In April, daily temperatures were on the rise, and the speed of the winter winds died down. The spring migration of shorebirds began, and sandpipers, sanderlings, and willets congregated around the freshwater ponds. But the marram grass was still brown.
Emma had been kept busy that winter caring for her father, doing more for him than ever before. It was the little things that took up most of her time. He often asked her to fetch small items for him—a glass of water from the kitchen or a book on the top shelf in his den when he was seated at his desk—simply because it was faster and more efficient for her to do it, rather than for him to rise laboriously, reach for his cane, and cross the room.
She’d ordered a book about depression due to chronic pain after an injury, and it arrived on the March supply ship. She found it immensely helpful, especially regarding her own enabling behaviors, which allowed her father to continue to feel sorry for himself. As time went on, she used many of the suggested techniques to motivate him to do things for himself and also to cope with the grief and anger over his reduced mobility. Some days, the techniques worked. Other days, they did not.
The phone rang in the kitchen, and Emma hurried from the great room to answer it. “Hello? Frank, I thought you’d never call. What’s the status?”
“The ship’s anchored, and the surfboats are on their way.”
“Wonderful. We’ll head down to the beach now. Papa wants to be there to greet the new man and see what he’s made of.”
The Sable Island lifesaving crew was a tight-knit lot. It was essential to morale that a new member was the right fit.
“He should come ashore within the hour,” Frank replied. “I’ll see you down there.”
“Right then.” Emma hung up the phone and grabbed the keys to the Jeep.
Emma drove the open-topped Jeep onto the beach so her father could supervise the unloading from the passenger seat. When the first surfboat finally came bounding over the frothy waves and slid onto the sand, four staff men ran to unburden the small craft of boxes and barrels. Emma got out of the Jeep to stretch her legs and chat with their neighbors, who gathered around.
It was not until the fourth boat arrived that the new employee, a man named Logan Baxter, stepped onto the beach. He brought a dark-red duffel bag, which he slung over his left shoulder, and shook hands with one of the staff men who pointed toward the Jeep.
“That must be him,” Emma said to her father, curious to get a closer look at him as she leaned against the passenger-side door, shading her eyes in the blinding sunshine.
As Mr. Baxter trudged through the deep sand toward them, she took in his appearance. He wore a gray wool jacket, black trousers, and a blue plaid cap, but it was his coloring that struck Emma the most. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and suntanned, freckled skin, which was different from the men on Sable, who all had brown or black hair withbeards or mustaches. This man was clean shaven. He looked almost Nordic.
He stopped in front of the vehicle. “Are you John Clarkson?”
“I am,” her father replied in that deep, commanding voice that never failed to earn people’s respect in an instant. “You must be Logan Baxter. Welcome to Sable. This is my daughter, Emma.”
Logan dropped his duffel bag on the sand and moved to shake her hand, then her father’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
His eyes twinkled with friendly appeal, and she felt her cheeks flush with color.Oh dear.This one was a heartbreaker for sure. She turned away and resolved to be on her guard. No more blushing permitted.
She spoke with aloofness. “It’s nice to meet you as well. Grab your bag and hop in the back, and we’ll take you to Main Station.” She circled around the front of the Jeep to the driver’s seat and got behind the wheel.
While Logan hustled to retrieve his bag, her father leaned close to Emma and spoke quietly. “Do you think he’ll last?”
It never took long for new people to grow weary of the isolation.
“Only time will tell,” she replied, and turned the key in the ignition.
“This place isn’t at all what I expected,” Logan said as he followed Emma’s father into his den to fill out some papers.
“What were you expecting?” Emma asked as she entered behind them.
“For it to feel smaller. I’ve read a lot about Sable Island, and I imagined a sandbar. But now that I’m here, it feels so much bigger. Like a real island.”
“Bigger?” Her father chuckled cynically as he sat down behind his desk and rested his cane up against it. “It’s barely a mile wide from one beach to the other.”
“True,” Logan said, “but looking out your windows, everything’s so green, like a big meadow. You can’t even see the ocean from here.”
“But you can always hear it,” Emma assured him.
After an awkward pause, he set his duffel bag on the floor and riffled through it. “I have papers here. The office told me to give them to you as soon as I arrived.”
“Let’s have a look, then,” her father said.
Logan withdrew a large envelope and handed it to Emma. She felt his eyes on her as she carried it around the desk and passed it to her father, who laid it out on the tidy leather blotter.
