Page 15 of All Our Beautiful Goodbyes
Chapter 14
Emma met Logan every morning for the next six weeks, sometimes in secret not far from abandoned Station Number Two. There was a deep hollow in the heath—cozy like a candy bowl surrounded by bayberry bushes. Each time Emma and Logan rode up to it, dismounted, and skidded down the steep slope to the bottom of the sandy basin, they felt the temperature rise a few degrees. The sun’s warmth in their private sanctuary felt luxurious on their skin after the chill of an early-morning ride on the breezy beach where fog lingered.
Regarding the regular nightly meetings in Emma’s great room after supper, always with her father present, Emma learned about thesis sentences, footnotes, and formal conclusions. She came to appreciate the importance of paragraph structure and how grammar and punctuation could affect clarity.
But it was not only Logan who taught her these things. Her father made many contributions as a first reader and editor. As an added benefit, the project gradually pulled him out of his doldrums, and he was finally back behind the wheel of the Jeep and making his way confidently along the concrete sidewalks at Main Station.
Most importantly, at the end of those six weeks, she and Logan were in possession of a thirty-two-page academic paper, written in longhand, waiting to be typed—and Emma was happy again. Her heart had become full of passion, and she no longer pined for Captain Harris. In fact, she barely thought of him. Or if she did, she was able to shrug it off and take pride in her accomplishments and the thrills and joys of new experiences.
Like kissing. How delicious it was ... to be kissed. Dizzyingly wonderful. Furthermore, it was addictive.
But somewhere on that addictive path, Emma had lost the discipline to resist what came next ... when the kissing wasn’t quite enough. And like the meandering horse trails through the heath on foggy mornings, the kissing had taken her to unexpected destinations.
In mid-August, Emma woke to the song of the Ipswich sparrows chirping outside her bedroom window. Normally, the sound of their music inspired her to rise from bed, don her riding clothes, and venture to the barn to present Willow with her morning apple. But on that day, Emma fought a flood of tears, rolled to her side, squeezed her pillow in her arms, and buried her face into it so snugly that she nearly smothered herself.
An hour later, distressed and desperate to talk to Logan, Emma rode Willow along North Beach, homebound. At long last, he appeared in the distance, galloping toward her. She let out a breath of relief and battled another outpouring of tears.
They reached each other, and Logan pulled his horse to a halt. “I’m happy to see you,” he said. “What happened last night? I was worried.”
At the last minute, Emma had called and left a message at the staff house to cancel their regular meeting.
“I’m sorry,” she explained, feeling fragile, “but I couldn’t see you. I needed some time to myself.”
Logan’s eyebrows pulled together with concern. “What’s wrong?”
She spoke confidentially. “We need to talk.”
“All right.”
They dismounted and led the horses toward the water.
“You’re so quiet,” Logan said. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. I just don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?” he asked. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”
Emma’s stomach pitched and rolled. She worried she might throw up. Swallowing heavily, she stopped and faced him. “I’m late.”
Logan shook his head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean my monthly hasn’t come,” she explained. “It should have started two weeks ago, and I don’t know what to do.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she couldn’t keep the tears at bay.
Logan immediately pulled her into his arms. He held her close and rubbed her back. “My God, Emma. Are you sure? Maybe you mixed up the dates.”
“I’m positive.” She buried her face in his shoulder. “I’ve been anxious for days, waiting for it to come, but it never does, and this morning I felt sick. I’m still feeling sick right now.”
“Shh,” he whispered, cupping the back of her head. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
She stepped back and wiped under her nose. “Is it? I’m supposed to leave for university soon. How can I tell my father that I’m pregnant?”
Logan took hold of her hand. “Let’s sit down.”
Together, they dropped to their knees on the sand and sat back on their heels.
“I don’t want you to worry,” he said. “We’re a team, you and me. I’ve never been as happy as I’ve been since I came here.”
“I’ve been happy too,” she replied, fighting more tears.
“I can’t imagine my life without you,” he continued. “And I understand that you’re anxious, but maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. You know how I feel about you. I’m not sure if I’ve said it, but I love you. So, if this is what holds us together, then I’m glad it’s happening.”
