Emma walked out, shut the door behind her, and glanced around the dark station yard. It was a clear night. The stars were shining. The distant crash of the waves on the beach called out to her, and she wondered if the captain was there, standing in the moonlight, waiting for her to come to him. They’d made no such arrangement, but she clung to the hope that he might wish to share another hour with her, privately, before he departed.
Her pulse thrummed, and she hastened across the station yard to the high dune, her body fueled by anticipation as she climbed to the top. Out of breath, she stood beneath the star-speckled sky and scanned the beach below, but there was nothing but sand and ocean, the whitecapped waves in constant motion beneath the gravitational power of the moon.
Disheartened, she sat down on the cool sand, among the tall marram grass, and hugged her knees to her chest. Below, foaming waves rolled onto the beach, one after the other, in a never-ending rhythm. She looked up at the clear night sky—a sure sign that the rescue ship would not be detained by weather. Philip had promised that tomorrow would be a good day for the landing.
Emma should have been happy for the shipwrecked crew of theBelvedereand their captain, but all she felt was sorrow, as bottomless and unfathomable as the ocean that constantly reshaped this lonelyisland—every second, every moment, every day, month, and year. Nothing was ever predictable. Nor did anything in life, for better or worse, remain the same.
The following day, the sky was a dense blue and cloudless, the sun blinding. TheArgylelaid anchor about a mile off North Beach. All residents of the island gathered for the unscheduled Boat Day, which included the delivery of supplies—an efficient use of drained government resources after the long war in Europe.
Emma stood on the breezy beach with the others, waiting by the horse-drawn carts for barrels of salt and flour and giant sacks of potatoes. The staff men, despite their late-night card playing, were full of energy and eager to deliver theBelvederecrew to their rescue ship.
Emma shared none of their excitement. Her heart was an anchor plunging into the deep. Where was Captain Harris? Why was he not here?
Her father moved about, greeting everyone personally in his typical friendly fashion. Again, he complimented Emma on the success of the party the night before.
Joseph, the chief staff man, approached. Feigning a casual curiosity, she turned to her father. “I haven’t seen Captain Harris yet. We can’t let the ship leave without him.”
Her father laughed. “Goodness, no! I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” He leaned toward Joseph. “Unless Abigail has him strapped to the staircase railing.”
Joseph laughed, and Emma wondered if people were making jokes like that abouther.
A small surfboat from theArgylemotored onto the beach, and the men set to work in the sunshine, unloading crates and barrels. Once that was done, five men from theBelvederestepped aboard, and off theywent, bounding over the blue swells and waving their hats in goodbye as they grew distant.
Emma turned and looked around for Captain Harris. Finally, she spotted him, walking up the beach from the direction of theBelvedere. Even from a quarter mile away, she recognized his masculine gait.
If she were not so heartsick, she would have waited on the beach with the others, but her emotions were running wild. She couldn’t bear the thought of saying goodbye to him forever. How could she waste precious minutes, simply standing there with a sick feeling in her belly, while he crossed the long distance? She yearned to be near him, touch him, talk to him, and perhaps even arrange to see him again, somehow. Perhaps she could travel to England one day. Or if she lived on the mainland, attending university, he might dock in Halifax.
The alternative—never seeing him again—was unthinkable. It sent her mind into a fighting frenzy. She began to panic, so she excused herself from the others and trudged fast through the deep sand to meet him halfway.
The long walk was torturous.
“Hello, Emma,” he said, apprehensively, as he finally drew near.
The sound of his voice and the striking sight of him in the morning light made her realize there was so much of the world—so much oflife—that she had not yet experienced. An entire universe of the unknown presented itself in the man before her, who aroused her passions in ways she’d never imagined.
Out of breath, Emma stopped. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you last night,” she said in a rush of words. “You left without saying goodbye, or even looking at me. Why did you do that?”
Anxious and desperate, she waited for him to explain. Perhaps he was as confused as she by what was happening between them. Or maybe she was living in a fantasy world, and he’d avoided her because he’d realized she’d developed a childish and inappropriate crush on him.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “But it seemed best not to socialize. I think people were starting to notice.”
“Notice what?”
“That we ...” He paused. “That we’d grown fond of each other.”
The words were a balm to her aching heart, and it took a moment for her to settle down and start again, less desperate now. “Yes,” she said. “Iamfond of you. So much more than I expected to be.”
It felt lovely to say it, to speak the truth at last.
Exhaling heavily, the captain faced the water. “I understand, and I do feel an affection for you, but I’m leaving today, so you need to put that aside.”
Her hopes took a sudden dive, like the surfboats cresting a frothy white wave, then descending down the other side of the mountain. “Why?”
He spoke sharply. “Because I’m a married man, too old for you, and—”
“You’re not too old,” she argued, “and your wife chose a life with someone else. Doesn’t that give you the freedom to—”
He turned on her. “I’mthe one to blame for that.” For a few shuddering seconds, his expression was almost frightening, his eyes full of torment. “Either way, it doesn’t give me the freedom to ...”
