Chapter 36
Chapter 36
Joanna couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the mattress. The springs were digging into her hips. How old was this thing? For all she knew, it could have been the very bed her grandfather slept on in Abigail McKenna’s sickroom in 1946.
But Joanna wouldn’t dare complain. Here she was, spending an extra day on the island of her grandfather’s most profound spiritual experience, or at least she liked to think of it that way. He might have other ideas, having survived a war and two shipwrecks.
She finally gave up tossing and turning, rose from the uncomfortable bed, pulled on her jeans and sweatshirt, and ventured downstairs.
The house was dark, and she shivered a little before she switched on a lamp by the sofa near the brick fireplace. Golden light enveloped the room and reflected off raindrops on the windowpane.
She glanced around and wondered what to do with herself at two o’clock in the morning. If only she’d brought a book to read. Then her attention fell on a deck of cards on the fireplace mantel, so she decided that a game of solitaire would be the perfect diversion on a stormy night on a remote island. All she needed was a cup of tea to help her relax. Perhaps they had some in the kitchen.
She moved to the sink, switched on another light, and riffled through a few cupboards, careful not to slam doors and wake others in the house. She found a box of Red Rose tea. It was not a brand familiar to her, but when in Rome ...
Joanna spotted an electric kettle, filled it with water, and plugged it in. She had just leaned back against the counter to wait when a gust of wind shook the house and the back door was ripped open. With a fright, Joanna pushed away from the counter and looked hard at the unexpected visitor.
It was Garrett, and she relaxed.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, lowering the hood of his yellow rain slicker. “I saw the light on.”
“It’s fine,” she replied. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake anyone, but I couldn’t sleep.”
“Neither could I.” He closed the inner door behind him. “This is the worst storm we’ve had in a while, and I didn’t see it coming. We don’t usually have guests, so I’m a bit on edge.”
“We’re all fine,” she assured him. “I’d much rather be here than up there, in the sky, getting struck by lightning.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He unzipped his raincoat. “It’s never fun when the coast guard gets involved. Do you mind if I hang out here for a bit?”
“Fill your boots,” she replied. “I was just making some tea. Fancy a cuppa?”
“I shouldn’t. It would probably keep me up.”
“But you’re already up,” she replied with a grin.
He chuckled as he hung his coat on a hook. “You have me there.”
“I was just about to play solitaire,” she mentioned, gesturing toward the table. “But now that you’re here ...”
He strolled into the kitchen. “Poker? Crazy Eights? Gin rummy?”
Joanna laughed. “I was going to say we could talk. I’d love to pick your brain about Sable Island.”
“Go for it,” he replied, sounding invigorated. “I love talking about it. And not to toot my own horn, but I know everything.”
She laughed again. “Then I’ve come to the right place.”
The kettle boiled, and Joanna filled a Royal Albert teapot. “This is a beauty. Definitely vintage. I recognize the pattern. It’s called Old Country Roses. I wonder how long it’s been here.”
“Who knows,” he replied. “So much of what’s here has been kept and reused for decades, maybe even a century.”
She leaned on the counter again, waiting for the tea to steep. “I’ve actually done a lot of research on Sable, and I know about the Humane Establishment.”
Garrett inclined his head. “Really? Most people who come here just want to take pictures of the horses.”
She didn’t want to betray her grandfather’s confidence, but she had so many questions about the island and the woman he’d loved all those years ago.
“I shouldn’t tell you this,” she said, “and if I do, I’m going to need your blood oath. You have to promise you’ll keep it private, between us.”
“Sounds intriguing. But what exactly do you mean by blood oath ?” He slanted a look at her.
Playfully, she waved off his concerns. “It won’t hurt, I promise. But if you know ‘everything’ about Sable Island, you probably already know who my grandfather is.”
Garrett sat forward. “He has a history here?”
“Yes. He was shipwrecked in 1946.”
Garrett’s eyebrows lifted. “The Belvedere ? The one where the captain refused to abandon his ship?”
Joanna slapped her hand against her cheek. “Oh, my word. You do know of it.”
“Of course I do. It was the last wreck before the end of the lifesaving station.”
His knowledge on the subject sent Joanna’s heart leaping, which made her forget about the tea steeping on the counter. Quickly, she moved to sit on the edge of the sofa, closer to Garrett. “That was Grandad. He was the captain.”
