‘I couldn’t do what you do, Em,’ she’d said. ‘I’d be in bits every day. You’re special.’
Yes, she wanted to believe her sister was with the angels, because in some small way it meant Orla was still with her, inside her head, giving her endless advice.
What should I do, Orla? Give me a sign.
She took out her mobile phone, considered calling Lynsey. But what should she say? Your aunt is too difficult. I’m taking the next ferry off the island. Where would she go then? Back to Ireland? The thought of having to move in with her dad and Sharon was enough to make her put the phone back in her pocket. She’d have to stick with Susannah.
The door of the diner opened and she looked up to see Henry, the restaurant-owning sculptor. As soon as he saw her sitting in the window, a big grin spread across his face. He came right over and sat down next to her as if they’d arranged to meet all along. It reminded her that since Lars had tried to call her the day she’d arrived on the island, he hadn’t sent her one voicemail or text. Maybe he’d finally given up on her? She tried to push the thought to the back of her mind.
‘Hey! How you doing?’ Henry asked her. ‘Mind if I join you?’
Why not? She’d no one else to talk to on the island.
‘Sure,’ she said.
The waitress came over and he gave his order. ‘Crab roll with fries, Shirley, please. And my usual coffee.’ He beamed at Emer. ‘Say, you want something to eat?’
Shirley shook her head, giving Henry a long face. ‘She’s one of them vegans, Henry! Ain’t nothing she can eat.’
‘What about some home fries?’ Henry suggested. ‘Shirley makes the best on the whole island.’
Emer succumbed to temptation.
‘Say, how’s Susannah getting on?’ Henry asked, as soon as Shirley went off to fill their orders.
Emer bit her lip. She wanted so much to talk to someone who’d known Susannah before she got sick. ‘I think she’s in a lot of pain, to be honest,’ she said.
Henry nodded, as if she was confirming what he already knew. ‘Guess that comes with the cancer, right?’
‘I’m trying to persuade her to take some of the pain-relief medication she’s been prescribed, but she won’t. Says it messes with her head. She’s every day either at the typewriter or reading books.’
Shirley came over with Henry’s coffee. He poured in cream and sugar before stirring it several times.
‘But I can see she’s suffering, and she’s very… irritable,’ Emer added.
‘Sorry to hear that,’ Henry said, looking right into her eyes. Today the brown of them was almost amber. Emer felt herself blushing. ‘She’s always been a bit of a fierce one,’ Henry added as their food arrived.
‘How do you know Susannah?’ Emer asked Henry.
‘Well, I mean most folk know each other on the island,’ he said. ‘It’s a small community, you know, and Susannah was our town librarian for years. Like I told you before, I used to go to her reading group as a boy.’
‘Oh yes, I forgot,’ said Emer.
‘But I was also friends with Lynsey before I left for art school and she went to Salem,’ he said.
‘Oh, right.’ Emer was surprised. Henry looked to be in his thirties, and Lynsey was a woman in her late forties, perhaps even early fifties. She had to be at least ten years older than him.
‘We used to hang out in The Sand Bar sometimes, when she came home to visit from Salem, and after I’d been fishing with my dad.’
‘You’re a fisherman too?’ Emer asked.
‘Used to fish when I was a boy, like all the men in my family,’ he said. ‘But the life wasn’t for me. I hated it. Put my father in an early grave.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Emer said.
‘It was Lynsey who said I should go study art,’ he said. ‘Don’t think I would have had the confidence to learn to sculpt without her encouragement.’
Emer looked down at Henry’s hands as he tucked into his food. They still looked like working men’s hands. Broad and rough. She guessed sculpting could be as tough on them as fishing.
‘Have you heard of the artist Orla Feeney?’ she asked him, still looking down at his hands.
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Name’s familiar. Who is she?’
‘My sister.’
She was tempted to confide in him, tell him about Orla, and how the art world had lost such a great talent but it was too hard to speak about her in the past tense.
