“I was sure my husband's clothes would fit,” she said approvingly, when Austin ventured out in the shirt and pants. “He was a big man like you.”

While Pia set the table, Austin spread his clothes out next to a wood stove, then stood practically on top of it, basking in the heat, until she informed him that dinner was ready.

The baked fresh cod melted in his mouth. They washed dinner down with a light homemade white wine. Dessert was a sweet raisin pudding. Over their meal, she talked about her life in the Faroes, and Austin told her a little about his NUMA work. She was fascinated by his travels to exotic places for his NUMA assignments.

“I forgot to ask, did you have a good walk, even with the rain?” Pia said as she cleared the dishes.

“I climbed to the top of the cliffs. The views were incredible. I saw the fish farm you mentioned. Do they allow visitors?”

“Oh no/9 Pia replied, with a shake other head. ”They don't let anyone in. Like I said before, none of the village men work there. There's a road along the shore that they used when they were build- ing, but it's blocked off with a high fence. Everything comes and goes by sea. They say it's like a separate town out there."

“Sounds interesting. Too bad no one can get in.”

Pia refilled Austin's glass and gave him a sly look. “I could get in in a minute if I wanted to, through the Mermaid's Gate.”

He shook his head, unsure he had heard her correctly. “The Mer- maid's Gate?”

“That's what my father used to call the natural arch at the edge of the old harbor. He used to take me out sometimes in his boat, and we'd go there. He never took me in. It's dangerous because of the cur- rents and rocks. Some men have drowned trying to go through the gate, so the fishermen stay away. They say it's haunted by the souls of the dead. You can hear them moaning, but it's only the way the wind blows through the caves.”

“It sounds as if your father wasn't afraid of ghosts.” “He wasn't afraid of any thing.”

“What do these caves have to do with the fish farm?” "It's a way to go in. One cave joins others that lead to the old har- bor. My father said there are paintings on the walls. Wait, I'll show you.

She went to a bookcase and took out an old family album. Tucked between pages of photos was a sheet of paper, which she unfolded and spread on the table. Drawn on the paper were rough sketches of bison and deer. More interesting to Austin were depictions of long graceful boats powered by sail and oar.

“These are very old drawings,” Austin said, although he was un- able to place them in time. “Did your father show them to anyone else?”