THE WOMAN ON THE BALCONY
The island appeared only as a dark line on the horizon. It was late afternoon when the banca left the mainland. The sea was calm, but the farther they traveled, the less the world seemed to exist behind them. Elena sat near the bow. She was a doctor. Thirty years old, perhaps a little older, with the composed manner of someone accustomed to bad news. Her fiancé sat behind her, holding their bags between his feet. Gabriel had been with her for nearly five years. They were supposed to be married in three months. This trip was not part of the plan. Her grandfather was dying. At least, that was what the family had told her. She had not seen Don Mariano in several years. “He always wanted you to come home,” her mother had said over the phone. So she had. The island had once belonged almost entirely to her family. Her grandfather had inherited the estate, the land, the fishing grounds, and most of the houses. But that had been another time. Now only a few families remained. The banca approac...