Garrett sat back in astonishment. “No kidding. Did he tell you much about it?”
“Yes, but only recently,” she replied, “which is what made me want to come here and see this place for myself.”
Garrett scratched behind his ear. “I haven’t told many people about this, but I’ve been working on a book about Sable Island storms over the centuries. I’d love to interview him, if he’d be willing.”
Joanna considered it. “He’s a bit shy about sharing. He didn’t want anyone on the tour to know who he was because it’s not easy for him to talk about it. But you could certainly ask him.”
Garrett regarded her intently for a moment. “This morning, you asked Bill about the rose garden and the old main station, and the house buried in sand. Do those places mean something to your grandfather?”
“Yes, but sadly, we couldn’t see any of that today.”
“But now you’re here for two days,” Garrett reminded her, “thanks to the weather.” He paused, thinking. “I could talk to Denise and Darren about delaying the departure tomorrow and giving me some time in the morning to drive you and your grandfather wherever you want to go.”
Joanna let out a breath. “Oh, my gosh. That would be amazing. He’s been trying to act nonchalant about it, but I know he was disappointed not to see more of the island.” Suddenly, she remembered her tea steeping in the pot, and stood up. She went to the kitchen, poured herself a cup, and added a splash of milk.
When she returned to the sofa, Garrett sat forward, elbows on knees. “Can I ask the significance of the rose garden?”
Joanna sipped her tea. “Hmm. I don’t feel right sharing his story. Maybe you could ask him tomorrow.”
“Sure. I don’t mean to pry.”
“Not at all. I’m grateful you’re willing to drive us around.” Joanna ran the pad of her finger around the gold rim of her teacup. “But maybe I could just ask you this one question, without betraying his confidence.” She lifted her gaze and spoke with purpose. “Do you know anything about Emma Clarkson? She was the daughter of the last superintendent, John Clarkson.”
“Yes,” Garrett replied. “She was raised here, and she studied the horses. She coauthored an academic paper about them.”
“That’s right.” Joanna’s heart did a little dance. “Grandad told me about that, and that she wrote it with the man who became her husband.”
Garrett nodded. “The original document is at the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic.”
“You’re joking.” Her shoulders slumped. “We went there yesterday, but we didn’t see that.”
“It’s in the archives. You’d have to make an appointment.”
Joanna sighed and sat back. “We’ll definitely do that when we return to Halifax.” She couldn’t help herself. There was another question she was burning to ask. “Do you happen to know what became of Ms. Clarkson after she left Sable for good? Or if she’s still alive today?”
Garrett grimaced. “I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that, which I guess makes me a liar, because I told you I knew everything.”
Joanna laughed softly. “I’ll forgive you, just this once.”
As the wind and rain thrashed against the windows and the storm raged over the ocean beyond the dunes, Joanna felt surprisingly safe and sheltered in the cozy common room of the big house at Main Station.
Or perhaps it had more to do with the company. She was intensely aware of Garrett regarding her in the hazy lamplight, and she didn’t shy away from staring back at him. She allowed her gaze to roam over his face, down to his neck and shoulders, his strong, masculine hands. How casual and relaxed he looked, sitting back on the sofa in his loose, faded blue jeans and gray cotton sweatshirt.
They were half smiling at each other, and Joanna felt an unspoken communication in it, the open acknowledgment of a mutual attraction.
Garrett’s half smile broadened. Seeming almost amused, he checked his watch. “On that note ...”
What note, exactly? Joanna wondered with a little thrill of pleasure.
“It’s almost two thirty,” he said. “I should get some sleep if we’re going to squeeze in an early tour. How about I meet you here at nine? Be sure to eat a hearty breakfast because we probably won’t be back until noon.” He stood up to leave.
Joanna stood also. “Thanks so much, Garrett. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he replied, speaking in a captivating way that filled her with excitement.
In that moment, he looked familiar to her, as if she’d known him previously and they’d been close friends for years.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
“Sure thing.” She watched him walk to the door and don his raincoat. He gave her a wave before he went outside to brave the storm, leaving her standing there in high spirits, keyed up with anticipation for the morning.
