Hello Papa,
I hope you are well. All is well with us, but I have some news to share. I hope you’re sitting down.
Last month, I arrived home from an afternoon walk with Rose and was greeted at the door by Logan. He’d paid a visit without notice, and Ruth was as shocked to see him as I was. He explained that he’s been out of prison for some time and was finally permitted to leave Saskatchewan.
As you know, Matthew has always been curious about his father, and he was excited to finally meet him in person. In a way, it’s been a good thing. Sometimes the mystery of something creates a certain ideal—good or bad—that doesn’t exist in real life. And you know what they say ... what is forbidden is coveted. So, I didn’t want to stand between them in any way.
At any rate, Matthew has been enjoying the time he’s been spending with Logan, playing ball and going fishingin a boat they borrowed from a friend of Logan’s from St. Margaret’s Bay. Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed it, but Ruth was willing to lend her car to Logan for the day, so I relented. Matthew came home with a bucket of fresh fish on ice, and he was as happy as I’d ever seen him. The pictures I’ve enclosed were taken in Ruth’s backyard after we all helped to clean the fish. Quite an adventure, I admit.
Darling Papa—I know how you feel about Logan. What we went through was unpleasant, to say the least, but since his return, I don’t feel it would be right to cut him out of Matthew’s life. I’m sure Matthew would never forgive me for it. So, I think we will have to find a way to be a family in some form or another.
John lowered the letter to his lap and felt a grave gnawing in his gut. He was seated in the open Jeep, watching the unloading of supplies on the beach. He was supposed to be supervising, but with the sudden increased blood flow to his extremities, his vision became clouded.
Emma ... What were you thinking, allowing a killer back into your life? Near your children? He strangled a man to death!
Stomach burning, John raised the letter to continue reading Emma’s letter ...
Which brings me to my next question, which you’ve been avoiding for many months now. Will you leave Sable Island once and for all, and come to Halifax? Ruth has an extra bedroom which you are welcome to use, or if you prefer to find a place of your own, there are plenty of options in the city.
I know how much you love Sable Island, and I won’t lie—I’m asking you to come for selfish reasons because Imiss you, and so does Matthew, and I would love for Rose to know her grandfather. I’ll be busy over the next year with my studies, and Matthew will be settled into school, so a visit to Sable Island will be unlikely any time soon.
I know it’s a lot to ask because you’ve given your life to the Humane Establishment, but perhaps the government could find another dedicated person to take over the position? You could retire with great pride, having saved many lives during your impressive career.
Food for thought, Papa! Selfish of me, for sure. But I miss you and I want you close by.
With love,
Emma
With a sudden jolt, John remembered that Emma had mentioned some photographs. He quickly dug back into the envelope and withdrew them.
Oh, Emma! So beautiful. And Ruth, smiling ...
John flipped to the next black-and-white photograph.
Darling Matthew—holding a fish.
John had to squint to view the details. He lowered his glasses to the tip of his nose and peered over the metal rims. The last picture showed Emma with Rose in her arms, Matthew, and Logan. They stood together, arm in arm, behind a bucket of fish in Ruth’s backyard. They looked like the happy family they might have been if Logan hadn’t turned out to be such a rotter.
John sat back in the Jeep and rubbed his forefinger repeatedly over his eyebrow.
Roger Smith, the new weather station chief, came trudging through the deep sand with one last crate in his arms. Roger was twenty-four years old with no wife or children. Keen for adventure, he’d come to Sable for a one-year contract. His goal in life was to travel the world before he settled down somewhere, anywhere.
“That’s it for us,” Roger said jauntily as he set the crate in the back of the Jeep and came around to the driver’s seat. He got in and slammed the door shut.
They sat for a moment, watching the last surfboat rise and fall over the waves as the crew rowed back to theArgyle. Staff men on the beach finished loading a few more barrels onto the horse-drawn wagons, but John was distracted.
“What do you have there?” Roger asked, looking down at the pictures in John’s hand.
He handed them over. “That’s my daughter, Emma.”
Roger looked closely at each one. “She’s very beautiful.”
“Yes.” John was suddenly overcome with sorrow and longing. “They used to call her the Sable Beauty. I raised her here since she was a baby, and we had a wonderful life.”
What he wouldn’t give to return to those days—reading bedtime stories, exploring the ponds, and teaching his little girl to ride a horse.
What he wouldn’t give to live his whole life again.
