“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about when we can leave the island,” Oliver said.
“The last thing I heard before I went to bed last night,” she replied, “was a plan to wait for the supply ship next week.”
Oliver stopped abruptly. “Next week?”
Emma’s horse nickered and tossed its head again.
“Yes. I’m so sorry. It’s not easy to come and go from here, especially after a storm.”
“But the skies are clear now.” He gestured angrily with a hand.
“Yes,” she argued, “but the beaches aren’t safe to land a plane. After a storm, the sand shifts, and it takes a while for everyone to get a handle on things.”
Oliver realized his headache had returned. He pressed the heel of his hand to his temple.
“I’m so sorry I don’t have better news for you,” Emma said, and they began walking again.
“It’s not your fault.” Oliver was fully aware that he was the one to blame for all this.
They continued in silence for a long while until Emma spoke her thoughts openly—as she often seemed to do, without reserve.
“I can guess where we’re going,” she said. “This must be why you were up at the crack of dawn. You want to see your ship?”
“I do,” Oliver replied. “But I’m usually an early riser, regardless.”
“I’m the same.” Emma’s gaze slid to meet his. “As soon as I hear the birds chirping, I want to get moving.”
The rules of proper etiquette were pushing Oliver to respond in a polite manner, but his honest self was bucking violently. His head was pounding, and there was a bitter bile in his stomach because he hated himself for what occurred here twenty-four hours ago, and he wanted to be alone.
“I don’t feel much like talking,” he said brusquely, under the assumption that she would understand and return to Main Station.
But Emma stopped. Her horse stopped as well. Oliver continued for a few more strides before he finally paused, squeezed his eyes shut, and wished he had not encountered her at all.
Reluctantly, he turned around.
“I should probably head back,” she said awkwardly, her cheeks flushing with color. “There’s quite a lot to do. Breakfast for the men in the staff house and ...”
Good God. She was hurt.
Oh, bloody hell, when had he become such an ornery old man? He took a tentative step toward her. “I apologize again, Emma. That was rude of me. I’m not myself.”
She regarded him with a look of genuine empathy, which surprised him. “Please, Captain Harris. Don’t apologize. It’s perfectly understandable. I shouldn’t have intruded upon your walk.”
“You didn’t intrude.”
“Yes, I did,” she argued. “I saw you walking, and I galloped faster to catch up with you, and then I invited myself along. My father would scold me for having the manners of a walrus.” Emma started walking again. “I think I’ve been living on this island too long. I don’t know how to interact with new people. It’s a skill I need to learn.”
“Clearly, a shipwreck was just what the doctor ordered.” It was a grim attempt at humor, and he regretted it immediately.
Emma nodded at him knowingly and continued walking.
A short while later, she said, “I have binoculars in my saddlebag, if you’d like to use them to see your ship. And if you have any questions about the rescue effort, I’m happy to answer. I was there for all of it.”
Despite Oliver’s throbbing head and his melancholic wish to be alone, he was grateful for the offer. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “This is Willow, by the way.”
He glanced over his shoulder as well. “Hello, Willow. I’m Oliver Harris. New to the area.”