At 9:00 a.m., the fog was thick as milk. Garrett arrived and escorted Joanna and her grandfather to the Jeep, which was parked next to the carpentry shop. Joanna offered the front seat to her grandad, but he insisted on riding in the back, which gave Joanna a chance, during the drive along the beach, to talk with Garrett about his work.
He told her that the weather station, because of its remote location in the ocean, was a unique and vital component of the national and global weather networks, and he and his crew represented the only year-round presence on the island.
While they talked, her grandfather said nothing from the back seat. He merely gazed out the window at the mist that shrouded everything and made the driving precarious. Garrett had to take it slow.
Eventually, they approached the west end, and Garrett touched his foot to the brake. “This is as close as we’re going to get. We’ll have to walk from here.” He shifted into park, shut off the engine, and turned in the seat to glance over his shoulder. “Ready, Oliver?”
“Yep. Let’s crack on.”
As soon as they got out of the Jeep and started walking three abreast, Oliver turned to Garrett. “Joanna told me about a book you’re working on.”
“Yes,” Garrett replied. “It’s about storms of Sable Island, and there’s a section about how they’ve affected the ships that have run aground here. I’d love to ask you some questions, if you’re willing.”
Joanna listened while they discussed the wreck of the Belvedere and her grandfather’s memories of the rescue. They moved through a break in the high dune and reached the hush of the interior. Joanna zipped her jacket tight around her neck to ward off a damp chill as they crossed the fog-shrouded heath.
About ten minutes later, Garrett stopped and looked around. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to tell where we are in this fog. I think it’s this way.”
He started down another sandy path, but Oliver hesitated. “No, it’s got to be that way.”
Garrett turned back.
“It feels like we’re standing inside a cloud,” Joanna said.
Aside from the steady roar of the ocean all around them, there was no frame of reference, until the sound of thumping hooves and a few snorts and nickers caused them all to turn in the same direction.
Four horses materialized out of the mist—a bay mare, a young buckskin, a shaggy colt, and an enormous black stallion bringing up the rear.
Garrett spread his arms wide and swept Joanna and Oliver behind him. “Watch out, guys. Back up. Let’s clear the path.”
They stumbled into a patch of low-lying bayberry bushes to give the horses the right of way, but the band drew to a halt. The mare tossed her head and walked toward them, forcing them to continue backing up.
“I think she wants to say hello,” Joanna said, because she was no stranger to horses. She had a good sense of their moods and behaviors.
“Just remember not to touch them,” Garrett reminded her.
The young male approached, and Joanna put her hands behind her back. He sniffed her chest, then nuzzled her arm and shoulder and sniffed her ear. His hot breath tickled her neck, and she couldn’t help but softly laugh. “Hello, there. It’s nice to meet you.”
The colt approached and did the same to her other ear, while the stallion seemed unconcerned. He bent his long neck to feed on some beach pea.
“This is something else,” Garrett said. “I’ve never seen this happen before.”
“She’s always had a way with horses,” her grandfather said. “Must be her kind heart. They recognize it.”
The young male nuzzled her cheek, and she scrunched up her face, smiling as she squeezed her eyes shut. “You flirt. We hardly know each other.”
Then she opened her eyes and looked deeply into his. They each stood calmly, staring at each other on the misty heath.
Joanna found herself awash in a sense of inner calm and a feeling of connection to the earth beneath her feet, the air coursing into her lungs, the blood rushing through her veins, and the continuous pulsing of all her organs. She wanted so badly to touch this particular horse, to stroke his face and neck, to speak soft tones, whisper in his ear. But that would be breaking a law, so she resisted.
The mare nickered and started walking again. The young male hesitated before he finally turned and followed. Within seconds, they all vanished like phantoms into the fog, but Joanna could still hear the soft thumping of their hooves on the sand.
“Blimey,” she said, her heart racing. “That was closer than twenty meters.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Garrett said, staring at her with fascination. She sensed that his heart was beating fast as well. “That was amazing.”
“It sure was. I’m never going to forget it. Not as long as I live.”
“Me neither.”
They were smiling at each other, and in that moment, Joanna wasn’t sure if she was still spellbound by her encounter with the horse or the man before her now. Both, she supposed. It was all part of the same experience, the same special magic.
