Chapter 21
Chapter 21
It was like walking into an explosion of fragrance.
Oliver followed Emma into the circular garden, where the bushes had flourished and grown more densely together. The pale-pink roses were in full bloom.
“You were right,” he said. “It’s barely recognizable.”
Emma walked backward, facing him. “I didn’t come here for years after you left. Life was so busy, looking after Matthew when he was a baby. I only returned for the first time a few months ago, so I had the same reaction you’re having now.”
They strolled in silence, apart, smelling the soft petals and admiring the astonishing array of blooms.
“It’s amazing how nature can endure like this,” Oliver said. “In the open Atlantic. Completely out of sight.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I have to ask ... Have you ever thought about trying again to go to university?”
Emma laughed. “Not in years.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m busy. I have Matthew.”
He nodded and sauntered around the garden. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“But you did,” she said. “Why?”
He regarded her in the dappled shadows of the evening light, and the way her hips swayed when she turned away from him.
“You wanted it so badly before,” he said, “and you’d be good at it. Being a psychologist, I mean.”
Emma fingered the tiniest twiglike branches of a younger shrub, low to the ground. “It’s a nice thought, but I’m a mother now.”
“Maybe you could be both.”
Something flirtatious sparked in her eyes as she gave him a sidelong look of warning. “You’re going to have to stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Stirring up old hopes and dreams.”
Good God, he was completely enraptured. “Why?”
“Because it’s pointless,” she replied. “I’m not that person anymore.”
She spoke willfully, but Oliver didn’t believe her. Not for one single second.
“And I don’t want to pine for the road not taken,” she added. “Or feel as if I gave up on something, or quit like a coward. This is the life I chose , Oliver, and I told you I have no regrets.”
She sat down on the old weatherworn bench and looked up at him with an expression that beckoned, and Oliver sat down beside her.
Emma squeezed her hands together on her lap. Damn this man. Damn Captain Oliver Harris.
She’d thought all this was behind her. Her life had certainly taken some unexpected turns that she might not have chosen at the time, but she was happy with where she’d ended up—back on Sable Island with her father and a son who meant everything to her.
Why did Oliver have to come back and upend everything? Make her doubt her choices and long for the paths not taken?
Turning her head, she looked at him sharply. “Why did you come back here?”
“I told you,” he replied. “Because I wanted to see you.”
“But why ? You thought I was married, but you came anyway. Didn’t it occur to you that it might be awkward, considering our last conversation on the beach when you left?”
For a few seconds, he seemed lost for words, but soon managed to form a reply. “I’d hoped enough time had passed.”
“For you , maybe. But what happened that week left me absolutely wrecked. It crushed all my confidence, and when Logan came along, I wanted so badly to forget you that I practically dove into his arms.”
“Emma . . .”
Her pulse was racing. All the pent-up hurt and anger that she’d repressed over the past seven years came surging out of her, and she wanted to lash out at him, to express everything.
She stood and strode to the other side of the garden. “Please don’t try and tell me that you didn’t mean to hurt me, or that everything happens the way it’s meant to. I told you I’ll never regret anything because I have Matthew now, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. But that doesn’t mean I want to be friends with you, which seems to be the reason you came here. So that we could all be best pals.”
He looked away, toward the ocean.
“Well, that can’t happen,” she insisted fiercely. “Because I don’t want to get caught up in that whirlwind again.”
“What whirlwind?”
“Where I start to dream about you!” She swung her arm about. “Last night, I couldn’t wait to wake up and drive to East Light and see you this morning. I hardly slept a wink. I tossed and turned, trying not to think about you, but it was impossible. And today, I forced myself to stay away from you, but you had to send Matthew into the house and invite me on that damn walk to see the stupid seal!”
She stared at him heatedly and fought to quiet her fury, then wished she had the discipline to keep her feelings to herself. But clearly, her emotional floodgates had broken completely open. He probably thought her mad for ranting like a hysteric.
“Emma, you’re mistaken if you think you were the only one tossing and turning last night.”
She drew back slightly as he stood up.
“And I can’t believe,” he continued, “that you have no idea how badly I wanted you back then. That you didn’t recognize that it was torture for me to pretend otherwise. But I had to because I was a married man, years older than you, and it was completely inappropriate. I said the things I did because I wanted you to move on.”
Emma frowned with confusion, not entirely sure she could believe or accept this. Everything in her mind was telling her to reject it. “You were expecting me to read between the lines?”
