Chapter 13
Chapter 13
In June, with the welcome arrival of warmer temperatures, Emma covered more distance during her morning rides on the beaches with Willow. These were the special moments when she took time to think about her future and reflect upon the present. Since her father’s accident, the house had become a place of dark moods and occasional bursts of temper, followed by tears and apologies. But he was slowly recovering and becoming more accustomed to his mobility challenges. Emma did her best to boost his spirits and only wished she knew more about applied psychological therapies.
Earlier in the spring, she’d felt as if she were sitting on a blank page between two chapters in her life: the happy times before the accident and whatever might come next. Maybe another dramatic event from out of the blue would carry her away, somewhere unexpected. The wreck of the Belvedere had swept her into a whirlwind of emotions and, more recently, onto a path of new wisdom regarding her feelings and desires for the future.
This became apparent to her one morning mid-June, when she felt hopeful for the first time in a long while. She and Willow galloped all the way to Station Number Two, working up a sweat until Emma finally leaned back in the saddle and said, “Whoa!”
Willow slowed, and Emma patted her neck. “Good girl. What a run!”
She wheeled Willow around to walk home at a more leisurely pace.
Before long, Emma spotted another rider in the distance, probably one of the staff men on beach patrol. When he drew near, he removed his cap and waved it in the air. “Good morning!”
It was Logan, the new man. Emma pulled Willow to a gentle halt as they came together in the shade of an eroded dune.
“I see they’ve put you on the early-morning shift,” Emma said.
Logan’s cheeks were red from exertion, his body full of restrained energy in the saddle. Even his bay horse was restless, stomping about.
“I wouldn’t call it a graveyard shift,” he said, “but none of the others seemed eager to take it.”
“I hope they’re not giving you last choice for every chore,” Emma replied.
He shrugged cheerfully. “It wouldn’t matter. I’m grateful to be here, and I enjoy everything. Even cleaning the toilets. Well, maybe not that. But I’m a morning person by nature, so this early patrol on horseback sets me up for a first-rate day. I mean ... What could be better than this?” He waved his arm about and gestured toward the sea and sky.
Emma laughed. “You’re a jolly person, aren’t you.”
His eyebrows flew up in mock surprise. “Are you making fun of me, Miss Clarkson?”
She laughed again. “Not at all. It’s refreshing, actually. And I agree, what could be better than this?”
They fell into step beside each other as he turned his horse around to walk back to Main Station.
As they trotted past a herd of gray seals sunning themselves on the beach, Logan asked, “Are you afraid of the seals after what happened to your father?”
“I’ve always been cautious around them,” she told him.
“But you must feel some animosity.”
Emma considered that carefully. “How could I? As far as I’m concerned, Sable belongs to the wild. We’re just guests here.”
“Or intruders,” he suggested, studying her profile.
Surprised, she turned in the saddle to meet his gaze. “That’s probably the most accurate term I’ve heard. Although it depends on how we behave while we’re here. We don’t always do the right thing.”
“How do you mean?”
Sometimes Emma felt like a broken record, going on about the situation with the wild horses, but it was an important cause that mattered to her. “Sometimes we capture horses and ship them to the mainland for sale. I’ve been trying to put a stop to that for years.”
Logan took a moment to digest this. “How does your father feel about it? He’s superintendent here. He must have some say in the matter.”
“Yes,” Emma replied. “Deep down, he doesn’t like it, but he’s hesitant to ruffle feathers because of how much we depend on the government for our survival.” She steered Willow around a large section of driftwood and returned to Logan on the other side. “So, he doesn’t stop me from protesting with regular letters, and I live in hope that eventually we’ll have the right sort of politician in charge who understands the cruelty of it. Until then, I’ll keep writing and protesting.”
They paused to let their horses nibble on some salty peat. Emma and Logan gazed out at the ocean and listened to the waves breaking on the shore.
After a moment, Logan crossed his wrists over the saddle horn. “Do you remember our first conversation in your father’s den, the day I arrived?”
“Yes.”
“He mentioned you had notebooks.”
“About the herds.” Emma kicked her heels to get Willow moving again. “Yes, I remember, and my father offered them to you freely, without my permission.”
Logan followed. “I understand what you’re saying. I wouldn’t have liked it much if I were in your shoes—to have my life’s work handed over to someone else, who might take all the credit and glory.”
Emma glanced over her shoulder and chuckled. “I wasn’t thinking in those terms exactly. But yes, I felt a certain degree of ... let’s just say I’m a bit territorial.”
“Understood.” Logan removed his cap, scratched the top of his head, and replaced it. “But it hardly matters, because I haven’t had time to be the least bit scholarly. Joseph keeps me too busy.”
Emma glanced across at him. “I’ve seen you practicing drills on the beach.”