“Let’s follow them,” her grandfather suggested, and she had to shake herself back to reality.
Garrett turned to him. “What makes you think they’re heading to the rose garden?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “But their way is as good as any.”
Garrett locked eyes with Joanna, and they shared a look of agreement.
“Works for me,” he said.
“Me too,” she replied, and felt her attraction to him growing.
They started walking on the same path the horses had chosen, and walked for about five minutes before they came upon a small concrete slab.
“This is it,” Garrett said.
Joanna turned to her grandfather, who strode forward with purpose. She followed him a short distance into a vast circular space within a ring of tall tangled rosebushes—alive, but not by any means thriving.
“Yes. This is the place,” he said, entranced as he moved toward the concrete bench, where he slowly sat down. He looked around and let his gaze wander.
Joanna—wanting to give him some time alone to reminisce—stood with Garrett outside the garden entrance. Overhead, the sun began to gently penetrate the fog, and Joanna felt its warmth on her face. She closed her eyes and tipped her face upward for a few seconds. When she opened them, she was caught up again in Garrett’s steady gaze.
“The sun should burn this fog away by noon,” he told her.
“I suppose that’s good news,” she replied, “that the weather won’t keep us here another day.”
“I wouldn’t mind if it did.” Garrett gave her a look.
Joanna allowed the corners of her mouth to curl up in a grin, which was an unambiguous flirtation. “I wouldn’t mind if it did either.”
Suddenly, her grandfather burst out of the rose garden, his expression drawn with tension. He spoke in a clipped tone. “I need to see the old superintendent’s residence.”
He strode past them as if he were late for an appointment, without waiting for them to respond.
“Wait, Grandad!” Joanna called after him. “What are you on about?”
Garrett hurried to follow. “That house is off limits to visitors!” he shouted. “It’s not safe to go inside, but we can certainly take a look from afar!”
Oliver marched on while she and Garrett scrambled to keep up.
“Hold on, Oliver!” Garrett shouted. “You can’t go in there! The structure’s not sound!”
Joanna halted as she watched her grandfather climb a steep dune toward a rooftop, where three gabled dormer windows poked out of the sand. The shingles were severely weathered and rotting, and the rest of the house was buried in the drift.
“I just need to have a look!” Oliver shouted over his shoulder as he climbed through a window where the glass was blown out.
Fighting panic, Joanna scrambled up the side of the dune. “Grandad! Don’t do that!”
“Oliver, stop!” Garrett reached the window ahead of her and peered inside. “Captain Harris!”
Joanna arrived, out of breath, and grabbed hold of Garrett’s arm to keep her balance. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He’s not answering.” Garrett swung one leg over the windowsill and stepped into what appeared to be a second-story bedroom, where a rusty bed frame remained. He took a penlight out of his jacket pocket and switched it on.
“Stay here, and don’t follow me,” he said. Then he reached into his other pocket for his keys and handed them to her. “If anything happens—like if the roof collapses—run as fast as you can to the Jeep and get help.”
“Are you serious?” she asked, horrified.
“Yes.” He moved carefully across the bedroom to an open doorway and shone his light into the hall.
“What do you see?” Joanna asked, leaning in.
“It’s dark, but the stairs are clear.” Garrett disappeared beyond the door. “Oliver, where are you?”
She heard her grandfather reply. “Down here!”
“I’m coming down the stairs,” Garrett told him.
“Please be careful!” Joanna called out as she bent over the windowsill and felt the chill of the interior on her face. It was like a winter cave in there.
She waited anxiously for another update but heard only the muffled sounds of Garrett speaking to her grandfather from somewhere inside the subterranean floor. Then she heard a few hard whacks like a hammer.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re looking for something in the kitchen!” Garrett shouted.
A sudden gust of wind blew grains of sand across Joanna’s back, and the house creaked and groaned like an old ship. She quickly drew out of the window and sat back on her heels. Her heart pounded like a bass drum in her chest as she imagined the walls caving in under the weight of all that sand and burying her grandfather and Garrett alive.
“Please hurry up!” she shouted, then waited and listened.
At long last, footsteps tapped up the stairs and her grandfather reentered the bedroom, where the daylight reached him.
“Thank God,” she said. “Please come out of there, you numpty!”
