Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Following the departure of the Belvedere crew, life on Sable Island returned to its rhythmic ebb and flow, day to day, week to week. The wild herds came back from their springtime feast of sandwort on the west end of the island, and the staff men resumed their scheduled beach patrols, morning, noon, and night, searching for signs of shipwrecks.
During the war, the Sable Island community had been on high alert for German U-boats, but since the invention of radar, and now during peacetime, the odds of a ship running aground at Sable had diminished. Some said the wreck of the Belvedere might be the last of its kind and the Humane Establishment might become a thing of the past.
Although Emma had loved growing up on Sable, she now saw no future for herself there. Something had changed since her experience with Captain Harris. Perhaps it was an awakening of some sort, physical and emotional. Suddenly her goal to receive a proper education on the mainland had become vital, her own personal lifeboat. It gave her a sense of purpose and helped her to remain hopeful and optimistic whenever her thoughts drifted to the captain and the horrible agony of his departure.
There were times when it all felt like a dream—the bliss of those hours they’d spent alone together, walking or riding—but it was a dream that had not ended happily. It had, in fact, become rather nightmarish. Captain Harris was gone, but her longings persisted. Sometimes they weighed her down like an anchor, and it became difficult to focus on the simplest task when she was gazing off into space, dreaming about the sound of his voice and imagining his touch, his kiss, and so much more.
But oh, how those desires grated on her. They were constantly eclipsed by the hurtful things he’d said to her that final morning on the beach. Whenever she replayed that scene in her mind, the humiliation returned, usually accompanied by exasperation and anger.
She was not accustomed to falling apart emotionally. It was not something she was enjoying, so she struggled to soldier on—as the captain of her dreams had once put it so eloquently.
Early one foggy morning when the mist was so thick it left a cold wet film on her cheeks, Emma walked westward across the heath. She was still melancholy about the captain but continued to promise herself that all she needed was change—a new life on the mainland with scholarly pursuits to keep her mind occupied, new friends and places to explore. All she had to do was survive the summer on Sable Island and try not to think of him so often.
Suddenly, out of the fog, came a shadow. But no ... it was not a shadow but a person, walking toward her on the same narrow horse trail. They met in a dense cluster of fragrant bayberries.
“Good morning,” Frank said, smiling. “I didn’t expect to see anyone else out so early.”
“Neither did I,” Emma replied, feeling none of the awkwardness she usually felt around Frank. There was something about his smile that morning. For once, it didn’t seem to prey on her.
“I needed some exercise after a long overnight shift,” he said. “I’m just heading back now.”
“I should turn back as well.” Emma glanced over her shoulder, toward Main Station. “I didn’t realize how far I’d walked.”
“Let’s walk together?” he asked.
“Why not? But let’s take the beach.”
“North or south?”
“You choose.”
Frank didn’t need to think about it. He led Emma to a break in the dune on the north side of the island.
“Have you gone to look at the Belvedere lately?” he asked.
“Not lately,” she replied. She’d been resisting the urge because she knew it would only take her backward.
“She’s more than half-buried,” Frank told her. “It must have been that nor’easter on Wednesday. Soon she’ll be gone, sucked into the sand with all the others. Like she was never here.”
Emma swallowed uneasily. There were more than three hundred shipwrecks buried around her island home. More evidence to confirm that it was time to leave this place and start fresh somewhere else, with new memories and fewer ghosts.
She and Frank emerged onto North Beach, where the fog was thick and milky. The temperature dropped, and Emma fastened the top button of her coat.
“Are you cold?” Frank asked.
She felt his eyes on her and sensed he was evaluating her mood, which proved to be correct, because he spoke cautiously.
“Emma. I don’t mean to pry, but you haven’t been yourself lately. Not since Captain Harris left. Are you all right?”
It was a direct question—painfully direct—and Emma couldn’t think of how to respond.
Frank gently continued to probe. “I understand ... because I know how it feels to love someone and not have your feelings reciprocated.”
Emma had never doubted that Frank was a decent young man, but unfortunately, her feelings for him had never gone beyond friendship. Only now was she beginning to see how she’d hurt him over the past few months. In her defense, it hadn’t occurred to her while it was happening, especially recently when she’d been so caught up in her blind passion for Captain Harris. But she understood the world better these days.
“It’s not easy,” she confessed.
They walked in silence, looking down at the path before them.
“Does your father know?” Frank asked.
“Good heavens, no. I’d be mortified.”
“You can always talk to me about it if you want to. I just want to be your friend, Emma.” He spoke in a low voice, his eyes downcast. “If I can’t be anything else.”
Emma felt an ache of regret for the pain she’d caused him—and was still causing him—but she was afraid of where this conversation might lead if she surrendered too deeply to her sympathies. So she stayed mute as they walked.
“Did you ever tell the captain how you felt?” Frank asked after a time.
“Yes,” she replied. “On the last day, just before he left.”
“What did he say?”
She sighed dejectedly. “He told me to forget him because he’s a married man and too old for me.”
Frank slid his hands into his coat pockets. “I can’t say I disagree. At least he was honest with you.”
Emma knew that Frank was right, but she still couldn’t seem to let it go. “But his wife is with someone else. And he’s not that old.”
Frank stopped walking and faced her. “He’s still married, Emma, and he’s deserted two children. He’s lived an entire life that you know nothing about, so I’m pretty sure you don’t know him as well as you think you do.”
She felt as if she’d been struck across the back with a wood plank. She couldn’t argue, and Frank knew it, so he pushed on.
“If you want my advice,” he said, “you should forget about Captain Harris. Otherwise, you’ll make yourself miserable dreaming about something you can never have.”
Emma pressed her lips together and shivered in the chill of the damp fog. “What do you know about him that I don’t?” she asked, craving information. “You spent time with his crew. Did you hear things?”
Because of their intimate conversations, she’d thought she knew the captain better than anyone on the island. But maybe that wasn’t the case.
Frank shook his head with frustration and started off again. “I haven’t heard any gossip, if that’s what you mean. But those are the facts that everyone knows. He’s been to war, he has two children he never sees, and he ran his ship aground. He’ll be professionally disgraced by that. Honestly, you could do better, Emma.”
With someone like you?
If she had listened to her father and given Frank O’Reilly a chance at the outset, maybe she wouldn’t be wallowing in grief right now.
She hurried to catch up to Frank, and all her feelings came spilling out. “I know I have to accept that there’s no future there, but I just can’t get him out of my head. It’s like an obsession. The love won’t let go of me.”
“It wasn’t love,” Frank said irritably. “You only knew him for a week.” He stopped walking, raked his fingers through his hair, and shook his head with remorse. “I’m sorry. That was mean. I understand what you’re going through. I really do.”
Emma stared at him for a moment, wishing she could feel more than friendship for him, but her relationship with Frank couldn’t hold a candle to what she’d felt for the captain.
Linking her arm through Frank’s, she invited him to walk on beside her.
“Please don’t apologize. It’s fine. You’re a good friend to me.” It was important to her that she made her feelings clear.
“You’re a good friend to me as well,” he replied.
They continued along the foggy beach, arm in arm, listening to the constant low thunder of the ocean, feeling the cool mist on their cheeks. Thankfully, Frank let the sensitive subject of their friendship go, and they spoke instead about what her living arrangements would be in September when she began classes at university.
Emma could hardly wait for Boat Day at the end of August, when she would finally board the ship, steam off to the mainland, and begin a new chapter in her life—because she wanted very much to turn the page on this one.