Linking her arm through Frank’s, she invited him to walk on beside her.
“Please don’t apologize. It’s fine. You’re a good friend to me.” It was important to her that she made her feelings clear.
“You’re a good friend to me as well,” he replied.
They continued along the foggy beach, arm in arm, listening to the constant low thunder of the ocean, feeling the cool mist on their cheeks. Thankfully, Frank let the sensitive subject of their friendship go,and they spoke instead about what her living arrangements would be in September when she began classes at university.
Emma could hardly wait for Boat Day at the end of August, when she would finally board the ship, steam off to the mainland, and begin a new chapter in her life—because she wanted very much to turn the page on this one.
Chapter 9
“I don’t understand why you’re packing so many outfits,” Emma’s father said grudgingly from the open doorway of her bedroom.
She sat back on her heels next to her trunk, where she’d been folding sweaters happily. But now she felt the weight of his disapproval roll into the room like a thundercloud.
She wished she was leaving in three hours instead of three days, because lately he’d become disparaging about everything.
“I need clothes for two seasons,” she explained, “because I won’t be back until Christmas.”
Her father moved into the room and sat on the chair by the window. He watched her fold a tweed jacket and place it in the trunk. “It’s so far away, Emma.”
She let out a breath of fatigue. “It’s not that far. And we’ve been through this a hundred times. You know how much this means to me. Please don’t make me feel guilty. I don’t want to worry that you’re angry with me—or worse, that you’re lonely or depressed.”
Her father was a proud man, and under normal circumstances, he’d be offended by the mere insinuation of emotional weakness. But today he stared at the floor and spoke woefully. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Emma. It won’t be the same.”
In that instant, something caught in her chest, and she regretted their recent hostilities, the fact that they’d been at war. She loved her father with all her heart, and she didn’t want to leave him like this.
“You’ll get along fine, Papa,” she said gently, with compassion. “And I’m going to miss you too. I’ll miss youterribly.”
His eyes lifted. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say it.”
She realized it was true, and she wished things could have been different between them these last months. “I guess I’ve been on the defensive,” she explained.
Wanting to fix things, Emma stood up and held out her hand. “Let’s go for a walk. Like old times.”
He rose from the chair.
An hour later, they were laughing as they skidded down the steep side of the high dune toward North Beach, where the sun beat hotly onto the bright sand. The wind in Emma’s face thrilled her—along with the fear that she was sliding too fast and might tumble and roll down the slope. It carried her back to her happy childhood, when her father had taken her on grand adventures to every corner of the island to run and play, and to frolic in the waves. He’d taught her about the horses and vegetation, and the unique geography of their special island home, surrounded by swirling ocean currents. He told jokes and let her drive the horse-drawn carts when she was barely big enough to grip the reins. He picked her up and swung her high in the air before depositing her into her bed each night to read her a story.
“What a perfect day,” he said, sounding jovial for the first time in ages as he walked briskly ahead of Emma on the wide beach, jogging toward the crashing waves.
At the water’s edge, the sand, dampened from the outgoing tide, was packed tight. Dozens of gray seals basked in the sun, lolling about lazily, but her father’s approach sent the herd into a frenzy. They bounced laboriously on their bellies, galumphing into the noisy surf.
Emma watched her father crouch down to touch the water and test the temperature. Another wave rolled in, so he flicked his hand dry and backed away to avoid getting his shoes soaked.
“How is it?” Emma called out.
He rubbed his hands together and strolled back to where she stood. “As cold as midwinter.”
“Gosh darn Labrador current,” she lightly replied.
Two seagulls screeched in the air above them, and Emma looked up. Then she and her father turned to stroll eastward, with the wind at their backs. She moved close to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me go away to school. And I promise, Iwillmiss you, and I’ll write as often as I can.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I wish theArgylecould come more often than once a month. It’s a long time to wait for a letter.”
“Yes, but on the bright side,” she replied, “you’ll have a whole sack of them arrive all at once, which will keep you busy reading for weeks.”
He laughed at that. “I’ll read them all in a single day.”