She assisted him as he climbed out.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled.
“No, you’re not. Are you daft? You both could have died!”
Garrett climbed out behind him and flicked sand off his trousers.
“What the devil were you looking for?” Joanna demanded to know.
Oliver held up a small cardboard box. She took it from him, opened it, and found a second, blue velvet box inside. When she opened that one, she nearly fell over onto her backside.
“Sweet Mary, Mother of God.” Dazzled by a diamond ring that held more sparkle than the universe, Joanna blinked a few times. Her eyes lifted. “You left this here? What were you thinking?”
“I came here to propose, but when I found out she went back to her husband, I didn’t want to bring this home with me. I just wanted to forget about everything. Bury it once and for all. So I put it in a cupboard, thinking this was where it belonged.” He waved an arm toward the West Spit. “Just like my ship out there, buried somewhere in the deep.”
“They do call this the Graveyard of the Atlantic,” Garrett mentioned.
Joanna touched her grandfather’s shoulder. “Oh, Grandad. You were grief stricken.”
They all stood for a moment in silence, staring down at their feet. Then Oliver asked for the ring back. Joanna gave it to him, and he started skidding down the side of the dune, toward the beach.
“Come on, you lot!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Let’s go. We don’t want to get stuck here another night!”
Garrett raked his fingers through his hair. “I have no idea what just happened, but he’s right. We should get back before the others start cursing us.”
He and Joanna jogged to reach a wide sandy path across the heath.
“He was very much in love with Emma Clarkson,” she explained to him, “who was separated from her husband at the time. He came back here to propose in ’55 but found out that she went back to her husband, so he left. I don’t think he ever truly got over her, which is why we’re here. He recently became widowed and ...” She stopped.
“You thought you might be able to find her?”
“Yes, but maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic.”
“There are worse things you can be,” he replied, and they walked in silence for a while.
“Do you ever go to the mainland?” Joanna asked, not looking forward to saying goodbye to him when they’d only just begun to get to know each other. It wasn’t likely she’d ever return to Sable Island. “You must get some vacation time?”
“I do,” he replied, “but my Sable Island contract ends next month. Then I’ll go back to my old job.”
“And what was that?”
“I was a weatherman for a local news station.”
Joanna laughed. “Are you having me on? A proper celebrity you must’ve been. What made you decide to leave all that behind and come here?”
Garrett slid his hands into his pockets. “I’d like to say it was a thirst for adventure, but the truth is my girlfriend dumped me and I was feeling sorry for myself—sitting around doing not much of anything. Then I stumbled across this job posting, which seemed like a good way to avoid bumping into her with her new boyfriend, who just happened to be my boss.”
“Oh, blimey . . .”
“Exactly,” Garrett replied.
“Any regrets?” Joanna asked. “Because you couldn’t have known what you were in for when you took this job.”
“I knew nothing,” he replied. “But it’s been good for me, and now I can barely remember what my girlfriend looks like.” He gazed all around and exhaled. “It’s incredible here, you have to admit. It kind of wakes you up, you know what I mean? Or maybe that sounds crazy.”
“Not crazy at all. I know exactly what you mean. It woke my grandfather up too, all those years ago, and changed his life, even though he didn’t end up married to Emma.” Still trudging along, Joanna watched her grandad ahead of them as he reached the break in the high dune. “But whether it was Emma and her effect on him,” Joanna continued, “or something special about this place that changed him, I’ll never know.”
“It was probably a bit of both.” Garrett led her off the heath, where they had to wade through some marram grass. “I’m certainly going to miss this place when I go. I’ve been trying to prepare myself mentally for rush hour traffic and crowds in malls. Obnoxious drivers laying on their horns. I might lose my mind.”
“It’ll be a culture shock, for sure.”
They emerged onto the open beach, where seagulls soared and screeched over the booming ocean. Joanna spotted her grandfather standing in the distance, at the water’s edge, staring at the horizon.
Garrett slowed his pace. “You know, I was thinking about what you asked me last night—the question I couldn’t answer, about whether Emma was still alive or not. Now that I see how determined your grandfather was to find that ring, I’d like to make a few phone calls and see if we can track her down.”
Feeling elated, Joanna nearly stumbled over a pile of peat. “Really? That would be so helpful. Thank you. Although ... Emma might still be married.”
