Then he saw a man jogging toward him.
“Greetings! Welcome to Sable Island!”
The young man was a stranger to Oliver. Feeling a bit muddled, his thoughts in disarray, he relied on the dependable rules of social etiquette. “Good morning!” he shouted across the station yard.
They reached each other on one of the concrete sidewalks and held out their hands. “I’m Oliver Harris,” he said, “here to pay a visit to Emma Clarkson, or her father, John. I’m an old friend.”
“Welcome,” the young man replied. “I’m Roger Smith, weather station chief. But I’m afraid you’re too late. John left a month ago, and everyone else left just the other day.”
Oliver shook his head and frowned. “What do you mean, everyone?”
Roger shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “You didn’t hear? The lifesaving establishment was gutted. The government didn’t see much need for it anymore, which makes sense, to be honest. There hasn’t been a shipwreck here in almost ten years.”
“Nineteen forty-six,” Oliver replied with dismay as the news slowly sank in.
Roger shrugged. “Maybe that was it. I don’t know, exactly. I’ve only been here since the spring. But you know what they say: you can’t fight progress. So now my job is the only one that seems relevant. Except for the wireless operators, I guess.”
Oliver spoke in a rush. “I sent a message a couple of weeks ago. It was meant for Emma. Do you know if she received it?”
Roger made a face. “I don’t know about that. There’s been some turnover and a lot of confusion since the announcement came. And she hasn’t been here for a while. She was long gone when I arrived.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Roger cheerfully replied. “John showed me some pictures. Lovely-looking woman. He said they used to call her the Sable Beauty.”
“They did,” Oliver replied with rising impatience. “But where is she now?”
“With her husband,” Roger replied. “Back on the mainland. Did you know he went to prison for killing a man?”
The shock was like shrapnel to the gut. Oliver took a step back, almost staggering. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard the man correctly. Or maybe he was just floating in a fog of denial. “She’s where?”
“She went back to her husband, and they’re living somewhere in Halifax. John said he was released from prison. That must have beenquite a scandal when he was arrested. Must have put a strain on their marriage, I would guess, but it sounds like they’re making it work.”
The news finally hit home, and Oliver felt as if he’d fallen out a high window and smashed into the ground. He took a few more steps backward, wondering if this was another real-life nightmare—like the explosion, his ship going down ...
Surely this time his heart wouldn’t be able to hold out.
“But you know what they say,” Roger continued, oblivious to Oliver’s distress. “Time heals all wounds. He’s out of jail now, and they looked like a happy family in the pictures I saw. But it makes sense, you know? With children in the mix. A boy needs his father. Forgive and forget, that’s what I always say.”
Oliver turned toward the ocean and listened to its obstinate thunder. He thought of the days in the lifeboat, when he’d cursed God, and the slow, excruciating deaths of the two men on the island—who were his friends—when they’d succumbed to infection.
Maybe he wasn’t so lucky after all, because Emma—the only dream that gave him a reason to keep breathing when he was starving to death—was lost to him.
The waves beyond the high dune continued to break onto the shore. It was a relentless reverberation, booming inside his chest, and he felt the same despair he’d felt when he’d given up all hope for a rescue or a way off that wretched island.
“Since you’re here,” Roger said, “would you like to come to the weather station for a tour? We’re working on some new experiments. I could make you a hot lunch at the house.”
“No ... thank you,” Oliver replied, walking backward. He was engulfed in grief and rage—aimed at God again. “I need to get going.”
He couldn’t be sociable. He was in a numb state of shock.
But as he started running toward the tender boat on the shore, his shock turned to defiance. This couldn’t be the end. If he rowed quickly back to the sailboat, he could harness the wind, return to Halifax, and find Emma. Tell her he loved her. Beg her to leave Logan. Oliver ranclumsily out of Main Station, fighting for traction in the deep sand, darting through winding horse trails toward the break in the high dune.
But when he emerged onto the beach, the reality of the situation and the consequences of his desires struck him like a stone and shattered him. He stopped dead.
He wanted Emma. Of course he did. But how many times had he broken her heart? God had chosen to spare him from death in the explosion, in the lifeboat, and on the island. For that he was grateful—he truly was—and maybe this was a sign. When he was praying for survival and rescue, Oliver had made countless untold promises. He’d begged forgiveness for his failures as a husband and a father. He’d pleaded for a chance to see his children again and hold them in his arms.
Was this the price for that reward? His children had been at his side in the hospital constantly since his return, and he’d been thanking God ever since. But to go after Emma was to break the promises he’d made to be a better father. Could he abandon his children again? Could he destroy a marriage reunited and steal another man’s son from him?