‘Say, why don’t you help Susannah with her typing, whatever it is?’ Henry spoke up. ‘With the two of you working on it she’d get through it faster.’
Emer doubted Susannah would ever let her near her writing again. ‘She has this ancient typewriter. I don’t know how to use it.’
But Henry clearly thought his idea a grand solution and continued to persuade her. ‘Do you have a laptop with you? Yes? Well, do it on that. It’ll be easier than the typewriter and you can save it.’
‘She told me it’s private stuff,’ Emer said.
Henry shrugged his shoulders.
‘You can only offer,’ he said. ‘If she’s in that much pain, she might let you. Then you can find out what exactly it is she’s typing.’ He winked at her.
Emer still felt resistant. ‘But that’s not really what I’m here to do.’
Henry leant forward across the table, waved one of his fries at her. ‘You’re here to help, aren’t you? She’s your patient. Getting dug into all her paperwork is the only way you’ll get to give her some relief.’ Henry popped the fry in his mouth.
‘I suppose I could suggest it to her,’ Emer said, almost as if to herself. It had taken a stranger to point it out to her. Her role now was to help her patient in whatever way it gave her ease. Totally different from her job as a nurse in the hospital.
Henry sat back and crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. ‘And as your reward on afternoons you need a break, I’ll take you for a little hike while Susannah has a nap. How’s that sound?’
Emer’s initial response was to say no. She couldn’t help thinking of Lars, but then she thought of Susannah’s cross face and all those lonely afternoons and evenings in her house where there wouldn’t be that much for her to do apart from cook and clean, and to keep an eye on Susannah’s pain management.
‘Oh, that’s very kind of you, but really, you don’t have to do that.’
‘Well, what about I’d like to?’ Henry insisted. ‘There are so many beauty spots on Vinalhaven, but you need a vehicle to reach them and a guide to know the best trails.’
He was so warm and friendly. Where was the harm? As long as she made it clear, they were just friends. She could do with a friend right now.
On the way back from the market store, it began to rain. The wind had picked up and the rain lashed into Emer as she struggled up the hill with her bags of shopping. She hadn’t intended to leave Susannah for so long. The anxiety began to build inside her. What kind of nurse was she, to walk out without even telling her patient where she was going? She’d been gone for hours. The chat with Henry had felt so good. Which had confused her further. Talking to Henry made her miss Lars even more.
After Henry and his husky, Shadow, had driven off, she’d spent way too long in the market store, excited by all the vegan possibilities, and had spent a fortune on all sorts of treats: olives, hummus, seaweed snacks, chips and vegan ice cream.
It almost felt as if the darkness of the rain outside had permeated through the walls of Susannah’s house. Emer stepped into the gloom of her new home, switching on the lamp in the hall, immediately noting the quiet. Susannah was no longer typing. She knocked on the door of her study. No answer. She knocked again and softly pushed the door open. No Susannah. The room appeared to be in great disarray. Papers balanced everywhere in piles, books opened up and littering the floor. Shutting the door, Emer went upstairs and knocked on Susannah’s bedroom door, but she wasn’t in there either. She searched the whole house and it was quite clear Susannah was now
here to be seen. But the town was so small: there was only one food market, and not much else. If Susannah had been there, surely they would have passed one another on the road? Moreover, Susannah’s pick-up was still parked outside. She must be walking distance away. Emer looked out into the gathering dusk. The rain was even heavier now. Where was Susannah?
This was her fault. Maybe the old lady had gone looking for her? She pulled on her boots and coat, and braced herself for the elements again.
Outside, she was pushed back down the hill by the wind. Susannah could have gone to look for her back down at the ferry terminal. Just as she was going to take a turn to the right, she saw a small road to the left she hadn’t noticed before. Leaves were twirling off the trees. One landed on her boot. It was exactly the same shade of red as her sister’s hair.
