Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Emma woke the following morning to more wind and rain. The telephone was ringing in the kitchen, so she rose from bed, pulled on her robe, and moved to the top of the stairs to listen as her father answered it.
“When?” he asked. “Have you notified the mainland? What about Captain Harris? Does he know yet?” Her father paused and listened. “Thank you, Joseph.”
As soon as he hung up the phone, Emma quickly descended the stairs. “What’s happening?”
Her father faced her with an expression of outrage. “Two of the Belvedere men snuck out last night and stole the lifeboat.”
“For what purpose?” she asked, stunned.
“We can only assume they made a run for the mainland,” he explained. “One of them was superstitious and thought this place was cursed. Evidently, he’d had some whiskey.”
“Dear Lord.” Emma sank onto a chair at the table. “They’ll never make it. Besides that, the other lifeboat was lost in the rescue, so they’ve left us with nothing. We can’t even go after them.”
“It was selfish of them,” he said. “And foolish. Now we have two men out there on the ocean thinking they can row two hundred miles, and the coast guard has to get involved.”
“More lives in danger.”
Her father picked up the phone. “I’ll call Captain Harris and let him know.”
Emma raked her fingers through her sleep-tousled hair. “Just what he needs. More stress, after everything he’s been through.”
“Don’t start with that, Emma,” her father warned. “He’s a grown man and more than capable of handling the responsibilities of his profession.”
Emma spent the day indoors baking bread, but after the phone call about the missing crewmen, the captain remained in her thoughts constantly. Hours later, when all the loaves were out of the oven, cooling on the counter, and the low-lying clouds had finally parted, she couldn’t resist the burning desire to call Abigail and check in on him. Thankfully, Philip answered the phone and was more forthcoming than Abigail would have been. He revealed that Captain Harris had just left the house to go for a walk on the beach.
Within minutes, Emma was climbing the high dune for a first-class view of North Beach, where she spotted him about a quarter mile away, at the water’s edge, facing the angry ocean. Impetuously, she made her way down the sandy slope, where the crashing thunder of the waves stirred her heart and soul.
It wasn’t long before the captain saw her from the distance. He began walking, to meet her halfway.
“Emma,” he said.
“Good afternoon,” she replied.
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s up for debate.”
She looked down at her feet. “Indeed. Are you surviving all this chaos?”
“I’ve had better days.”
“Haven’t we all?”
They turned and stood side by side, facing the stormy horizon. Emma tasted the salty spray on her lips.
“Has there been any news of my men?” Captain Harris asked.
“Not yet.”
He shook his head mournfully.
“All we can do is pray,” Emma suggested. “And try not to lose hope. Sometimes luck is everything.”
“But luck can swing one way or the other. A single unexpected swell from the wrong direction could capsize them.” He gestured with a hand. “Look at that wild ocean out there.”
Emma agreed wholeheartedly. The odds were most certainly against those unfortunate men.
“If that happens,” she said, “I hope you won’t blame yourself. We all tried to stop them.”
“But they were under my command.” A seagull soared in front of them, then hovered low, floating on the wind. Captain Harris kept his eyes fixed on the bird. “They were my responsibility.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that.” Emma faced him. “But how can you take the blame for reckless decisions of foolish men? They disobeyed your orders, and it wasn’t your fault they drank too much whiskey. It was our crew in the staff house who gave it to them.”
“But they should have known better,” he insisted.
“Yes, they all should have, which, again”—she paused and put extra emphasis on her next words—“is not your fault.”
He considered her fiery speech while watching the seagull fly over their heads toward the dunes behind them. Then he turned to her. “You know a lot for someone so young.”
Something fluttered inside her, and she fumbled for words. “I don’t know about that.”
“It’s true. You’re wise beyond your years. Mindful and rational.”
Her cheeks reddened at the compliment, and she kicked at the sand with the toe of her boot. “I’m not used to receiving such high praise.”
He smiled warmly at her. “I doubt that.”
