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“No. Tomorrow.” He suggested I come an hour earlier, so that we’d have more time after I treated Ana. And I agreed.

Time. It does not seem to exist in that house. When I left, I had no idea how long exactly I’d spent inside. It is like its own world, a dream induced by lavender. And even though it was only my second visit, I wasn’t sure I wanted to wake up.

Twelve

Petra

June 2026

After another restful night, I wake buzzing with energy.

“You look happy,” Karmela says when I enter the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” I reply, grateful I mean it. “How about you?”

She nods, then peers at my sundress and the backpack slung over my shoulder. “Are you going somewhere?”

“To the beach. With Luka,” I add more quietly.

“Ah.” A slow, teasing smile spreads across her face, making her eyes glimmer. “He’s a good man.”

Heat surges to my cheeks. I open my mouth to protest but change my mind. It’s nice to see Karmela so cheerful.

After a simple breakfast, I head off. “Enjoy,” Karmela calls on my way out the door.

When I reach the pier, Luka’s waiting for me at the end, wearing sunglasses and a linen button-down. “Ready?” he asks as I approach.

“Mm-hmm.” A few people farther down the pier stare at us with stern expressions, but Luka doesn’t pay them any mind. I try to do the same.

He steps onto the boat behind him, then extends a hand back to me. His grip is warm and firm as he helps me on board. While he starts the engine, I settle on a seat along the edge.

As the boat drifts away from the pier, I think I catch a hazy silhouette of a woman with dark hair standing at the edge, watching us leave. My palms slick with sweat as I think suddenly of the mora, but then a spray of seawater fans my vision, and I realize it was only someone walking toward another boat.

I shake my fear away, focusing ahead. As we speed by wild greenery and jagged boulders, I close my eyes, reveling in the salty mist, the wind whipping my hair.

We slow as Luka guides the boat into an inlet, revealing a secluded cove nestled between a low expanse of craggy hills. The water gleams an incandescent aquamarine, a silky contrast to the coarse rocks surrounding the shoreline. A hush settles over the landscape, filled only by the soft thrum of cicadas, the sea lapping against the boat. The town of Tolba feels suddenly far away, like I’ve been transported to a different reality, some secret oasis. “It’s . . . beautiful,” I say, knowing the simple word doesn’t do the scenery justice.

“It’s my favorite beach,” Luka says, walking up beside me. “Mirno kao ulje.” As calm as oil.

For a moment, our eyes catch, making my pulse skip.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

“I could eat.”

Luka steps away, disappearing into the cabin. I unpack my camera from my bag and take some photos of the cove.

A few minutes later, he reemerges with a charcuterie board laden with food and sets it on the table at the center of the cockpit. I sit down beside it, admiring the spread. There are slices of prosciutto and a fiery red sausage, plump green olives, hunks of a firm, golden cheese, and pieces of rustic bread beside a small dish filled with olive oil.

“What else do you have on this boat?” I say, looking toward the cabin with awe.

The small laugh he emits grazes my skin. “These are all local products we source for the restaurant.”

“It looks great.”

As he settles onto the seat opposite me, he explains, “You should try the pršut—we cure it ourselves in the bura, this strong wind from the northeast. And this cheese comes from an island near here called Pag. The same bura blows seawater onto the fields there, so when the sheep eat the grass, their milk has this really unique, salty taste.”

I try a piece, pleasantly surprised by the sharp, earthy flavor. “Mmm,” I murmur.