Something told her to take the turn. She walked down the little road, arriving at the entrance to a cemetery. As soon as she walked into the small field of headstones, she could see a figure bent in the wind, standing before one of the graves. It was her patient. Head tucked into her chest, her coat flapping open like two big black bird wings.
Emer called to her, but either Susannah didn’t hear her, or she was ignoring her.
Emer was soaked through as she pushed through the wind and rain. She put a hand on Susannah’s shoulder.
‘Susannah, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!’
But Susannah was transfixed. Staring at the gravestone in front of her.
Kate Young
Beloved wife, mother, daughter and sister.
1940 – 1966
She’d been young. Only twenty-six years old. The same age as Orla when she died.
‘Are you okay?’ Emer asked Susannah. ‘Is Kate your sister?’ She remembered Susannah saying that Rebecca’s mother Kate had made the quilt. The same young woman she had looked at in the photograph on Susannah’s desk that morning.
Susannah suddenly whipped around, yelling at her with blazing eyes. ‘What are you doing here? Why are you always spying on me?’
Emer felt stung by her hostility, but she controlled her emotions. Despite the older woman’s fury, Emer could see her face was wet not just with rain, but with tears.
She’s frightened, Emer heard Orla tell her. Help her.
‘I was worried about you,’ Emer said in a firm voice. ‘Your niece employed me to look after you, and whether you like it or not, that’s what I’m going to do.’
Susannah looked as if she’d slapped her in the face, opening her mouth only to close it again without saying a word.
‘Now, you’re coming home with me before you catch your death.’ The words were out before she could stop them.
Susannah gave a cheerless laugh. ‘Well now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?’ she said bitterly. ‘I am staying right here. You go before you catch your death.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Emer insisted.
The two women commenced a stand-off, but the wind was battering into them. Emer could see Susannah shivering with the cold. With her coat open, the rain had drenched her sweater. Emer was worried she was going to get pneumonia.
‘Please, Susannah, come home with me.’ Emer held out her hand.
Susannah ignored her, turning her attention back to the headstone. She put a blue hand on the wet marble.
‘I’m the only one who looks after Kate’s grave. Rebecca comes when she visits, but it’s not that often. Lynsey never comes down here. Imagine that? Her own mother.’
Emer didn’t know how to respond to that. ‘Maybe it upsets her too much?’ she ventured gently.
Susannah harrumphed. ‘I don’t think those girls remember their own mom. No matter how much I told them about her.’
‘Were you older or younger than Kate?’ Emer asked Susannah.
‘I was the eldest,’ Susannah said. ‘I should have gone first.’
‘Me, too,’ Emer said, offering Susannah her hand. ‘I’m the eldest of two girls, too.’
‘Ah, at last… Something we have in common,’ Susannah said, gruffly, but undeniably interested at last, letting Emer lead her away from the grave across the muddy grass. Emer was horrified by how cold Susannah’s hand was. Wet and clammy, shaking, too. She put her arm around her and helped her as they stumbled in the rain back across the cemetery.
Back home, Emer helped Susannah undress as quickly as she could. There was no time for propriety. Susannah’s teeth were chattering non-stop and her eyes had a feverish glare already. The worst thing would be if she got an infection when her immune system was so compromised. Having been so defiant, Susannah now succumbed to Emer’s care. The trip to the cemetery seemed to have completely spent all her energy. Emer rubbed her down with a towel, and helped her into a clean nightdress before getting her into bed. She took her temperature and, as she suspected, the older woman now had a fever.
‘What were you thinking, going out in that rain?’ she admonished her gently.
‘I wanted to talk to Kate,’ Susannah said in a frail voice. ‘You’ve a sister, you understand.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Emer said in a quiet voice.
She couldn’t say it out loud yet. That she used to have a sister.
‘What’s her name?’ Susannah asked her.
‘Orla,’ Emer said, her voice hoarse with emotion.
‘Pretty name,’ Susannah whispered, closing her eyes.