Emma’s blush deepened because she was aware of the nickname the staff men used behind her back. They called her “the Sable Beauty.” She dismissed it because there were so few young women on the island, and she was the only unmarried lady. That, she believed, was why they had singled her out.
“I don’t have relationships here, you know,” she said, not sure why she felt compelled to tell him this. Perhaps she didn’t want him to think she welcomed attention or was a flirt or a tease. “I mostly keep to myself.”
He gazed out at the swirling gray ocean. “That’s probably wise.”
They stood for a while, occasionally stepping back from the constant procession of waves as the tide rolled in, until Emma decided the captain needed to look at something new. She needed the same.
“Come with me,” she said.
Without hesitation, he followed, and they walked westward until they reached a break in the dune.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“To the old, abandoned main station. It’s a bit of a walk, but there’s a lovely rose garden there.”
“Roses? Imported, I assume.”
“No, they’re native. You’d be amazed at what grows here. We have cranberries and blueberries. As for the rose garden, the story goes that one of the previous superintendents planted it for his daughter who was in a wheelchair.”
They walked at a brisk pace, their footsteps in perfect sync as they tramped across the complex network of sandy horse trails through the dense heath.
“What is that?” the captain asked, stopping and staring.
Emma stopped as well. “That’s the old superintendent’s residence. This is where the community lived at the turn of the century.”
“But it’s half-buried.”
She took in the abandoned house with weathered gray clapboards. It was slowly being swallowed up by enormous drifts of sand that now reached the second-story windows in the front. Only then did she realize what an incredible sight it must be for someone who came from far away.
“Yes,” she replied. “That’s why the station was moved farther east—because the dunes are constantly shifting. Nothing ever stays the same around here. We can go inside if you like. An old calendar still hangs on the wall. It was left as a historical record, I suppose, to mark the day when they finally gave up trying to fight Mother Nature.”
She led him to the back of the house, where the level of the encroaching dune was less aggressive. Drifts of sand covered the steps, but Emma and the captain were able to enter through the back door.
“Clearly it needs a good sweeping,” Emma said facetiously.
“It might be a bit late for that.” The captain wandered around the main floor and spotted the calendar. “I can imagine archaeologists coming here, centuries from now, with their shovels and whisks, uncovering all this.”
“We don’t have to wait centuries,” Emma said. “We find things constantly. A few months ago, we found a ship’s wheel. I don’t know what vessel it came from, but we guessed it dated back to the 1700s.”
The captain faced her. “Do you still have it?”
“No, we sent it to a museum in Halifax. It’s still there if you want to see it.”
“I might.” He turned and wandered deeper into another room, where the wallpaper was peeling. “This entire place feels like a museum.”
“Yes,” Emma replied. “Or a tomb. Some of the men say there are ghosts here, but I don’t think so. I find it quite peaceful, sheltered from the noise of the ocean. Lately I’ve been coming here to write in my journal.” She pointed. “I sit in that chair.”
He turned to her with interest. “What do you write about?”
A flush of heat reached her cheeks. “Oh, just silly things. My dreams and goals for the future.”
“That’s not silly,” he replied, and she was caught by the low timbre of his voice and the blue of his eyes, which were so exceptionally unique. He listened to her attentively and didn’t seem to think her childish at all.
Suddenly, Emma worried that he could sense how fast her heart was beating and how her emotions were skittering out of control. There was something quite thrilling about this man, something different from anything she’d ever experienced before. Heat coursed through her body, and she reveled in the sensation. It made her feel happy and reckless.
She forced herself to speak calmly. “Why don’t we go and see the rose garden?”
He gestured gallantly toward the door. “Lead the way and I’ll follow.”
She smiled and walked out the door of the abandoned house.
A short while later, after strolling down meandering paths through low-lying junipers and bayberry bushes, and talking the whole way, they reached the rose garden.
“Here we are.” Emma led Captain Harris into the vast circular garden where dense bushes climbed up the surrounding slopes and towered over them. The perfume was overpowering.
