“Knitting her fingers to bone, I suspect,” Oliver said, with good humor.
Emma looked down at her bowl. “Most likely.”
Matthew fidgeted with his spoon and shifted restlessly in his chair. “May I be excused, Mom?”
“Of course, darling. Go upstairs and brush your teeth and get ready for bed. I’ll come up to say good night. But before you go, say goodbye to Captain Harris, because he’ll be leaving us soon.”
Matthew rose from his chair, walked around the table, and held out his hand like a little gentleman. “It was nice to meet you, Captain Harris. I hope we’ll see you again.”
Oliver shook his small hand. “I hope so too, Matthew. Good night.”
Matthew turned and hugged his grandfather. “Good night, Grampa.” Then he left the kitchen and ran to the stairs.
A quietness settled upon the room. Emma stood up to clear the table. “Would you like coffee or tea?” she asked as she carried the bowls to the sink.
Oliver glanced at the window, where the sun was setting in glowing streaks of pink. “I’d love some, but I really should be going.”
“Yes, you must,” her father replied. “Otherwise, your men will think you’ve been captured by the locals.”
Oliver smiled at the jest. “Indeed.” He folded his napkin and made a move to rise. “But to be imprisoned on paradise. There could be far worse fates.”
Emma was flattered by the compliment to her island home. Or perhaps part of the compliment was directed at her?
Heaven help her. She’d been fighting all afternoon against an undercurrent of her old feelings for this man, but they were irrepressible. Once she and the captain had begun talking—and he’d asked her to call him Oliver—it all came rushing back. It was as if not a single day had passed since the week that followed the shipwreck. Emma wanted to keep talking to him, to share so much about her life these past seven years, and to learn more about his.
And it could not be overlooked that she was still wildly attracted to him. There was no one more handsome, more striking, or manlier than Oliver Harris. And she was a woman of experience now. She understood what was possible between them, as a man and a woman, in private.
At the same time, she was determined not to let herself go down that road again. He was leaving, and who knew if he would ever return?
Her father turned to her then, and she quickly hauled herself out of the depressing depths of that reality.
“Emma, we can’t just send him out alone when it’s getting dark. Take the flashlight and walk him to his boat.”
With the sudden, fast beating of her heart, her body felt energized. “Of course.” She fetched the light from the drawer in the hall table, and after her father said goodbye to Oliver, she led him out the door.
The small bulb from the flashlight illuminated a narrow sandy path through the tall marram grass. Emma stepped carefully in front of Oliver, who followed as they walked in silence, in single file.
Soon, the noise from the ocean grew louder as they approached, and Emma felt an increasing tightness in her belly. She didn’t know what to say, yet she wanted to say everything—to lift the lid on her feelings and let them all come flying out.
When they reached the passage to North Beach, the narrow trail widened to a small field of sand, and Oliver moved to walk beside Emma.
“I hope you won’t mind,” he said, “if I ask a question.”
“Not at all.” Despite everything, she was pleased by the return of their natural intimacy.
“At dinner,” he said, “I sensed you weren’t telling me everything about Abigail and Philip. Maybe it’s none of my business, but did something happen?”
Emma sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid so. It wasn’t a good situation when they left us. The isolation finally caught up with Abigail, and she had a ... let’s just call it a nervous breakdown.”
“Dear God.”
“She’d kept to herself all winter,” Emma continued, “and wouldn’t come to any of our social gatherings, not even to the beach on Boat Day. Then one evening, she ran to the water and tried to wade into the surf, but Philip chased after her and dragged her back in. That’s when we all realized she needed help, so she was taken ashore, and they have no plans to return.” Emma shook her head at the memory of that harrowing night. “I wish there was something I could have done to help her, but even with all the reading I’ve done about the workings of the mind, it was beyond my level of understanding.”
“Is she better now?” Oliver asked, genuinely concerned.
“In some ways, yes. She was released from the hospital, and Philip writes every few months to keep us updated.”
By now, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the sky was a dark shade of purple. Bright stars began to flicker and shine.