Emma looked at him through the blur of tear-drenched lashes. “What are you saying?”
He pulled her close and held her tight. “That I don’t want to lose you. Ever. As far as I’m concerned, this is fate, and it means we should get married.”
She sat back again and spoke shakily. “Really?”
“Yes,” he said with a smile.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Please, Emma ...” He cupped her chin in his hand and locked her in his gaze. “Marry me and make me the happiest man in the world.”
She began to laugh through her tears. “Oh, my gosh. Yes!”
Logan’s eyes lit up, and he kissed her quickly on the lips. “This is the best day of my life.”
Emma wiped fresh tears of joy from her cheeks. She laughed jubilantly and hugged him. Thank you, God. Thank you. Thank you! Relief surged vigorously into her heart. Everything was going to be all right now. It wouldn’t matter that she was expecting a baby out of wedlock. There would be no shame in it because she’d be married. She was engaged!
Wanting to savor this moment and the relief she felt, Emma lay down on the sand and invited Logan to lay next to her, where they held hands and gazed up at the sky. There were no clouds. Nothing but blue.
What will come next? she wondered.
Announcing the news to her father, who would, no doubt, be over the moon. His smile would split his face in half. She couldn’t wait to tell him.
A wedding. Sooner rather than later would be best.
Beyond that? The baby’s arrival, obviously ...
Emma’s brain became a waterspout of thoughts and plans. The dress. A nursery. Pink, blue, or yellow?
And what would happen after the next nine months? In the years beyond?
A white cloud sailed in from the west, and Emma watched it float slowly across the sky. Her pulse calmed, and the hot rushing of blood in her veins relaxed. The waves rolled onto shore, in a relaxed and steady rhythm.
It was then that Emma realized she had questions.
“What about me going to university?” she asked, turning her face toward Logan’s.
He looked at her and grimaced, and she wasn’t sure what she saw in his eyes. Was it sympathy?
“I’m sorry, Emma,” he said. “You’ll have to withdraw, because you’ll be a married woman. You can’t possibly look after a baby and get a degree at the same time.”
“But why not?” Emma asked, genuinely confused, because she’d never been held back by obstacles before. At least not in her own mind.
“But you’d be there to help,” she argued, in a last feeble appeal, unsettled by the sound of defeat in her voice, when they’d only just begun to discuss it.
Logan looked at her as if she’d sprouted horns. “But I’d be working. Besides that, we’d need to move to Halifax. I’d have to find a new job and an apartment for us.” He regarded her with a frown. “Emma ... you do understand that it’s not possible right now?”
She stared at him blankly. He was right. Of course he was. She was speaking nonsense.
But another side of her couldn’t bear to accept the permanent annihilation of her dream, the forfeit of her passion.
When Emma said nothing, Logan squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry. I know you were looking forward to all that, but believe me, college isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And I’m sure that after the baby comes, you won’t even think about sitting in a classroom because you’ll love being a wife and mother.”
She forced herself to have an open mind and listened respectfully to him, but for Emma, it wasn’t simply about sitting in a classroom. She wanted to be a psychologist. Even now, she was analyzing Logan’s mental and emotional responses to her disappointment. He was a man, and she was a woman. He had his own set of core values and social expectations. He had no idea what it felt like to have only one path to choose. And he wanted what he wanted, which was her love, forever, and this baby.
But she, too, had her own set of expectations, which stemmed from having been raised on a remote island with a sense of autonomy that was not common elsewhere. Logan, on the other hand, had grown up in the real world. A world she knew nothing about.
It took a moment for this new reality to sink in. Perhaps this was what it meant to be a woman. She reminded herself that most women who became mothers lost interest in a career. It wasn’t something they cared about—or so she’d been told. Was it true?
She supposed she wouldn’t know until she experienced it for herself.
Emma sat up, hugged her knees to her chest, and looked out at the ocean. At the very least, she would need to put off her education for another year. But she was young. She had time. And she’d certainly learned how to adapt to the postponement of a dream, even the death of one. She’d learned that she could recover and survive.
“You’re probably right,” she said to Logan, surrendering. At least for the time being.
