Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Sable Island
July 16, 1954
Hello Papa,
I hope you are well. All is well with us, but I have some news to share. I hope you’re sitting down.
Last month, I arrived home from an afternoon walk with Rose and was greeted at the door by Logan. He’d paid a visit without notice, and Ruth was as shocked to see him as I was. He explained that he’s been out of prison for some time and was finally permitted to leave Saskatchewan.
As you know, Matthew has always been curious about his father, and he was excited to finally meet him in person. In a way, it’s been a good thing. Sometimes the mystery of something creates a certain ideal—good or bad—that doesn’t exist in real life. And you know what they say ... what is forbidden is coveted. So, I didn’t want to stand between them in any way.
At any rate, Matthew has been enjoying the time he’s been spending with Logan, playing ball and going fishing in a boat they borrowed from a friend of Logan’s from St. Margaret’s Bay. Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed it, but Ruth was willing to lend her car to Logan for the day, so I relented. Matthew came home with a bucket of fresh fish on ice, and he was as happy as I’d ever seen him. The pictures I’ve enclosed were taken in Ruth’s backyard after we all helped to clean the fish. Quite an adventure, I admit.
Darling Papa—I know how you feel about Logan. What we went through was unpleasant, to say the least, but since his return, I don’t feel it would be right to cut him out of Matthew’s life. I’m sure Matthew would never forgive me for it. So, I think we will have to find a way to be a family in some form or another.
John lowered the letter to his lap and felt a grave gnawing in his gut. He was seated in the open Jeep, watching the unloading of supplies on the beach. He was supposed to be supervising, but with the sudden increased blood flow to his extremities, his vision became clouded.
Emma ... What were you thinking, allowing a killer back into your life? Near your children? He strangled a man to death!
Stomach burning, John raised the letter to continue reading Emma’s letter ...
Which brings me to my next question, which you’ve been avoiding for many months now. Will you leave Sable Island once and for all, and come to Halifax? Ruth has an extra bedroom which you are welcome to use, or if you prefer to find a place of your own, there are plenty of options in the city.
I know how much you love Sable Island, and I won’t lie—I’m asking you to come for selfish reasons because I miss you, and so does Matthew, and I would love for Rose to know her grandfather. I’ll be busy over the next year with my studies, and Matthew will be settled into school, so a visit to Sable Island will be unlikely any time soon.
I know it’s a lot to ask because you’ve given your life to the Humane Establishment, but perhaps the government could find another dedicated person to take over the position? You could retire with great pride, having saved many lives during your impressive career.
Food for thought, Papa! Selfish of me, for sure. But I miss you and I want you close by.
With love,
Emma
With a sudden jolt, John remembered that Emma had mentioned some photographs. He quickly dug back into the envelope and withdrew them.
Oh, Emma! So beautiful. And Ruth, smiling ...
John flipped to the next black-and-white photograph.
Darling Matthew—holding a fish.
John had to squint to view the details. He lowered his glasses to the tip of his nose and peered over the metal rims. The last picture showed Emma with Rose in her arms, Matthew, and Logan. They stood together, arm in arm, behind a bucket of fish in Ruth’s backyard. They looked like the happy family they might have been if Logan hadn’t turned out to be such a rotter.
John sat back in the Jeep and rubbed his forefinger repeatedly over his eyebrow.
Roger Smith, the new weather station chief, came trudging through the deep sand with one last crate in his arms. Roger was twenty-four years old with no wife or children. Keen for adventure, he’d come to Sable for a one-year contract. His goal in life was to travel the world before he settled down somewhere, anywhere.
“That’s it for us,” Roger said jauntily as he set the crate in the back of the Jeep and came around to the driver’s seat. He got in and slammed the door shut.
They sat for a moment, watching the last surfboat rise and fall over the waves as the crew rowed back to the Argyle . Staff men on the beach finished loading a few more barrels onto the horse-drawn wagons, but John was distracted.
“What do you have there?” Roger asked, looking down at the pictures in John’s hand.
He handed them over. “That’s my daughter, Emma.”
Roger looked closely at each one. “She’s very beautiful.”
“Yes.” John was suddenly overcome with sorrow and longing. “They used to call her the Sable Beauty. I raised her here since she was a baby, and we had a wonderful life.”
What he wouldn’t give to return to those days—reading bedtime stories, exploring the ponds, and teaching his little girl to ride a horse.
What he wouldn’t give to live his whole life again.
“That’s her son, Matthew,” John said, “and her new baby.”
“I assume that’s her husband?” Roger asked, examining the last photograph.
John’s stomach clenched tight with agitation. What the devil was happening on the mainland? It had been weeks since Emma had posted the letter. Was Logan still there?
“Yes. That’s him,” he replied. “They were married for less than a year before he was sent to prison for killing a man.”
Roger’s mouth fell open, and he gaped at John. “No kidding.” He examined the photograph more closely. “He doesn’t look like a killer.” He passed the photos back to John, who slipped them into the envelope.
“He claims it was self-defense, but the courts called it manslaughter. I still have my doubts.”
“And your daughter waited for him?”
“I wouldn’t say waited ,” John replied. “But she never divorced him. Now he’s out of jail and back in her life again.”
Roger started the engine, pressed his foot to the gas pedal, and steered the Jeep toward Main Station. As they picked up speed on the beach, John gazed out at the gloomy gray ocean and thought about what Emma had written in her letter.
He turned to Roger, behind the wheel. “For months, my daughter’s been trying to convince me to leave Sable and join her in Halifax to be close to my grandchildren.”
Roger glanced briefly at John. “Does she know they’re shutting us down?”
John rubbed his palm on his pant leg. “Not yet, but I wrote to her about it yesterday. The letter went out with the ship today. She’ll be shocked when she reads it—and sad—because it’s the end of an era.”
Roger agreed. “All these newfangled ships, eh? With radar and sonar and who knows what else?”
John spotted a few horses grazing on the high dune. They raised their heads at the roar of the Jeep, then galloped away in perfect unison and disappeared over the rise.
“You’re too young to remember,” John said, “but there was a time when shipwrecks were a regular occurrence here. We were busy, taking care of survivors and salvaging cargo. Now the lifesaving crew just trots up and down the empty beaches, day after day, carrying out pointless patrols. You’ve seen them. It’s hard to keep up morale when the work seems so futile. I’m not surprised they’ve cut our funding.”
In all honesty, John was glad. It was time to go.
“I guess you can’t fight progress,” Roger said as he shifted into a higher gear and increased speed on the beach.
“I suppose not,” John replied, and looked down at the envelope that contained photographs of his daughter, his grandchildren, and his son-in-law, Logan. “But sometimes we have to try. Take me to the wireless station, will you? I need to contact the ship right away, before she leaves.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m getting off this island today.”
John had an itch to scratch—a hankering to grab Logan by the throat and remind him what would happen to him if he ever hurt Emma again. If the man had any sense, he’d never put another foot wrong for the rest of his days.