“It’s possible,” Garrett replied. “Or she might be living in Australia, working on her fourth husband.”
Joanna laughed, and it felt amazingly good to make light of things.
When they reached the Jeep, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out to her grandfather. He turned and walked toward them, and she wondered how he was going to feel about a focused and dedicated search for Emma Clarkson.
As they climbed into the vehicle, she decided not to bring it up just yet—in case he resisted the idea and set up roadblocks. Or more importantly, in case there was nothing left to hope for and he only ended up disappointed again.
When the time came to board the helicopter and return to the mainland, Joanna stood on the landing pad and held her hand out to Garrett. “Thank you so much for everything. You really went above and beyond for us.”
The sun had come out, and the sky overhead was the color of blue topaz, but shadows were drifting across Joanna’s heart. She didn’t want to say goodbye.
“It was my pleasure,” he replied as he shook her hand. “I wish you could stay a few more days.”
“Me too.”
Their handshake lasted longer than it should have, and Joanna had trouble tearing her eyes away from his. Eventually, she forced herself to step back and looked down at the ground.
Garrett gave Oliver a casual salute. “Captain Harris. I hope we can speak again soon.”
“You have my number,” her grandfather replied. “Just remember we’re in a different time zone across the pond, and I’m usually early to bed.”
“I’ll remember,” Garrett replied.
Darren called for the passengers to board, so Garrett backed up to the edge of the landing pad and waited until everyone was buckled into their seats with their headsets on. Then he descended the steps and moved along the sandy path toward the beach, where his Jeep was parked.
The chopper’s engine rumbled, and the rotor blades began to spin. Joanna looked out the window at the island vegetation whipping in the high winds. The blades spun faster and faster, and soon they rose vertically and hovered for a few seconds over the landing pad before transitioning to forward flight.
Garrett stood on top of the dune, shading his eyes from the sun to look up at them as they flew over. His wavy hair blew in all directions, and as the chopper tilted and banked left to head west over the crescent island, he waved his arm in a wide arc to say goodbye.
Joanna kept her eyes on him until she couldn’t see him anymore. Her heart throbbed uncomfortably, and she was surprised by how crestfallen she felt. She wished they could have stayed longer, for a few more days, exploring. Or not exploring. Just being there. She would have liked to spend more time with Garrett.
Sitting forward and feeling the engine’s vibration beneath the soles of her feet, she watched the waves roll over the underwater sandbars that stretched for miles beyond the tip of the island. Though they were plainly visible from the sky, it was easy to see how a ship could run aground on those dangerous hidden shoals.
As the island grew distant, she craned her neck to look back until it was gone completely from view and there was nothing to see but ocean below and sky above. For a while, she watched the sun’s reflection on the vast expanse of open water. Then she tipped her head to the side to rest against the cabin wall, closed her eyes, and found herself drifting back to that extraordinary moment in the mist when the horses appeared.
Joanna and Oliver returned to their hotel on the Halifax waterfront. As soon as she entered her room, she dropped her backpack on the bed and immediately rang the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic. After requesting an appointment to view Emma’s academic paper about the horses of Sable Island, she kept the curator on the phone and asked if he knew anything about the author.
Was she still alive? Did she live in Nova Scotia?
Like Garrett, he couldn’t answer the question, but he promised to look into the matter.
That night, Joanna made reservations for dinner at The Press Gang, a Halifax restaurant that seemed like a place her grandfather might enjoy. It was known for its historic seafaring atmosphere, its exquisite meat and seafood dishes, a well-stocked oyster bar, and an impressive selection of fine wines and single malt whiskeys.
“Excellent choice,” he said as they sat down at a cozy candlelit table beneath a tattered antique British flag behind a glass frame.
They picked up their menus and marveled at the story of the old stones in the walls of the restaurant, which had come from the French Fortress of Louisbourg on the island of Cape Breton. The fort had been dismantled by the British after a siege in 1758, which took place during the Seven Years’ War.
Mystified, Joanna ran her fingertips down the gray stones next to their table. Her grandfather did the same. Then they turned their attention to the extensive wine list and selection of entrées on the menu.
“I didn’t expect it,” she said, “but this trip has turned me into a bit of a history buff.”
