot kiss that awakened every inch of her.
He drew her in, and everything else—her book deadline, her father’s deception, their own struggles together—fell away, leaving her only with sensation. She squirmed against him, trying to get closer, and she heard a moan ride from deep inside. My God, did he want to lay her down on the dock? At that moment, Mel didn’t care.
Then Henrik pulled back and rested his forehead on hers, their lips almost touching, panting into each other.
“I don’t know how to make this more clear to you, Melanie,” he whispered. “There’s no one else. Just you.”
THE EVENING LIGHT shone through the cabin and onto the bed where they lay, their bodies wrapped around each other. Mel rested in the warmth of Henrik’s arms, breathing in the scent of his skin in deep, long breaths.
“I won’t see you for a few days,” she said, her lips on his skin.
Mel felt him nod against the top of her head.
“But I will meet your mother, right?” she asked.
Henrik was silent for a long time, long enough to make her think he wasn’t going to answer at all. She could feel his body tense against hers, and he held her even tighter.
Finally, he said, “It’s not a good idea.”
“But this is important for me. For my book.”
“That’s the problem,” he said. His arms loosened from around her, and the cool air fell into the space between them. “This isn’t just about your book. Finally she’s coming to the island, after so many years. I’m not going to…”
Stockholm Diaries, Melanie Page 18