“You’re so beautiful,” she blubbered as she kissed her daughter’s soft, warm forehead. “I’m going to call you Rose.”
Her darling baby Rose had a full head of soft black hair, just like Oliver’s. Blue eyes too, like his.
“And I’m going to love you forever,” she whispered tenderly in Rose’s ear, and Rose rooted toward her breast.
Ruth turned out to be correct. Rose had entered the world and brought a whole new bottomless batch of love with her. Though Emma still grieved for Oliver, she also felt reborn, jubilant, and enormously infatuated. She spent each day tending joyfully to Rose’s needs—changing her, feeding her, singing to her.
In addition, having read widely about early childhood development, Emma knew the importance of not neglecting Matthew. She fostered his interactions with his baby sister and praised him for his attentiveness. Most of all, she encouraged him to be protective. She told him that Rose would always need her older brother.
There was one thing, however, that surprised Emma. Her love for Rose felt different from the love she’d felt for Matthew when he was born. It wasn’t any better or worse, just different. Perhaps because Rose was a girl? Or maybe there was something truly miraculous about her birth—as if God had known in advance what would happen to Oliver, and Rose had been a gift from heaven—a little piece of Oliver’s soul to remain with Emma forever and help reduce the potency of her grief.
Chapter 28
In late June, the Halifax Public Gardens were in full bloom. Giant rhododendrons flowered colorfully, fragrant rosebushes abounded, and crowds gathered for live music around the Victorian bandstand. While couples danced on the freshly mowed grass, swans and ducks swam in the murky ponds, in the shade of ancient oaks and gigantic maples.
Early one Saturday afternoon, Emma pushed the pram around the winding paths and marveled at how the onset of summer could inspire new hope. She’d finally received a reply from Dalhousie University with an offer to attend classes in September. Emma had accepted the offer, paid the deposit, and selected her courses with an excitement she hadn’t felt in years—not since she’d first applied, before her father had been attacked by the seal.
She’d been young and innocent then. Ambitious and optimistic. She’d lost that spirit for a while, but it was slowly coming back to her. She loved her children and wanted to give them a good life. She had no husband, but by God, she had a good head for academics, and she wanted to understand the human psyche. Now was the time. She had support from Ruth, who was ecstatic to have children back in her empty house. Ruth and Emma may not have been related by blood, but Ruth was as good as any devoted grandmother could be.
Isn’t it remarkable?Emma thought as she pushed the pram through the wrought iron gate and exited the park onto Spring GardenRoad—how life could pitch and roll like a ship on a stormy sea, then suddenly, the sun would come out? Perhaps there might be smooth sailing ahead, in Emma’s future. She’d weathered enough storms.
Walking quickly home from Public Gardens, along the flat concrete sidewalks, she delighted in her increased pulse rate and felt rejuvenated by the fresh summer air. She was out of breath and famished. Thankfully, it was almost time for dinner. Ruth had promised a pot of hearty chicken soup with split peas and potatoes.
Before long, the blue house with the red door was in sight, and Rose was stirring in the pram. She would be ready for a diaper change and a bottle as soon as Emma kicked off her shoes. Then Rose would welcome a retreat to her cozy crib. She was a wonderful sleeper. She’d been sleeping through the night since the second week, unlike Matthew, who had cried and woken Emma for a feeding every two hours from dusk until dawn.
Emma wheeled the pram to the bottom of the steps, set the brake, and bent to gather Rose into her arms and carry her up the steps. She’d just settled Rose comfortably over her shoulder when the front door of the house opened.
Emma looked up, and her heart dropped. She stood on the sidewalk, immobile, staring up at Logan.
“Hi, there,” he said, recognizing her shock.
His blond hair was cut short. He was clean shaven and wore a smart-looking blue-checkered shirt tucked into gray trousers, a dark-blue sports jacket with a zipped front, and a fedora. When her gaze lifted to his face, she saw age lines at the outer corners of his eyes and down the center of his forehead. He looked quite a bit older. Thinner also.
But he was supposed to be in prison.
Emma struggled to find her voice. “My goodness.” She felt completely breathless. “Logan. What are you doing here?”
She’d known nothing about his release. She hoped hehadbeen released. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
“I got out on good behavior,” he explained. “I was out on probation for a while and was finally allowed to leave the province. So I thought I’d surprise you and Matthew.”
Emma nodded, but resented the fact that he hadn’t asked if it was all right to come. Perhaps he’d feared she’d say no. “When did you arrive?”
Ruth appeared in the doorway just then. “Emma. You’re back. Look. We have a visitor.”
Seeing the apology in Ruth’s eyes, Emma took a few seconds to gather enough composure to climb the steps with Rose in her arms, over her shoulder. Logan backed into the foyer to allow her space to enter. She wiped her shoes on the mat, and they regarded each other awkwardly until he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. It shocked her, and she recoiled slightly.
“It’s good to see you,” Logan said.
An uncomfortable silence ensued.
He strained to fill it. “This must be Rose?”
“Yes.” Emma shifted Rose into a cradled position and allowed Logan a proper view of her face.
“She’s beautiful,” he said.
Emma’s stomach tightened into a clumsy knot. She didn’t know what to say or do.
