Later, still feeling as if she was in the past, Emer went downstairs to give Susannah a final viewing of the dress. The letters had been so moving. Reading about Susannah’s life and loves had touched her deeply. And in those letters, she could sense what had been going on in Kate’s life. But she was still none the wiser as to what had happened on the fateful day of Kate’s death.
Susannah seemed even more delighted to see Emer in her sister’s old dress, and amused by her whole attire.
‘Well now, you know I love the way you accessorized,’ she laughed, pointing out Emer’s black boots and biker jacket.
‘Does it look stupid? Am I bit over the top for The Sand Bar?’
‘Not at all, who cares what they think.’ Susannah closed her eyes, and leant back on the pillow. ‘Okay, well. Now have a good time, Rebecca. Don’t be too late.’
Emer nearly corrected her, but Susannah looked so wan and exhausted she didn’t bother. So what if she’d called her Rebecca? It was clear to see the cancer was beginning to really eat away at Susannah’s life force and it made Emer feel sad, and guilty. She considered whether now was the right time to tell her about the letters in the quilt. Susannah had been in such a good mood, but now she was falling asleep, so very tired and weak. Emer would tell her tomorrow. In the morning. When they both had more energy.
Emer walked into town to the sound of the crickets chirruping and the sight of the sun setting over the sea. She pulled out her phone to check the time and saw a missed call from Lars. She tried to push it from her mind, but couldn’t help feeling a twinge of relief. He hadn’t completely rejected her.
Town was quiet enough. Apart from lights, and the sound of music coming from The Sand Bar, the only sign of life was one lone man, standing at the end of town on the part where the road became a bridge over the rushing waters of the Atlantic. The way he was standing reminded her of Lars again. He was always there in the back of her mind. As she got closer, the man moved his hand – a tiny gesture, but it made her heart catch in her throat. He turned around and she stopped dead in her tracks. At the same time, he saw her. It was Lars.
Everything fell away. The whole island slipping off her shoulders and into the Atlantic. Gone was Susannah and her story. Gone was Henry waiting for her in The Sand Bar. All she could think of, all she could see, was this one man standing before her. He was her whole world.
17
Susannah
December 1958
It had only been a few months but even so, Vinalhaven looked different to Susannah’s childhood memories of it at Christmastime. Everything appeared so much smaller than Cambridge. The houses and the harbour. The road seemed narrower, and it had not seemed nearly as long a walk to her house as she remembered yesterday when she’d got off the boat.
The quiet. It was all around her this Christmas morning as she, Kate and her mother walked across the snow-laden island to the Youngs’ house. Susannah found herself missing the noises of city life: honking cars, the chatter of other pedestrians, and the occasional police siren. Most of all, she was missing Ava. Ever since their special Thanksgiving evening, they’d spent as much time together as they could. Hanging out at Club 47, or in coffee houses with other students. Susannah had never felt so alive, so in the right place. Being back home was hard. The fact she didn’t belong here felt even more pronounced than when she’d left. Moreover, they had been invited to Matthew Young’s family house for Christmas dinner, which was not an event she was looking forward to.
‘I don’t understand why we can’t have Christmas at home like always,’ she complained as they trudged through the slushy snow.
‘It would be rude to turn down the invitation,’ her mother said.
At least her mother was talking to her now. Although she still hadn’t asked Susannah one thing about Harvard since she had come through the door last night.
‘But they’re not family,’ Susannah had protested.
‘Not yet,’ Kate said gleefully, her cheeks rosy with cold.
Susannah’s heart sank. She had really hoped Matthew Young might have tired of her sister, and found a new love interest while she was away in Harvard. But since she had been gone, Kate and Matthew had started going steady. Their mother had befriended Matthew’s mother through dressmaking for her, and in return, Mrs Young had insisted they join them for Christmas dinner.
‘It won’t seem like Christmas without Gramps Olsen, Uncle Karl and Aunt Marjorie,’ Susannah said.
‘Things change,’ her mother said. ‘Now that Lottie’s living in Montreal and has a family of her own, of course they are going to want to spend Christmas with her.’
It was hard to believe her cousin had a baby. It only seemed a few winters ago, they’d all been out carol-singing together.
The Young house was on the far side of the island from their home, right on the water’s edge. The family had their own private pier and owned two fishing boats, which bobbed at ease upon the still water. The air was so bright and clear. It really was a perfect winter’s day, and Susannah would much rather have been out sledding.
‘Please try to be nice to him,’ Kate whispered, as they were brought into the house by Mrs Young, a mousy little woman with the same blue eyes as her
