“Of course, they saw it. She was right there under the floorboards.”

“Not her,” Agnet whispers, eyes darting around. “What you carved.”

Our initials inside the heart. No wonder she looks so worried. I shudder to think what her husband would have done had he seen it. How stupid of me.

“No one saw it,” I assure her.

Her shoulders relax. We watch the mermaid lap the pool.

“You should get rid of it, Kaspar. Scratch it out or rip the whole board up. He will kill me if he finds out.”

The thought of destroying our mark will kill me, but I do not tell her this. Agnet has enough to worry about, and seeing how her hands wring, her fear is genuine. No one knows of our trysts in the fishing hut. Her husband would not react kindly were he to learn of it. Like all grooms, he assumed that his bride was as pure as the first snowfall.

“I’ll scratch it out. Don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry.”

There are more gawkers now, ringing the fountain to see the mermaid. All girls, oddly enough. They seem mesmerized.

“I saw a fox do this once,” Agnet says.

“Do what?”

She nods at the sea-maiden going around and around. “My father trapped a fox and tried to tame it. The animal just circled the cage like this, going mad.”

“Did he let it go?”

“No,” she says, gathering her shawl about her. “The fox refused to eat or take water. It died after a few days.”

8

8

THE WOOD IS THICK, but it is old and desiccated from the salt air. Prying the whole plank from the floor takes little effort. I trace a fingertip through the contours of her initials in the wood and conjure up the feel of her freckled skin. The divot in the small of her back and the sharpness of her hip bones, like the tips of icebergs under her flesh. How long has it been since I have kissed those sacred places?

Being with Agnet was a catastrophe of feelings, all overwhelming and confusing, but beautiful in a way that shocks me now. Bliss, longing, gratitude, heartache, and a hundred more feelings crashing one over the other like waves against the rocks. So much of it, and all at once, all crammed together in a heady stew. I became drunk on it. Where did it all go? All that is left now is this constant ache deep inside, and this dried out length of wood that bears our names. It’s unfair that I have to destroy this keepsake. I lost her fossil and have no others; no lock of hair or even a love note to linger over.