“It’s never too late to embrace a new interest,” he replied, then showed her a fine French Bordeaux, which he suggested would pair well with their menu selections of seared duck breast and beef tenderloin.
“On the subject of new interests,” Joanna said, setting the menu aside and still feeling a little displaced since their departure from Sable, “I made an appointment for tomorrow morning to read Emma’s academic paper about the island horses.”
“That’s not a new interest,” he said. “You’re an equine veterinarian. You must have read dozens of papers about horses.”
Clearly, he was avoiding the concept of touching pages containing Emma’s very own handwritten notes.
“Yes, but this is different, and you know it,” Joanna replied. “Emma was someone you cared about. Besides that, I can’t stop thinking about that family of horses this morning. They were so friendly. So curious.”
He sat back and let out a sigh. “I’ve been thinking about that too. All of it. It was like a trip back in time. It made it feel like everything happened only yesterday.” He looked away, seeming lost in thought. “Life goes by so quickly, Joanna. In the blink of an eye.”
She observed and understood his melancholy. He wasn’t a young man anymore, but as a result, he was immensely wise. Joanna had learned much from him, and she didn’t want to squander a single day by sitting around her flat, watching the telly. She wanted to see new places, try new things, and have experiences that brought her joy—experiences that touched her soul.
She hadn’t even known that was possible before her visit to Sable Island, but the world looked new and different to her now. It was filled with a natural beauty that left her enthralled, and she was inspired and uplifted by thoughts of what her future might hold.
After dinner, Joanna and her grandfather returned to the hotel, said good night in the hall, and retreated to their separate rooms. Exhausted from the events of the past two days, and sleepy from the Madeira port they’d ordered with dessert, Joanna switched on the light, tossed her room key onto the TV cabinet, and laid her purse on the bed. She rolled her neck, massaged her left shoulder, and couldn’t wait to snuggle into the thick duvet and comfortable feather pillows.
She was about to kick off her shoes when she noticed the little red light blinking on the bedside-table telephone. With a spark of curiosity, she moved to pick up the receiver and pressed a few buttons to access the message. It was from Garrett.
Her heart fluttered at the sound of his voice, because he’d been in and out of her thoughts since she’d boarded the helicopter and left Sable Island. Collapsing onto the bed, she listened.
“Hi, Joanna. It’s Garrett. I hope you had a good trip back. The island feels a bit empty since you left.” He paused for a few seconds, and Joanna thought that might be the end of the message, until he began again. “Yeah, so ... there’s that. I’m not getting much work done around here. I’m kind of playing hooky. But what are they going to do, fire me?” He paused again and cleared his throat. “Anyway ... I wanted to let you know that I made some phone calls and found out that Emma Clarkson is alive and well and living in Chester. It’s a little seaside village on the South Shore of Nova Scotia, about a forty-five-minute drive from Halifax, if you want to pay her a visit.”
Joanna sat straight up on the bed.
“I also learned that she’s been a psychologist in Halifax for about forty years, and she’s somewhat renowned. She’s traveled all over the world giving lectures about PTSD and survivor guilt, and she’s considered one of the foremost experts in that area. She was a tenured professor at Dalhousie University—she went by Dr. Baxter—but she’s retired now.” He paused again. “I hope you won’t think I overstepped ... but I asked if she was married. The person I spoke to is a friend of mine who met her at a conference about Sable Island a few years ago, so I felt comfortable asking. Anyway, he said he was pretty sure she didn’t have a significant other at the time, but I can’t be sure. Who knows what’s happened in her life in the past four decades, or past four hours?” Garrett paused. “So, yeah ... that’s all I wanted to tell you, except that I enjoyed meeting you and your grandfather. I’d love to see you both again and catch up on whatever happens next. I hope you’ll keep me informed.” Another pause. “Now I’m rambling. I should hang up. Take care, and call me back if you want to. I’ll be at this number for another month.” He left his details and ended the message.
Joanna set the phone down in the cradle and smiled. Her cheeks grew hot, and her insides started to feel like sweet, sticky honey. She flopped onto the bed and stretched her arms out wide.
“I will definitely be calling you back,” she said aloud. “But first, I need to call Grandad.”
She sat up, picked up the phone, and dialed his room number.