“And in the station yard,” he said, “and during the patrols, and inside the staff house ... it never ends. But I do believe I’m ready for the worst shipwreck of the century, and I’ll know exactly what to do. But do they even happen anymore? With radar and sonar and all that?”
Emma shook her head. “Hardly ever. So it’s lucky that you came here to see this place when you did. I’m waiting for the government to render us all obsolete. Then no one would live here.”
They approached the break in the high dune that took them back to Main Station.
Logan locked eyes with her. “Any chance we could make a date to talk about your research? I’d love to see your notebooks and learn what you know about herd behavior. And I promise, if I ever publish, I’d cite you as a source and give you full credit for any material you share with me.”
She pulled Willow to a halt. “I shouldn’t admit this to you, but I don’t know the first thing about citations or how to write university-level papers.”
His eyes sparkled, and his voice brimmed with excitement. “I can teach you about that. But it’s not exactly a fair trade, depending on how much of your research I end up using. Maybe we should be coauthors.”
Coauthors? Emma sat back in the saddle and considered the long summer ahead. A project like this might be the perfect diversion from the challenges of her day-to-day life, baking bread, helping to cook for the staff, and waiting for her future to begin.
“That sounds intriguing,” she said.
He smiled. “Wonderful. When can we meet?”
“How about tonight after supper? Come to the house, and I’ll dust off my notebooks.”
Logan’s excitement seemed to rouse his young horse, who spun in a circle, raring to bolt. “I owe you the world!”
Emma laughed. “That’s a lofty price tag. I’ll be satisfied with an author credit on your paper if we produce something worthwhile.”
Logan held out his hand. “It’s a deal.”
They shook on it.
Emma grinned and urged Willow into a fast trot. With the fresh sea breeze in her hair, she felt a pleasant rush of anticipation. It was just the sort of visceral sensation she’d never expected to feel again.
Logan arrived after supper, and Emma served biscuits and tea in the great room. Her father was present, of course, reading a book in his leather easy chair, glancing up frequently with interest while they pored over Emma’s notes, which were spread out on the coffee table before them.
It had been years since Emma had read the journals she’d kept as a young girl. Most of the entries were childishly written, but interesting facts emerged about the horses and other wildlife on the island, including encounters with beetles and insects. Thankfully she’d never written about movie stars—or worse, any handsome young staff men.
When the hour grew late, Emma’s father began to yawn—a not-so-subtle signal that it was time for Logan to leave—so they packed up their books and papers, and Emma escorted him to the door.
“I can’t thank you enough,” he said as he shrugged into his wool coat. “I hope we can do this again. It feels like we barely scratched the surface.”
“I agree. Are you free tomorrow evening at the same time?”
He spoke heartily. “I’ll make sure of it. Maybe getting up at the crack of dawn for those early patrols will pay off if it means I can have free time after dinner.”
“The early bird gets the worm,” she replied. “Good night. Sleep well.” Emma closed the door behind him.
When she returned to the great room, her father reached for his cane. “It sounded like a productive evening.”
“It was,” she replied. “And it’s so strange. I’d forgotten about some of the things I wrote. In a way, it was a trip down memory lane.”
Her father rose from his chair and limped to the kitchen. “For me too, listening to the passages you read aloud.” He seemed in good spirits as he set his teacup and saucer on the counter. “It was good to have company tonight. It was a nice change.”
It was, indeed, Emma thought as she watched him walk to the stairs. “Good night, Papa.”
“Good night, sweetheart.”
Emma let out a sigh of contentment. How wonderful that he could now manage the stairs on his own.
Over the next several days, Emma went for her regular morning ride on North Beach and met Logan consistently, at the end of his patrol. They became accustomed to the “coincidence” of bumping into each other and established a habit of riding back to Main Station together. Conversation was never strained as they discussed research methods, naturalist philosophies, and what Emma might expect from her teachers and fellow students when she began her formal education in the fall.
With each passing day, she felt more inspired and confident about her future at university. It was Logan who made it so. He assured her that most high school graduates were not nearly as educated as she.
They also discussed their personal histories. Logan described his upbringing on a large commercial farm on the Saskatchewan prairies, where the land stretched from one horizon to the other, as far as the eye could see. It was incredible for Emma to imagine such vast stretches of land, having grown up on a narrow strip of sand in the open Atlantic, barely a mile wide.
As for Logan, the way of life on Sable Island was equally astounding. He never failed to be amazed by how fast the fog could roll in off the water and make everything disappear.
“I think you should start a petition,” Logan suggested one evening as they discussed the inhumane treatment of the horses when they were removed from the island and shipped to the mainland.
“And get thirty-five signatures?” she asked, referring to the population of Sable. “That’s if I’m lucky. Not all the men would sign it.” Her blood began to boil, and she scribbled furiously on the page in front of her. “Some take a disgusting pleasure in rounding up the horses.”