11
Susannah
October 1958
The ferry left Vinalhaven just as the sun was rising, with a pale distant orb of moon still in the sky. The first few rays of warmth and light washed over Susannah as she stood on the small deck area, and tried to see past the bridge of the boat to the terminal. Kate was still waiting for her departure, hugging her sides in the early morning chill. Susannah waved and Kate waved back again as the ferry left the harbour, pushing out into still waters. It was the calm before the storm. A nor’easter was predicted, coming from Canada and due to hit the island in the evening. Susannah felt a twinge of worry about her mom and Kate, but they’d lived through enough nor’easters just the three of them. The wailing of the wind around their house always made Susannah feel something bad was coming. One year the neighbours’ chicken house had been thrown by the wind into their garden. She and Kate had found the chickens hiding under their porch. They hadn’t laid eggs for weeks after that.
Susannah watched Kate walk right to the edge of the harbour, take her red scarf from her neck and wave it like a banner. She unwound her own blue scarf and did the same thing. Tears pricked her eyes. It hurt so much to leave Kate. She felt like she was abandoning her and yet she couldn’t stay. Kate often talked about how she imagined their island was part of a magical kingdom apart from all the rest of the world. She believed time was different on Vinalhaven with all the seasons at different paces. The slow measured breath of snowfall, the heat and race of summer, long endless days of steady rain, and the sudden fury of a storm. Nature was their queen and they were all subject to her whim. There was an island part of Susannah. She could never deny it. A deep wish to hide away in their house. A whole life could be spent in such a way. Look at her mom. Afraid even to take the boat to Rockland for the day. But Susannah pushed against this desire to retreat, because even more powerful was her need to be a part of a bigger picture, to learn and to connect. She’d always known she was different and if she didn’t leave now, she might never understand why.
It had taken her weeks to build up the courage to tell her mother. After the thrilling day when the letter of acceptance had arrived at the library and she and Mrs Matlock had actually hugged, Susannah had put off telling her mother.
‘You really need to speak to her,’ Mrs Matlock encouraged Susannah every time she called into the library. ‘I’m sure she’ll be proud of you, Susannah. I mean, you got a full scholarship too!’ Mrs Matlock beamed.
‘I couldn’t have done it without your tutoring,’ Susannah said.
Mrs Matlock’s wide smile took years off
her face. In those bright blue eyes, Susannah saw the young idealistic student who had also gone to Harvard so many years before her.
‘It was my pleasure, Susannah,’ Mrs Matlock said. ‘Just promise you’ll write to me.’
Susannah had immediately confided in Kate too, and the two sisters had danced around their bedroom. Her sister’s advice had been different from Mrs Matlock’s.
‘Tell her closer to the time,’ she’d said. ‘Then it’ll all be organised and she can’t stop you.’
Finally, just two weeks before the academic year was due to begin, Susannah could postpone telling her mother no longer. She waited until they were eating Sunday dinner, right after church when she was hoping her mother was feeling the most generous in spirit.
‘Mom, I’ve got something important to show you,’ Susannah said, her voice shaking with nerves as she handed her mother the letter from Harvard.
‘What’s this?’ said her mother, putting down her knife and fork.
Kate gave Susannah an encouraging smile while their mother read the letter.
‘How long have you known about this?’ her mother said, placing the letter down on the table, and giving Susannah a hard stare.
‘I only just found out, a day or two ago,’ she lied.
‘Well, how come it’s dated for nearly three weeks ago?’ her mother said, her cheeks flushing with annoyance. ‘Why would you do something like this behind my back?’
‘But Mom, we should be proud!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘Susie is going to Harvard! Imagine! It’s so amazing.’
Susannah would never forget the look of disappointment on her mother’s face.
‘But that’s not what a girl your age should be doing,’ she’d said. ‘You should be looking to get married and start a family.’
‘I can come back and do that after college,’ Susannah tried to placate her, although in her heart she had no intention of getting married and having children. If she said this out loud, her mom and even Katie would be shocked.
The Island Girls: A heartbreaking historical novel Page 9