‘She said she’d love me always.’ Ethan turned to her with swimming eyes. ‘Em, how can I live now?’
He fell into her arms, sobbing, and she held him tight. In all the months and weeks of Orla’s illness, Ethan had never shed a tear in front of them. Always staying upbeat, joking with the nurses to make Orla laugh, never speaking about the end. Orla had confided in Emer, she’d felt it a strain sometimes. She wanted to talk to him about her death.
In Emer’s sleep every night since her sister’s funeral, Lars came to her, but so did Orla. She was still alive and Emer had to find a way to save her. She was running the hospital corridors searching for the right cure, hounding specialists. Hope blazed through her dream as she raced to beat cancer for her sister’s sake.
Emer woke shivering, with the sensation of her phone vibrating on her lap. She had no idea where she was, only that she was freezing and sitting on a chair. What she did know was that her sister was dead and she’d only dreamt she was still alive. Despair washed over her. Where was she? She looked down at the flashing screen on the phone. It was Lars calling her. It hurt too much to talk to him. She’d sent him a text message telling him it was over just before she’d left Boston. How could it ever be right between them after what happened?
Her eyes adjusted to the light. She realised she was of course in Susannah’s bedroom in the house on the island. She sat bolt upright, looked over at the bed and could see the hump of a body under the covers. In a panic, she rushed over. How could she have let herself nod off? Light leached in from under the curtains. It was clearly morning again. She must have been asleep for hours. What was wrong with her? She’d never been so lax when she worked on shift in the hospital.
She felt Susannah’s forehead, but to her relief it was a normal temperature, and she was breathing steadily. Even so, Emer wasn’t taking any chances. Going downstairs, she rang the number of the medical centre in Vinalhaven which Lynsey had given her, asking if one of them could come out and take a look.
‘Sure,’ said the friendly voice on the end of the line, ‘but we’re physician assistants. You’re as qualified as us. If you think it’s serious, we can get her on a plane to the mainland.’
‘No, it’s grand,’ Emer said, just imagining how mad Susannah would be if taken off her beloved island.
She made herself a cup of coffee and headed back upstairs to check in on Susannah. She was still sound asleep. She took her temperature again and left a fresh glass of water by the bed before slipping out of her room.
Her own bedroom was up another flight of stairs right at the top of the house. She hadn’t even unpacked. The innards of her case were spilled upon the floor, but she didn’t have the energy to pick anything up or put them away in the drawers of the dressing table. There were two single beds in the room. Old-fashioned iron frames, with very hard mattresses. Both were covered in beautiful patchwork quilts just like on Susannah’s bed. One was made up of lots of patterns of red and white with heart shapes, and evergreen trimming. It made Emer think of Christmas. The second quilt was mostly in different shades of pink, with some lemony yellow flower prints to contrast. Emer had chosen the bed with the Christmas quilt. Never went for pastel shades. Nor did Orla. Her sister had always worn jewel colours – emerald green, sapphire blue, ruby red – to bring out her pale skin, red hair and blue eyes.
Emer’s room was long and narrow, but her bed faced two windows set into the eaves of the house. The view from one looked down onto the boughs of the apple tree. If she leaned out her window, she could count all its red apples. She thought it must be a very old apple tree to be so big, and indeed she could see its age in the twistings of its gnarled trunk. If she lay down on her bed, the other window gave her a vista of the island, the rooftops of other houses, tips of trees, and beyond that a distant sliver of bright blue sea. She had made her escape now from real life and yet she felt entrapped already on this small island.
Emer closed her eyes, took a breath. What was it Orla always said?
Everything passes, even the darkest night.
Her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, and without even having to look at it, she knew who it was. She took a breath and answered it.
‘Emer! Where are you? I’ve been so worried.’
His words came out in a panicked jumble and she instantly felt guilty. It wasn’t his fault, and yet she felt their fledgling relationship had been irredeemably damaged by the fact her sister had died the night they first made love.
‘I’m sorry, Lars.’
She saw him again in her memory. The last time they’d spoken. He’d been in his blue scrubs, and she’d been walking away from him after giving in her notice at the hospital. She’d already had her interview with Lynsey and everything had been set up for her journey to Vinalhaven. But Lars hadn’t known that.
He’d followed her down the corridor and touched her arm. Forced her to turn around.
‘How can I help?’ he’d asked, quite simply. She hadn’t been able to bear to look at the compassion in his eyes. He felt sorry for her. But she didn’t deserve it.
She had shaken her head, tight-lipped, terrified she might break down and sob in the middle of the hospital lobby. A place lots of people cried, thick with suffering and loss, but she couldn’t let her professional
