“Should we place bets on how many crew members she’s been with?” Abigail stood and followed him to the back door, pecking at him with her words. “I can’t wait to watch you at the party tonight. She’ll be all over you, and you won’t be able to resist her because she’s young and beautiful. And you’ll leave here telling yourself that you can forget what happened here, because this place is another planet to you. But you’ll remember, and your crew will remember. So will I and everyone else here. The dishonor will follow you. Andher. Mark my words!”
Oliver pushed the door open and walked out. “Thanks for the tea.”
She shouted after him mockingly. “You have no soul, Captain Harris! You only want pretty things!”
Oliver thought of what he’d learned about Abigail that morning, and strove to be as forgiving as Emma, but he couldn’t bring himself to see Abigail as anything other than a jealous and vengeful woman.
As hostess of the party, Emma could barely find a moment to sit down. She’d set drinks and snacks on the kitchen table so that everyone could help themselves, but there was always something that someone neededor wanted—a straw, a towel to sop up a spilled drink, or a safety pin for one thing or another.
When Captain Harris finally arrived, almost an hour late, she was at the sink, filling a pitcher of water for a fresh batch of orange juice from canned concentrate. At the sound of his voice in the foyer, her heart exploded with excitement and anticipation. He soon took a seat in the great room next to her father, and they became engaged in a spirited conversation about fishing rights on the Grand Banks.
When at last Emma escaped her duties in the kitchen—and the rowdy kitchen crowd—she moved into the great room. The captain was so absorbed in his conversation with her father that he didn’t even look up or say hello to her.
Emma sat down on the sofa next to June Shaw, wife of the lighthouse keeper at East Station. It was not often that they saw each other, so they had much to catch up on.
Then Frank O’Reilly joined them. Emma spoke to him for a while, grateful for an excuse to remain in the great room, but she was distracted by the captain and hurt by his aloofness. He kept his back to her the entire evening, and not once did he make eye contact.
Much later, when the kitchen cleared out, June offered to help Emma wash the dishes and put away the food. When the dishes were done and all the young men had left to play cards at the staff house, Emma returned to the great room.
It was empty except for her father. “Where’s the captain?”
“He went off to the staff house with the men,” her father replied casually, as if it were nothing.
Emma blinked a few times, stunned. Then the news fell like broken glass into her heart. She sank onto the sofa.
Why had Captain Harris avoided her all night? Perhaps she’d revealed too much of herself that morning and he’d recognized her infatuation and didn’t wish to lead her on. Had she behaved foolishly, like a childish girl, crying over a dead horse? Clearly lovesick and besotted by an older man of the world?
June entered the room and sat down to wait for her husband to return from the card game. Emma spent the next hour listening to her father advise June about her husband’s Sable Island contract and how to set goals for the future.
Emma listened to all this with polite interest, but inside, her mind was screaming. She was restless and agitated, itching to dash out the door, run to the staff house, and join the card game.
When June’s husband returned and announced it was time to head home to East Station, she and her father walked them to the door and waved as they drove away in their horse-drawn cart. Then her father turned to Emma.
“You were an excellent hostess tonight. The party was a resounding success, don’t you think?”
“Yes.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Now I’m off to dreamland. Big day tomorrow. Good night.”
Emma watched him go upstairs. Then, discreetly, after waiting for him to close the door to his bedroom, she slipped out of the house and walked briskly across the station yard. Laughter and hooting from inside the staff house told her that the card games were still in full swing. She could barely contain the fervor in her heart. A clock was ticking in her mind. There were so few hours left before the supply ship would arrive and take the captain away.
She knocked on the door and entered.
Frank, who sat at the far end of the table, looked up from his hand. “Emma! Come in!” He rose from his chair. “Can I get you a root beer?”
She glanced around the table, searching for the captain, but he was not among the players, nor was he in the common area with the others.
“No, thank you,” she replied. “I only came to say good night and wish you all the best for tomorrow.”
“But you’ll come to the beach and see us off, won’t you?” one of theBelvederemen asked.
It was difficult to speak with good cheer when she was drowning in disappointment, but she gave it her best. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of not being there.” After a brief pause, she added, “Is the captain around?”
“He’s gone to bed,” someone told her. “He’s not much a cardplayer. He likes his books too much.”
A few of the other men nudged each other, so Emma backed toward the door and gave them a friendly salute. “Good night, then, gentlemen. Don’t stay up too late. You won’t want to miss the boat tomorrow.”
“Don’t even say it!” someone shouted, and the others laughed and moaned about that appalling scenario.
