“He was patient with me, you know. Didn’t pressure me into anything. I’d gotten really thin, and all my friends were telling me I needed to eat, or worse, that I needed to see a doctor or a shrink. Bror didn’t care about any of that. He was the only person who just seemed to get that I was in pain, and he listened to me—every evening for weeks, it seemed like—and then at the end of the summer he gave me a pile of books he hoped would help bring me clarity, and he never minded that I didn’t read them. The sex was the least memorable thing about that time.”

We stood, watching the divers as they reentered the water, closer to the shore this time. Here and there, I realized, you could see patches of dark red on the rocks, on the grassy banks. Vee was crouched by the side of one of the cabins, examining the wood near the door.

I turned toward Elsa. “Would you be okay with me going to see him?”

“Bror? Sure. You might like him.” She turned my hand over in hers. “Just don’t punish me for decisions I made when I was a kid.”

“I know,” I said. “That was stupid of me. I’m glad you had someone who listened.”

Ridiculous to be jealous over something so far away.

Twelve

The three police officers who stopped us were kind and showed us nothing but respect. They understood, they said, our need to see for ourselves. But Vee could not be here on the island. None of us could. They escorted us back to the boat and shook our hands. “We feel for you,” they each said in turn.

Vee and I sat in our wooden speedboat, holding it in against the slipway, while Elsa stood on the pebbled beach, thigh-deep, holding the transom of the little white boat. Vee was carrying something delicate and soft, folded into her hands, held artfully against the side of her belly. I didn’t think Elsa saw it.

“What’s that, Vee?”

“We don’t need the police to feel for us. We need them to do their jobs.”

The object in her hands glimmered softly.

“Vee, what is that?”

Vee looked at me, guilty, then at her mother.

“Please,” she said gently. “She . . . she wouldn’t understand.”

“Vee,” I said, “I am not a softer touch than your mum.”

“She will freak.”

Elsa shouted. “Cal!”

“Vee,” I said quietly, “do not play us off against each other.”

“Dad, you know she will.”

“No, she won’t.”

“Cal! Now would be good.”

Vee’s eyes flicked toward her mother. “Shouldn’t you go and help her?”

Elsa was standing in the water, arms folded, the boat braced against her thighs.