Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Sable Island, August 1955
Oliver jumped out of the tender boat and landed in the cold frothy salt water of the North Atlantic. A few gray seals lounged on the beach, basking in the warmth and humidity of a cloud-covered summer day. They watched him, but otherwise seemed wholly undisturbed by his arrival.
He dragged his boat up the sandy slope, reached a safe distance away from the incoming waves, and then doubled over in exhaustion, fighting to catch his breath. He was still down twenty pounds since his rescue and return to England, and his appetite had not fully returned. His doctors had advised him not to travel, but here he stood, back on the beach on Sable Island after sending an urgent wireless message to Emma: I’m Alive. On My Way to You. Oliver.
As soon as he recovered from the exertion, he left his boat and trudged across the deep, shifting sands toward the high dune and Main Station beyond. Oliver felt like a starving man, dehydrated, crossing a desert, desperate for water—but it wasn’t water he wanted. It was the sight of Emma.
Finally, he made it through the break in the high dune and stopped to catch his breath again and take in the view of Main Station—the familiar cluster of white buildings and Quonset huts. All at once, a flood of emotion erupted inside him. He’d never imagined he’d live to see this place again, but here it was, just as he’d remembered in his dreams. His prayers had been answered.
Overcome with relief and gratitude, and overwhelmed by the incredible gift of his good luck, Oliver fell to his knees on the sand, broke down, and wept rapturously.
When he finally recovered himself, he rose unsteadily to his feet, looked across the station yard at the Clarkson house, and his heart began to race with anticipation. He wanted to run, but he didn’t have the strength. All he could do was put one foot in front of the other, unrelenting.
The wind off the ocean blew his hair in all directions, and he continued, trudging toward the superintendent’s residence. He was so fixed on the Clarkson house that he failed to notice that there was no one about. Nor did he observe that the door to the staff house was flung open and banging against the outside wall.
Oliver finally reached Emma’s door and knocked repeatedly, but no one answered. Still eager and hopeful, assuming they were all off on some errand or gathering on another part of the island, he descended the steps. Only then did he perceive the air of abandonment. Solitude. His gaze moved from the open door at the staff house to the dead blooms in the hanging flowerpot outside Emma’s door. The clouds hovered low. The wind blew steadily across the marram grass on the dune, and the vast gray ocean roared.
Where was everyone?
Then he saw a man jogging toward him.
“Greetings! Welcome to Sable Island!”
The young man was a stranger to Oliver. Feeling a bit muddled, his thoughts in disarray, he relied on the dependable rules of social etiquette. “Good morning!” he shouted across the station yard.
They reached each other on one of the concrete sidewalks and held out their hands. “I’m Oliver Harris,” he said, “here to pay a visit to Emma Clarkson, or her father, John. I’m an old friend.”
“Welcome,” the young man replied. “I’m Roger Smith, weather station chief. But I’m afraid you’re too late. John left a month ago, and everyone else left just the other day.”
Oliver shook his head and frowned. “What do you mean, everyone?”
Roger shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “You didn’t hear? The lifesaving establishment was gutted. The government didn’t see much need for it anymore, which makes sense, to be honest. There hasn’t been a shipwreck here in almost ten years.”
“Nineteen forty-six,” Oliver replied with dismay as the news slowly sank in.
Roger shrugged. “Maybe that was it. I don’t know, exactly. I’ve only been here since the spring. But you know what they say: you can’t fight progress. So now my job is the only one that seems relevant. Except for the wireless operators, I guess.”
Oliver spoke in a rush. “I sent a message a couple of weeks ago. It was meant for Emma. Do you know if she received it?”
Roger made a face. “I don’t know about that. There’s been some turnover and a lot of confusion since the announcement came. And she hasn’t been here for a while. She was long gone when I arrived.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Roger cheerfully replied. “John showed me some pictures. Lovely-looking woman. He said they used to call her the Sable Beauty.”
“They did,” Oliver replied with rising impatience. “But where is she now?”
“With her husband,” Roger replied. “Back on the mainland. Did you know he went to prison for killing a man?”
The shock was like shrapnel to the gut. Oliver took a step back, almost staggering. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard the man correctly. Or maybe he was just floating in a fog of denial. “She’s where?”