She watched Willow nibble contentedly on some salty peat a short distance away and reminded herself to appreciate the good in this. Lately, she’d found happiness again after a terribly dark phase. And now, she wouldn’t have to leave all the things and people she loved. There would be no sad goodbyes. Nothing to dread in that way.
“When should we tell your father?” Logan asked, sitting up beside her.
“The sooner the better, I suppose. We could tell him today.” She shot a fast glance at Logan. “But don’t tell him I’m expecting. Only that we’re getting married. One thing at a time.”
Logan regarded her uncertainly. “He’ll be happy, I hope?”
“Oh, I know he’ll be happy,” she replied, linking her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder. “He never wanted me to go to university in the first place. He always wanted me to stay here and get married to one of the staff men. This is his dream come true.”
Logan nodded, and she sensed a renewed confidence in him. “Then I’ll say it again. It’s fate. We were meant to find each other, Emma. I’ll keep my job here and support us, till death do us part.”
Emma tensed slightly. She had no doubts about speaking those vows, but if there was one thing she’d learned on Sable Island, it was that nothing ever stayed the same.
“You won’t want to return to Saskatchewan one day and apply to teach somewhere?” she asked. The possibility filled her with hope. If they lived in a university town, she could perhaps apply to a different psychology program. Part time, of course. Eventually.
“Not anytime soon,” Logan replied. “I signed a one-year contract for this job, and with a baby on the way, I think we should hang on to that paycheck. Then we’ll see how things look at the end of it.”
Emma agreed and believed her father would support that plan as well. It was sensible.
She felt another welcome wave of relief as her private fears from the past few days dissipated. Logan loved her, and they were going to raise this baby together as man and wife. The rest of it they’d figure out as they went along.
With a newfound rush of happiness, Emma tackled Logan on the sand and planted a dozen kisses on his cheeks while he laughed, and the waves rolled onto the shore, and the horses nickered nearby.
Emma and Logan were married a month later, on Boat Day, when a Protestant minister came ashore for the afternoon to perform the ceremony. All residents of Sable Island crowded into the superintendent’s great room to watch Emma walk down the stairs. She wore her mother’s white silk chiffon wedding dress, which her father had kept in his wardrobe for many years. Only a few alterations were required to fix the lace on the asymmetrical hem, and she carried a bouquet of pink Sable Island roses she’d collected that morning.
As for the rings, her father provided that for Emma as well. On the day she and Logan revealed their intention to marry, he’d presented them with the diamond engagement ring and wedding band her mother had worn until the day she was laid in the ground. Logan’s wedding ring came on the supply ship with the minister, just in time for the ceremony.
Shortly after they said “I do,” Philip McKenna helped them pose for a formal wedding portrait on the stairs.
That evening, after the supply ship departed, Emma said good night to her father, who took the Jeep to the McKennas’ for dinner and to sleep in Abigail’s sickroom, which would give Emma and Logan privacy on their wedding night. Emma had cooked a roast-chicken dinner for her new husband. After dark, as a thick, briny fog enveloped the island, they drank bubbly wine, wound up the gramophone, and waltzed to “Louise” in the great room. Then they went to bed with hearts and bodies filled with desire.
Shortly after midnight, they were interrupted by a noisy ruckus in the yard. Emma slipped out of bed, pulled on her white silk robe—specially ordered for her wedding night—went to the window, and pulled the curtain aside.
Outside, the lifesaving crew was gathered, each man wearing his Sunday best. Frank was among them.
“What are you all doing down there?” Emma shouted with amusement as she opened the window, leaned out, and rested her elbows on the sill.
Joseph strummed his guitar. “We’ve come to serenade the newlyweds! Ready, boys? Five, six, seven, eight ...”
The men launched into a harmonized version of “The Way You Look Tonight,” one of Emma’s favorite tunes. Her eyes found Frank’s, because he knew this about her. He gave her a friendly, affectionate salute.
Logan joined her at the window. By the end of the song, she was weeping with laughter and joy, blowing kisses at the men as they waved goodbye and departed, slowly disappearing into the fog.
After she closed and latched the window, she and Logan returned to her warm bed, snuggled together under the covers, and felt amorous again—for the third time that night.