That evening, in Ruth’s formal dining room, Emma and Logan gorged themselves on a hearty chicken casserole with warm buttered rolls and rich chocolate cake for dessert. Emma told the story of her father’s encounter with the angry seal, and Ruth spoke about the death of her husband and how, since becoming a widow, she’d returned to teaching young children at kindergarten.
Logan shared stories about his childhood growing up on a farm in Saskatchewan and his work as a veterinarian, and Emma was delighted to see him continuing to act like his old self. He was pleasant and good humored, and it was the best night she could remember since they’d made the decision to travel to the mainland for her delivery. For the first time in ages, she went to bed feeling good about her marriage, and she was pleased when her husband was receptive to her affections.
The following day, Emma wondered if it was just the brandy. Logan had begun sipping it the moment they’d arrived at Ruth’s house and had continued throughout the evening. He’d been affable all night long, but at breakfast the next morning, he retreated into his shell of silence and gloom.
At times, Emma was tempted to offer her husband more brandy to lift his spirits, but she was wise enough to know that liquor was not the solution to the problem—whatever it was. Most likely, over time, it would only make things worse.
On their fourth day in Halifax, the sun shone brightly from a blue sky, and the scent of spring filled the air. The snow had begun to melt, so Emma decided it would be a good day to drag her husband out of bed for a leisurely walk around the neighborhood.
As soon as they stepped onto the damp sidewalk, she looped her arm through his. “Thank you for coming out with me. They say walking is a good form of exercise for late pregnancy, and it can sometimes bring on the labor.”
Logan laid his hand over hers. “Should I be ready to carry you to the hospital?”
His tone was disappointingly lackluster, but Emma managed to laugh it off. “I hope that won’t be necessary. I’m as big as a barn. You’d put your back out.”
He offered no reply.
They made their way toward the end of the street, while shiny silver icicles dripped from the eaves on the houses and cars splashed through slushy puddles.
After a while, Emma spoke delicately, as she often did lately, with her husband. “Is everything all right with you?”
“Not really,” Logan flatly replied.
She gazed at him with surprise, because getting him to express his feelings of dissatisfaction or irritability—or whatever was dragging him down—was often like getting blood from a stone.
“Please, Logan ... tell me what’s wrong,” she pleaded with genuine love and compassion for whatever ailed him. “I only want to help.”
He scoffed, bitterly. “Of course you do—because you want a new guinea pig to replace the last one.”
The words shocked her and stole her breath. Emma halted on the sidewalk. “What are you talking about?”
Logan continued for a few tense seconds before he finally stopped and turned around. “I heard you and Ruth in the kitchen last night. I came down for a drink, and the two of you were sitting at the table gossiping, so I listened for a while.”
Emma’s heart began to race and throb. What she’d discussed with Ruth was the farthest thing from gossip. It was the most personal and intimate confession of her soul. But Logan had heard what she’d said?Oh, God.She remembered all too well the main points of their conversation. Emma had confided in Ruth about Logan’s recent feelings of depression, and she’d opened up about her relationship with Captain Harris and her terrible heartbreak after he’d left.
“You were eavesdropping,” she said, feeling violated.
Logan stared at her piercingly. “Don’t try and turn this on me. You know what you said.”
“I’m not sure that I—”
“Oh, stop it, Emma,” he barked. “All you did was complain about me, so obviously I’m a disappointment to you. But just tell me this.” A muscle flicked at his jaw. “Are you still in love with him?”
All the breath sailed out of Emma’s lungs. Logan might as well have hit her across the back with a two-by-four.
He looked up at the sky and scoffed. “I should have known. You were in such a hurry to get married. Is the baby even mine?”
Emma’s shock spun into anger, and it was her turn to speak with ire. “Of course it’s yours! I was a virgin when I met you. You know that!You were the one who always pushed things to the limit and told me how beautiful I was, and how badly you needed me. Those hands of yours—always coaxing and persuading! Your hands could have talked me into anything! But I believed you loved me, and that’s why I married you. So don’t make a ridiculous accusation like this, Logan, even if you’re not happy that we’re stuck with each other now—because it’s notmyfault I got pregnant. It’s yours. You were the one who couldn’t wait.”
Logan strode toward her, so fast that she took a few steps back. “Stuck with each other. There it is. The truth at last! You never would have married me if you weren’t forced into it—because you’re still dreaming about that captain ... whatever his name is.”
“I’m not dreaming of him,” she insisted. “I’m over that.”
He bowed his head, rested his hands on his hips, and turned toward the street. “Tell me another one, Emma, because after what I heard last night, it’s obvious I was just a distraction last summer. A way for you to forget about him.”
“No.” She took hold of Logan’s arm. “I loved you. Istilllove you.”
A woman pushing a pram down the sidewalk crossed the street, obviously giving them a wide berth. Emma was mortified that they were causing a scene. She linked her arm through Logan’s and began walking again, slowly, willing herself to calm down.