“She went back to her husband, and they’re living somewhere in Halifax. John said he was released from prison. That must have been quite a scandal when he was arrested. Must have put a strain on their marriage, I would guess, but it sounds like they’re making it work.”
The news finally hit home, and Oliver felt as if he’d fallen out a high window and smashed into the ground. He took a few more steps backward, wondering if this was another real-life nightmare—like the explosion, his ship going down ...
Surely this time his heart wouldn’t be able to hold out.
“But you know what they say,” Roger continued, oblivious to Oliver’s distress. “Time heals all wounds. He’s out of jail now, and they looked like a happy family in the pictures I saw. But it makes sense, you know? With children in the mix. A boy needs his father. Forgive and forget, that’s what I always say.”
Oliver turned toward the ocean and listened to its obstinate thunder. He thought of the days in the lifeboat, when he’d cursed God, and the slow, excruciating deaths of the two men on the island—who were his friends—when they’d succumbed to infection.
Maybe he wasn’t so lucky after all, because Emma—the only dream that gave him a reason to keep breathing when he was starving to death—was lost to him.
The waves beyond the high dune continued to break onto the shore. It was a relentless reverberation, booming inside his chest, and he felt the same despair he’d felt when he’d given up all hope for a rescue or a way off that wretched island.
“Since you’re here,” Roger said, “would you like to come to the weather station for a tour? We’re working on some new experiments. I could make you a hot lunch at the house.”
“No ... thank you,” Oliver replied, walking backward. He was engulfed in grief and rage—aimed at God again. “I need to get going.”
He couldn’t be sociable. He was in a numb state of shock.
But as he started running toward the tender boat on the shore, his shock turned to defiance. This couldn’t be the end. If he rowed quickly back to the sailboat, he could harness the wind, return to Halifax, and find Emma. Tell her he loved her. Beg her to leave Logan. Oliver ran clumsily out of Main Station, fighting for traction in the deep sand, darting through winding horse trails toward the break in the high dune.
But when he emerged onto the beach, the reality of the situation and the consequences of his desires struck him like a stone and shattered him. He stopped dead.
He wanted Emma. Of course he did. But how many times had he broken her heart? God had chosen to spare him from death in the explosion, in the lifeboat, and on the island. For that he was grateful—he truly was—and maybe this was a sign. When he was praying for survival and rescue, Oliver had made countless untold promises. He’d begged forgiveness for his failures as a husband and a father. He’d pleaded for a chance to see his children again and hold them in his arms.
Was this the price for that reward? His children had been at his side in the hospital constantly since his return, and he’d been thanking God ever since. But to go after Emma was to break the promises he’d made to be a better father. Could he abandon his children again? Could he destroy a marriage reunited and steal another man’s son from him?
Emma had chosen to abide by her vows and rebuild her family. How could he disrupt another marriage? It would be selfish. Irresponsible. It wasn’t right.
Exhausted again and out of breath, Oliver sank onto the cool sand and sat there, staring at the horizon and struggling with his emotions. He still wanted Emma. He wanted her to know that he loved her. But he also wanted to raise his two children, to love and support them through life, and to one day know his grandchildren.
Oliver gazed up at the pale-gray sky. The clouds, thick and dense, rolled sluggishly eastward. For a long while, he watched their graceful movement and felt a gradual settling of his heart.
He was very tired. Tired of fighting for survival, for love, and for the wisdom to do the right thing. He’d been responsible for twelve men on that island off the coast of Africa. There were many deaths over the years, during and after the war, that he had to answer for.
Oliver collapsed wearily onto his back and lay for a long while in the warmth of that overcast August afternoon. Sleepily, he continued to watch the blanket of clouds travel across the sky. Or maybe it was the rotation of the earth he was witnessing.
Eventually, he reached into his jacket pocket and wrapped his hand around the ring he’d bought for Emma. He couldn’t bear to think about what might have happened if he’d made it back in time to propose and place it on her finger. What would their lives have looked like?
It was torture to imagine what could never be, so he sat up and stared at the ocean, wondering what to do next.
All he knew was that he had to leave Sable Island and say goodbye to it forever. Though it had wielded a profound power and effect on his soul and had changed him deeply, for the better, it was time to go home.
It was time to go home to his children.