‘If we didn’t have Shadow with us we’d see more wildlife,’ Henry said to her. ‘You might catch a glimpse of a hare, or some otter by the creek.’
They climbed up some rocks, rising above the treeline. The view was staggering. The blue ocean swayed before her, and views of North Haven island across the bay, and Vinalhaven to the east and south.
‘My god,’ she said. ‘It almost beats the west of Ireland.’
‘Almost?’ Henry questioned her, an amused look on his face.
‘Well, nothing is quite like the west,’ she said as they sat down on the rock and shared a bar of chocolate.
‘You’ll have to take me one day,’ he said.
His words hung in the air, unanswered.
Dusk was beginning to descend as they drove back across the island. Emer’s legs were sore from all the walking, but she felt good. It was soothing to be in nature, to stretch her body and feel space all around her.
‘Are you hungry?’ Henry asked her. ‘Would you like to come back to mine for food?’
‘Well, I should get back to Susannah,’ Emer said, hunting for an excuse.
‘But you told me Lynsey’s there overnight,’ he said. ‘Don’t you think you need a proper break?’
‘I suppose.’ She was unsure though. Would Lynsey cope on her own if there was a medical emergency?
‘I’ve made pumpkin and pecan pie,’ he said. ‘It’s my speciality every fall.’
Emer did want to go back to Susannah. Check in on her, and talk more with Lynsey. But then, she didn’t know how to say no to Henry.
‘Okay, for a little bit.’ She gave in. ‘I’ll just give them a call. Let them know I’ll be back later.’
‘I don’t think you’ll get network here. Call them from mine.’
Henry drove along the island road, pulling in by a small cove. He parked the car, but Emer couldn’t see a house anywhere, just a small motorboat moored to a little wooden quay.
Henry opened his door and let Shadow jump out.
‘My house is on its own islet.’ He indicated the boat. ‘We need to take my boat there.’
Emer immediately felt tense. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a small boat.
‘Maybe I should go back; it’s late.’
‘It’s not far, literally a few minutes by boat.’
She didn’t know what to say, embarrassed to admit she was scared of boats.
He helped her in, and Shadow jumped in next to her. She held on to the fur at the husky’s neck as they took off across the water. Sea sprayed her face and she tasted salt on her lips. Her stomach swelled with the motion of the water as they sped across the bay.
It was a new moon rising, as the daylight leached from the sky. The whole bay glittered, and the ocean glinted in the distance as they approached Henry’s tiny little island, all dark pines with a flagpole and the American flag fluttering on it. Would it be safe to return on the dark water? She guessed Henry had done it a hundred times before.
The house was hidden behind the pines. Shadow ran on ahead, a white ghost dog in the dusk. ‘Careful, it’s a bit slippery on the wet stones,’ Henry said, taking her hand to help her along the rocky trail. They came to a clearing, within which stood a small wooden house.
‘It’s so quaint!’ Emer said, glad to be off the boat. And it was: it seemed like a fairy-tale house in the woods. But as she looked at it in the fading light, she couldn’t help thinking of Hansel and Gretel. She shook herself. Henry was hardly a witch.
‘Built it myself,’ Henry told her proudly as they climbed the steps to the porch. ‘My father started it, but he died with it unfinished. So I took over.’
Inside, the house was filled with beautiful things. Emer was quite taken aback. She had been expecting a cluttered, rather messy bachelor’s pad like Lars’ apartment in Boston. But Henry had clearly spent a lot of time and effort creating a little haven. The walls were covered with art. Not just traditional landscapes of the sea and boats, but more contemporary pieces. He pointed out a couple of his own sculptures. They were all soft contours and smooth edges, naked bodies entwined or creatures of the island. A fox, and an otter. He’d used island granite for most of them. She liked them.
The main room had a large glass porch, facing out onto the pine woods and the sea. Henry turned on the lamps and the room was filled with a warm glow, outside immediately dark. She walked around, looking at the art, and then her heart stopped.
‘Oh my god!’
‘What is it?’ Henry asked, all concern as she turned to him, her eyes wide with incredulity.
‘That’s one of Orla’s paintings.’
She pointed with shaking finger at a small mixed media piece. She remembered Orla making it, just before one of her last exhibitions. It was of the woods back home in Ireland. Giant moths fluttering around the light emanating from a broad oak tree. Orla had called it The Light House.
‘You’re kidding?’ Henry said. ‘I bought that last year. Went to the exhibition with friends in Boston.’
‘How insane! I can’t believe the coincidence,’ Emer said, staring at the painting. Had Orla just sent her a sign?
Henry poured them each a large glass of red wine, before popping his pie in the oven.
‘Won’t take long to warm up,’ he told her, putting out a selection of nuts and tortilla chips on the coffee table.
‘How long have you lived here?’ Emer asked Henry as she sipped her wine. It tasted of blackberries and dark cherry, and she felt herself relax even with the first mouthful.
‘In this house, five years,’ he said, sitting next to her on the couch. ‘Before that, on the island, in my family home all my life. I mean, I left to study art in New York, worked in restaurants making my way up the ladder too, but I always knew I was