“I’ve always thought of this as an oasis,” she said. “My very own private English garden.”
The captain was quiet as he strolled about. She watched him curiously and wondered what he was thinking.
“Though I’ve never been to England,” she added. “So, I have no idea if that label is appropriate.”
“It’s perfect,” he said. “It smells like home. My wife planted a hedge of roses in our back garden the year we were married, but it hasn’t had time to grow this tall.”
Emma felt a pang of disappointment, which made no sense because she had no claim on the captain, romantic or otherwise, and the fact that he had a wife should not come as a surprise. Of course he was married. He was at least ten years older than she, a man of the world. Any sort of crush on her part was pointless and inane.
“Do you have children?” she asked, making conversation, sensibly.
“I have two. A girl and a boy. Lydia and Arthur.”
What lovely names, she thought. How lucky he was.
“You must miss them when you’re at sea.”
“I miss them all the time,” he replied. “Even when I’m home, because I don’t see them very much.”
Emma’s eyebrows pulled together questioningly. “Why not?”
He circled the round garden while she stood in the center of it, quietly watching him and feeling desperate to know everything about him—his past experiences, his thoughts, and his feelings.
“A long time ago,” he explained, “I put my life at sea above everything else.” He glanced briefly at her. “This isn’t something I normally share, but ... well, my wife found another man, and we’ve been living separate lives ever since.”
This was not a subject Emma had ever discussed with anyone before, but it wasn’t awkward. To the contrary, it felt good to speak of intimate matters with the captain. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
He nodded, and she yearned to know more—to understand how a wife could not forgive her husband for his professional commitments.
“Was it because of the war?” she asked. “Is that why you were gone so much?”
“Yes,” he replied. “But it was a bit more complicated than that.” He fingered a few green leaves on the bushes and seemed reluctant to continue.
“Forgive me,” Emma said, lowering her gaze to the ground. “It’s none of my business. I’ve overstepped.”
“No need to apologize.” He faced her. “You’re inquisitive. That’s why you know so much for someone so young.”
“I’m not so young,” she disagreed openly. “I’m twenty-one, and I plan to go to university on the mainland in the fall. I’ve already been accepted to study psychology.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Well, well. Congratulations. Obviously, you’ve chosen the right path for yourself. You seem to have a keen interest in people’s thoughts and feelings.”
“Yes.” How good it felt to have someone recognize this and not treat her as if she were reaching too high or too far. “I do.”
“Hence all the questions,” he added.
She laughed and looked down at her feet. “My father’s afraid I might be treating you like a guinea pig.”
Captain Harris threw his head back and laughed. Then he pressed the heel of his hand to his temple.
“Oh dear,” Emma said, moving a little closer. “I’ve made your head pound.”
He squinted a little. “Yes, but at least you’ve distracted me from my demons for the past hour. That’s worth a small headache, in my opinion.”
“Demons?”
“You’ve never met anyone with demons before?” he asked, still squinting. “If you enter the psychology profession, you’ll meet your fair share.”
Emma stood back. “I’ve just never heard that term before. It’s why I need to get off this island and start talking to people.”
He nodded. “Isn’t it something, how life is constantly an education?”
She felt a sudden compulsion to ask him a thousand questions about all the things he had learned as a young man, as a sailor, a husband, and a father. She thought of all the nautical miles he must have crossed, the places he’d seen, the people he’d met, his experiences, good and bad, during the war. What a wealth of knowledge he must possess.
But Emma resisted the urge to probe him like the subject of an experiment. She remained quiet in the tranquility of the rose garden, because she sensed, deep down in her soul, that what the captain needed today was peace.
Eventually, they left the garden and walked together back to Main Station. Instead of walking on the beach, they stuck to the horse trails on the heath, walking single file and talking the entire time. When they reached the station, they stood on the high dune and gazed out at the raging ocean.
Captain Harris asked Emma many questions about life on Sable Island, and she answered all of them with pleasure and honesty while she marveled at the extraordinary power of the sea, of fate, and of life.