She smiled and walked out the door of the abandoned house.
A short while later, after strolling down meandering paths through low-lying junipers and bayberry bushes, and talking the whole way, they reached the rose garden.
“Here we are.” Emma led Captain Harris into the vast circular garden where dense bushes climbed up the surrounding slopes and towered over them. The perfume was overpowering.
“I’ve always thought of this as an oasis,” she said. “My very own private English garden.”
The captain was quiet as he strolled about. She watched him curiously and wondered what he was thinking.
“Though I’ve never been to England,” she added. “So, I have no idea if that label is appropriate.”
“It’s perfect,” he said. “It smells like home. My wife planted a hedge of roses in our back garden the year we were married, but it hasn’t had time to grow this tall.”
Emma felt a pang of disappointment, which made no sense because she had no claim on the captain, romantic or otherwise, and the fact that he had a wife should not come as a surprise. Of course he wasmarried. He was at least ten years older than she, a man of the world. Any sort of crush on her part was pointless and inane.
“Do you have children?” she asked, making conversation, sensibly.
“I have two. A girl and a boy. Lydia and Arthur.”
What lovely names, she thought. How lucky he was.
“You must miss them when you’re at sea.”
“I miss them all the time,” he replied. “Even when I’m home, because I don’t see them very much.”
Emma’s eyebrows pulled together questioningly. “Why not?”
He circled the round garden while she stood in the center of it, quietly watching him and feeling desperate to know everything about him—his past experiences, his thoughts, and his feelings.
“A long time ago,” he explained, “I put my life at sea above everything else.” He glanced briefly at her. “This isn’t something I normally share, but ... well, my wife found another man, and we’ve been living separate lives ever since.”
This was not a subject Emma had ever discussed with anyone before, but it wasn’t awkward. To the contrary, it felt good to speak of intimate matters with the captain. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
He nodded, and she yearned to know more—to understand how a wife could not forgive her husband for his professional commitments.
“Was it because of the war?” she asked. “Is that why you were gone so much?”
“Yes,” he replied. “But it was a bit more complicated than that.” He fingered a few green leaves on the bushes and seemed reluctant to continue.
“Forgive me,” Emma said, lowering her gaze to the ground. “It’s none of my business. I’ve overstepped.”
“No need to apologize.” He faced her. “You’re inquisitive. That’s why you know so much for someone so young.”
“I’m not so young,” she disagreed openly. “I’m twenty-one, and I plan to go to university on the mainland in the fall. I’ve already been accepted to study psychology.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Well, well. Congratulations. Obviously, you’ve chosen the right path for yourself. You seem to have a keen interest in people’s thoughts and feelings.”
“Yes.” How good it felt to have someone recognize this and not treat her as if she were reaching too high or too far. “I do.”
“Hence all the questions,” he added.
She laughed and looked down at her feet. “My father’s afraid I might be treating you like a guinea pig.”
Captain Harris threw his head back and laughed. Then he pressed the heel of his hand to his temple.
“Oh dear,” Emma said, moving a little closer. “I’ve made your head pound.”
He squinted a little. “Yes, but at least you’ve distracted me from my demons for the past hour. That’s worth a small headache, in my opinion.”
