Afterward, Oliver held Emma in his arms. “I promise I’ll be back by Christmas. But for now, take this.” He removed his gold signet ring and handed it to her.
She slid it onto her index finger, but it was too big. “I’ll wear it on the chain with my mother’s locket.”
She was almost delirious with happiness.
For a long while, they clung to each other, skin against skin in the shelter of the garden, their foreheads touching, while the ocean roared in the distance, beyond the high dune.
“We should go,” she finally said, still breathless but thinking of his crew in the tender boat, waiting on the shoreline.
“You don’t like to be late, do you.” His voice was husky and low, touched with amusement, and he brushed his nose against hers. “We’re the same, you and me. God, I don’t want to leave you.”
“I don’t want you to leave either,” she replied. “I hate this.”
He took hold of her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. “Walk me to the beach. And I swear, this time, goodbye won’t be forever.”
They helped each other to rise and dress and attend to the fastenings of their clothes. Then they left the privacy of the garden and began the journey back to the beach.
Outside in the open, where the wind blew steadily and the sand shifted beneath Emma’s feet, the dream slowly began to recede, and the dread of his departure gained traction.
“I’ll return soon,” Oliver promised, as if he could read her thoughts. “After that, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll stay here if you like. Or I’ll take you to England, or the mainland. You could go to university if you still want that. Or if you don’t, that’s fine too. I’m done with my own ambitions, Emma. I’ve seen enough of life without you. I only want to be with you and make you happy.”
“I’ll be happy no matter where we are,” she replied. But as she spoke the words, she felt as if she were playacting, fighting to hold on to the dream, to believe in it, even though it still felt distant and out of reach. What could she do but pray? Pray for everything to work out as he promised it would.
Soon, they came to the beach. Oliver stopped and took Emma into his arms again. He held her close, and she prepared herself for the painful agony of goodbye.
“When I come back,” he said, “I’ll speak to your father. And I don’t care what it takes. Whatever we need to do to be together, we’ll do it.”
The tender boat was waiting on the sand, its solid hull weathering the steady stroke of the waves. The men sitting in the boat were quiet, their gazes averted.
Oliver kissed Emma goodbye, then finally tore himself away and jogged to the boat. He grabbed hold of the stern and leaned into a heavy thrust to launch it. As soon as it lifted off the sand and floated, he leaped into it with impressive agility and sat on a bench facing Emma, who stood on the beach.
The boat rose and fell over the wild surf, and their gazes held. They watched each other raptly.
Emma clasped her hands together over her heart, and remained on the beach for more than an hour until theOverton’s anchor was raised. With dark smoke billowing from her twin stacks, she steamed onward, and Emma watched until eventually she disappeared around the western tip of the island.
Chapter 22
September 19, 1953
Dear Ruth,
If you could only know how eager I’ve been to sit down and write to you. I wish I could deliver this news in person because it might remove some of the sting from that horrible day when Logan was arrested at your house. I was quite downtrodden then, and you were so worried about my emotional wellbeing. But I survived, didn’t I? (Now I wonder if it was all some sort of test to teach me about patience. All good things come to those who wait. Isn’t that what they say? It certainly applies to me today!)
But that’s enough philosophizing. I won’t keep you in suspense. Do you remember Captain Oliver Harris and all the times I poured out my broken heart to you about him? (I can’t thank you enough for all your letters of advice, sympathy, and encouragement over the years.)
I’m not even sure where to begin, except to tell you that the captain paid us a visit this week. (!) At first, I wasn’t happy to see him because, as you know, I grew to resent him after he left in such a cruel way. And rightly or wrongly, I’ve always blamed him for my weakness withLogan. So, when he showed up at our door this week, I was guarded, maybe even a bit rude (I’m not sure). But as always, we got to talking, and I couldn’t help but fall back into those old feelings of love, which weren’t gone, just dormant.
He stayed an extra day to help with some repairs at East Light, and when it came time for him to leave, he proposed to me and promised to return with a ring at Christmas.
I wish I could see your face as you’re reading this! I hope you haven’t fallen out of your chair. I’m still pinching myself, and though I’m happy, I’m also terrified that for some reason he won’t come back. I’ve been disappointed before, so it’s hard to trust that everything will work out. Obviously, I’m jaded. That’s no secret. So, the next few months will be a challenge while I wait. I’m not even sure if I should tell Matthew in case something goes wrong. What do you suggest about that?
Also, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask your advice about something else. Should I come to Halifax now and start divorce proceedings? That’s what Oliver plans to do when he goes back to England. Or maybe I should wait until I’m more certain about the future?
That’s all for now. I will send this letter on the next boat in a few days. Papa says hello.
Much love,
Emma