“I suppose I was, yes. And when I asked my wife for a divorce,” he continued, “it was because I thought that ... maybe eventually ... I could come back here, see you again, and things would be different. But then your father wrote and told me about your marriage, so I accepted my father-in-law’s offer in Manchester and did my best to move on.”
Emma was still in a daze of denial, and now she was fighting tears. “Then why did you come back yesterday if you thought I was married? What was the point in that?”
He lowered his head in defeat. “I don’t know. God knows I tried to resist coming here. I did resist it—for years —which wasn’t easy every time I steamed past this island on my way to America.” He looked up and waved his hand through the air, as if he were conducting an orchestra, grasping for an explanation. “Maybe I thought coming here would put an end to that stubborn little dream in the back of my head. Maybe if I saw you happily married to another man, I’d stop romanticizing what happened between us that week and accept reality.”
The mention of reality left Emma in a state of incomprehension, not entirely sure if this was actually happening. She strolled to the garden entrance and looked out at the rolling dunes. The marram grass blew, but inside the circle of roses, the world was sheltered, and still its own special little world.
“You kept in touch with my father,” she said with her back to Oliver. “Why didn’t he tell you what happened with my husband? We’ve been apart for seven years.”
“I don’t know. That’s a question you’ll have to ask him. I’d like to know the answer myself.”
Emma gazed up at the misty clouds and the rapidly changing light across the sky. It had been nearly an hour since the captain had sent his men away with the supplies. They would be back for him soon. A dreadful heaviness settled into her heart.
“Your tender is probably on its way.”
“My men can wait,” he replied and strode closer until he stood beside her in the garden entrance.
Emma kept her eyes down and struggled to control her breathing.
“Look at me,” Oliver said.
Reluctantly, she turned to him.
“When you told me that your husband wasn’t here, and that he was no longer in the picture, I was overjoyed.”
Emma should have been thrilled by this confession, but she could only gaze up at Oliver with wariness—because he could do it again. He could leave in a few minutes and never come back.
That thought sent her pride bucking.
“You were glad? Why? What did you imagine would happen? That I’d become infatuated with you again and all would be forgotten?”
He slowly shook his head. “No, I could see that you’d changed, and there was a wall between us. It’s still there now.”
She looked away. “I don’t know why you’re telling me all this.”
“Because I want you to know the truth. I want honesty between us.”
“For what purpose?”
“That depends on you.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” he said. “We’re both married, but not happily. I’ve never been able to forget you, and I’d like the chance to be with you, Emma.”
A battle was still raging inside her, and it made her feel cold and antagonistic. “What are you suggesting? That I become your mistress? Isn’t that what they call it in your country?”
“No. That’s not what I want.” He paused and took a breath. “Ever since I left you on that beach, I’ve imagined all sorts of scenarios. I’ve imagined what I would do if I found out your husband had died. I pictured myself giving you the proper amount of time you’d need to grieve. Then I would somehow win you back. Then we would marry, and I’d retire from the sea.”
She stared at him with brows drawn together in disbelief. “You imagined that?”
“Yes. Every possible logistic.”
Emma couldn’t lie. Over the years, she’d imagined similar things and worked out, in her head, every obstacle. “I don’t know what to say.” She couldn’t think straight. “Your men are probably out there by now, waiting for you,” she reminded him.
Oliver gazed toward the Atlantic, thunderous in the distance, and a muscle twitched at his jaw. He took Emma’s face in his hands. “Please, just tell me there’s hope.”
But Emma was afraid to hope. More than once, hope had only sent her plummeting from the clouds to the earth and had caused her dreadful pain.
“I’m married,” she said. “And so are you.”
“But do you love him?”
Her answer came all too easily. “No. I thought I did at first. Maybe I did, because he helped me forget you for a while. But he’s not a part of my life anymore.”
“Neither is my wife.”
“But your children . . .”
“I’ll always be their father, and they know it. They’re old enough to understand that now.” His voice was steady, and his eyes were clear.
Emma felt a wave of panic charging suddenly toward her. He was suggesting the kind of relationship she’d wanted in the beginning, and she would have walked through fire to hear him say these things seven years ago. But nothing was the same as it was. She wasn’t the same person. She’d been here before and done this before.
“I’ll be broken after you go,” she said. “Just like last time.”
He pulled her into his arms and spoke close in her ear. “No, you won’t, because I’ll promise to come back.”
“But when?”
“As soon as I can.” His breath was hot and moist in her ear. “If you tell me there’s hope, at Christmas, I’ll bring a ring for you. I’ll get down on one knee and propose properly.”
