The Cable Ferry – Part 2: Last Boat

The last ferry of the day left at nine.

The sun was only beginning to set. The fjord turned a deep gold, then pink, then a soft violet. The mountains held the last of the light on their peaks. The water lay silent. Claire stood in the bow, wrapped in Anders's spare jacket, watching the waterfalls glimmer like threads of silver.

He cut the engine at the far side and let the boat drift.

"This is my favourite part," he said, joining her at the rail.

"Why?"

"Because nothing happens." He leaned on the rail beside her. "The boat floats. The mountains stand. The light changes. It's the only time I stop thinking."

"What do you think about?"

"Usually, whether I'm lonely."

"And are you?"

"Not tonight," said Anders.

Her heart lifted, soft and sudden. The fjord lapped at the hull. A pair of gulls glided past. A distant sheep bleated on the hillside.

"I missed the bus on purpose," she confessed.

"I know."

"You know?"

"I saw you let it go."

She laughed, her eyes bright. The sky deepened, a vast indigo canopy pricked with the first stars. The northern twilight seemed to go on forever.

"Can I ask you something?" said Claire.

"Yes."

"May I kiss you, Anders?"

"Yes," he said, very softly. "And if you say stop, you must ride with me for the whole of the summer."

"That's no punishment."

"I hoped so."

She kissed him, quiet and warm, a hand rising to his sandy hair. He kissed her back with a slow, steady tenderness, tasting of coffee and salt. The boat rocked gently on the still water. The mountains stood vast and silent round them.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Claire. "Very green."

She stayed through the summer. The ferry still takes eleven minutes. Some crossings take all night.

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