Logan leaned close and lowered his voice in front of Emma’s father, who was reading in his chair. “I think I know the ones you’re referring to,” he whispered.
She looked at him and nodded, and they said nothing more about it as they flipped through another journal.
“You could gather names when you start classes at Dalhousie,” Logan suggested, circling back to the idea of a petition. “By the end of the first week, you might have enough to make a difference with the politicians.”
“That’s brilliant,” she replied. “I’m going to do that.”
Sitting close to Logan on the sofa, Emma was aware of their elbows and thighs touching. He nudged her playfully with his shoulder, and they grinned at each other, then glanced cautiously at her father, who was starting to nod off in his chair.
“I should probably go,” Logan whispered.
“Yes, I think it’s time to call it a night.”
Emma stood and walked him to the door, where he donned his jacket, buttoned it, and then looked at her surreptitiously.
“Will you come outside with me?” he asked, still whispering. “Just for a minute.”
There was a thrilling intimacy in his eyes, and she couldn’t resist.
“All right.” Emma strove to be quiet as she opened the door and followed Logan down the porch steps.
Outside, the moon was full. The sky was dusted with stars. Waves crashed thunderously onto the beach beyond the high dune.
Emma tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and inhaled the fresh, salty fragrance of the Atlantic. “Summer is so brief here. I want to soak up every moment.”
When she opened her eyes, Logan was standing before her, his gaze level with hers. “Emma ... I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Her cheeks flushed with heat, and she remembered her first impression of him on the beach when she’d judged him as a heartbreaker. Now that she knew him better, she was letting down her guard, and so far, she had no regrets about that. The past week had been wonderful, like a dream.
“I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m around you,” he added.
She laughed nervously. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I’m going to trip over my own feet. You’re all I think about every minute of the day. I can barely sleep when I know I might see you on the beach the next morning. I’m always so glad when you’re there, galloping toward me. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t show up. I’d probably wither away and die.”
Emma frowned. “Don’t joke about that.”
“I’ll hate it when you leave for school. It won’t be the same after you’re gone,” he replied. He took hold of her hand, opened her palm, and Emma gasped when he kissed it. He held his lips there a moment, and she felt his breath become trapped against her flesh. Shivers of delight rippled through her.
“Logan ...” She wasn’t sure if she was warning him to stop or pleading with him to continue.
“Can I kiss you good night?” he asked.
Before she had a chance to think too hard about it, she nodded.
He moved a little closer, cupped her face in both his hands ... looked deeply into her eyes, and then kissed her tenderly on the mouth. His lips were soft and warm, and the kiss sent tremors through her body.
Gracefully, he drew the kiss to a smooth finish, stepped back, and looked at her with wonder. “I didn’t expect to meet someone like you when I came here. I just wanted to disappear for a while. And work on that project.”
“We are working on it,” she reminded him, while her heart raced.
He grinned. “Is that what we’re doing?”
Emma brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure.” She felt suddenly shy, along with a need to be cautious. She’d fallen too hard once before and didn’t want to get hurt like that again.
Logan must have sensed her hesitation because he took another step back. “Thank you for the tea. Everything about tonight was wonderful.”
He turned and walked toward the staff house. Emma remained on the bottom step, watching him grow distant in the misty glow of the outdoor lights until he stopped and looked back.
“Will you be riding tomorrow morning, as usual?” he shouted across the yard.
“Of course!” she answered. “Unless it’s raining cats and dogs.”
“Then I’ll pray for sun!”
As he was backing up, he stumbled over the uneven ground and nearly fell, but was cheerful and undaunted, making Emma laugh as he turned and began to jog. Seconds later, he reached the large Quonset hut and went inside.
For a moment, Emma stood and looked up at the stars. It was all so astonishingly beautiful: The night sky. The constant roar of the ocean. Life. Eventually, she climbed the porch steps and smiled when she reached the door. There was so much joy in her heart. Where had it come from? The night sky? Or the kiss? Or both?
Inside the great room, her father was snoring in his chair. She went to him with love and shook him gently. “Papa, it’s time to go to bed.”
He woke with a start. “Already? Is Logan gone?”
“Yes, he left a few minutes ago.”
Her father reached for his cane. “He’s a nice young man. I like him.”
“Me too.”
“Shame I didn’t get to say good night.”
Emma held his elbow to support him as he rose from the chair.
“I can’t complain, though,” he added, “because I was dreaming about your mother just now.”
“Was it a good dream?” Emma asked.
“Oh yes. She walked in from the kitchen and told me that I should go to bed. She said she couldn’t fall asleep without me. It was like having a little visit from her.”
Emma walked with him to the bottom of the stairs and couldn’t help but feel sadness and sympathy for her father, who had slept alone for the past twenty years, missing the only woman he’d ever loved.
She supposed that his loneliness for her mother, like an inheritance, was buried deep inside her bones.