Trembling, Emma stepped back. A part of her was still afraid to believe this was truly happening.
He laid his hand on her cheek and looked into her eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes to never say goodbye to you again.”
“How?”
“I’ll file for divorce. I’ll come back here a free man—or a soon-to-be free man. Then we can make plans.”
“But I won’t be free,” she reminded him. “I’ll still be married.”
“Do you want to stay married?” he asked.
It was another question that was easy to answer. “Not to Logan.”
A smile spread across Oliver’s face, and he laughed. His joy was contagious, and she found herself laughing too.
He cupped her face in his hands again. “Emma. Please. Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
His lips found hers, and the pressure of his mouth sent her heart into a frenzy. She grasped blindly for his face and slid her hands around the back of his neck to pull him closer, to deepen the kiss—a kiss she’d dreamed about for what felt like an eternity.
Their bodies melded together in the fading light. Oliver led her deeper into the heart of the garden, and Emma followed willingly. He got down on his knees and held out a hand. Emma knelt too. Then she lay back and reached her arms out to him. He covered her body with his, kissed her deeply, and laid light kisses across her cheek and down the side of her neck.
A soft breeze whispered through the greenery, and the perfume of the roses was like a fine wine sliding into Emma’s soul. It was the most welcome, exquisite intoxication, which made it easy to ignore the vague and distant voice in her head that was warning her to be careful and protect her heart. She was still afraid of losing this man, but she’d wanted him for too long. She couldn’t possibly deny herself this pleasure, the fulfillment of a dream. Whatever happened between them, even if she never saw him again, she knew she could never regret this. She would cherish the memory for the rest of her life.
In the magic that followed, Emma pushed aside any fears about the future. All that mattered was this gift of rapture as they made love. It was like floating inside a dream.
Afterward, Oliver held Emma in his arms. “I promise I’ll be back by Christmas. But for now, take this.” He removed his gold signet ring and handed it to her.
She slid it onto her index finger, but it was too big. “I’ll wear it on the chain with my mother’s locket.”
She was almost delirious with happiness.
For a long while, they clung to each other, skin against skin in the shelter of the garden, their foreheads touching, while the ocean roared in the distance, beyond the high dune.
“We should go,” she finally said, still breathless but thinking of his crew in the tender boat, waiting on the shoreline.
“You don’t like to be late, do you.” His voice was husky and low, touched with amusement, and he brushed his nose against hers. “We’re the same, you and me. God, I don’t want to leave you.”
“I don’t want you to leave either,” she replied. “I hate this.”
He took hold of her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. “Walk me to the beach. And I swear, this time, goodbye won’t be forever.”
They helped each other to rise and dress and attend to the fastenings of their clothes. Then they left the privacy of the garden and began the journey back to the beach.
Outside in the open, where the wind blew steadily and the sand shifted beneath Emma’s feet, the dream slowly began to recede, and the dread of his departure gained traction.
“I’ll return soon,” Oliver promised, as if he could read her thoughts. “After that, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll stay here if you like. Or I’ll take you to England, or the mainland. You could go to university if you still want that. Or if you don’t, that’s fine too. I’m done with my own ambitions, Emma. I’ve seen enough of life without you. I only want to be with you and make you happy.”
“I’ll be happy no matter where we are,” she replied. But as she spoke the words, she felt as if she were playacting, fighting to hold on to the dream, to believe in it, even though it still felt distant and out of reach. What could she do but pray? Pray for everything to work out as he promised it would.
Soon, they came to the beach. Oliver stopped and took Emma into his arms again. He held her close, and she prepared herself for the painful agony of goodbye.
“When I come back,” he said, “I’ll speak to your father. And I don’t care what it takes. Whatever we need to do to be together, we’ll do it.”
The tender boat was waiting on the sand, its solid hull weathering the steady stroke of the waves. The men sitting in the boat were quiet, their gazes averted.
Oliver kissed Emma goodbye, then finally tore himself away and jogged to the boat. He grabbed hold of the stern and leaned into a heavy thrust to launch it. As soon as it lifted off the sand and floated, he leaped into it with impressive agility and sat on a bench facing Emma, who stood on the beach.
The boat rose and fell over the wild surf, and their gazes held. They watched each other raptly.
Emma clasped her hands together over her heart, and remained on the beach for more than an hour until the Overton ’s anchor was raised. With dark smoke billowing from her twin stacks, she steamed onward, and Emma watched until eventually she disappeared around the western tip of the island.