by Sophie Love
“Not too many,” Emily warned. “We don’t want to spoil our dinner.”
“That’s a good point,” Roy said, his voice obscured by the hard candy he was sucking on. “I have a wonderful meal planned for you all. A roast dinner.”
Chantelle looked excited. She licked her lips hungrily.
“I think we should take that as a sign,” Daniel laughed. “Time to head home.”
Everyone agreed and they headed back to Roy’s cottage on the cliffside.
*
Emily forked the last bit of lamb and roast potato into her mouth. “Dad,” she said, “that was a triumph.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” Roy chuckled. “Daniel? Chantelle? What did you both think?”
“The Yorkshire pudding was amazing,” Daniel said. “I wish we had these back in America.”
“They’re very easy to make,” Roy said. “I’ll give you the recipe.”
“I liked all of it,” Chantelle said.
Emily saw that her plate was completely clean. There wasn’t even any gravy left!
“I can see that,” Roy said with a jovial chuckle.
Daniel and Chantelle collected the plates and took them to the kitchen to wash up together, while Emily and Roy retired to the living room.
The small room was very cozy, and Emily sunk into the large couch beside her father.
“Have you had a nice day, darling?” Roy asked.
“It’s been lovely,” Emily replied. She stifled a yawn. “I’m quite tired now though. That was quite a lot of walking to do after such a long flight, even if I was asleep the whole time.”
Chantelle and Daniel came into the room then, having finished tidying. Daniel was carrying a tray with a teapot and mugs on it.
“I thought we might all want some after-dinner tea,” he said.
“And some mint thins,” Chantelle added, producing a dark green box and placing it on the tray.
“What a lovely idea,” Emily agreed.
As Daniel placed the tray on the coffee table before them, Emily noticed a stack of what looked like photo albums on its middle shelf, hidden under some piles of gardening magazines. The design on their jackets looked exactly the same as the ones Daniel had salvaged from the shed during the storm when she’d first arrived at Sunset Harbor.
“Dad, can I look at these?” Emily asked, curious to see what they contained.
Roy looked confused. “Oh, I’d completely forgotten they were there. I don’t even know what’s in them!”
Emily picked the first one up, wiping off the layer of dust that had built up on it over the years. Chantelle came and sat beside her—dark chocolate already smeared around her mouth—eager to join in.
Emily opened up the album in her hands and was immediately floored by what she saw.
“It’s me!” she exclaimed.
There were four photos on the double-page spread, each one of her as a newborn baby, in the hospital, lying in her mother’s arms for the first time. Patricia looked enamored with the precious baby in her arms. Emily had never in her life seen her mother look that way, not the least at her. It was an expression of deep love. The sight brought tears to Emily’s eyes.
“You were a cute baby,” Daniel gushed, peering over from the other side of Roy.
“She was,” Roy added. “Such beautiful big eyes. Your mother and I adored you from the second we set eyes on you.”
Emily could see as much. She just wondered how it had all gone so spectacularly wrong.
She turned the page, filled with a mixture of anticipation and dread.
The next four pictures were of her again, this time surrounded by extended family members and friends. Someone had knitted her a pink hat which was placed on her head.
“Aw, Mommy!” Chantelle exclaimed. “Look at your hat!”
Everyone else was chuckling but Emily felt odd looking at the pictures, looking at these moments of her life that she couldn’t remember. There had been a time when her mom and dad were happy together, happy with her, united as a family. It was an alien concept to her.
“This was when we first brought you home,” Roy said.
Emily nodded silently and turned the page. Four more pictures. Four more versions of herself.
“How many photos did you take?” Emily asked, her voice a raspy whisper.
“I got a little carried away,” Roy admitted. “I think I took at least one picture of you every day.”
Emily’s eyes widened and held up the photo album. “You mean this whole thing is filled with me?”
Roy nodded. Then he gestured to the others stacked on the coffee table shelf. “They all are.”
Emily began to turn the pages a little more quickly, glancing at each picture, seeing herself grow minutely on a day-by-day basis. It was extraordinary. She’d had no idea her father had produced such detailed records of her growing up. It made sense that he would considering his character, but it was still miraculous to her.
Emily became overwhelmed then, by emotion, by loss. She felt Roy’s abandonment of her again, so keenly. But she also felt more than that. She felt his own emotional turmoil. Things must have gotten so bad for him and his own mental state to make him walk away from her, when he so clearly adored her.
“Emily Jane?” Roy said gently beside her.
“I’m sorry!” Emily blurted. “I just… there’s just so much here. I didn’t know you’d documented all of this.”
Chantelle wrapped her arms around Emily’s neck. “It’s okay, Mommy. We don’t mind if you cry.”
Emily felt comforted by her family. She felt Daniel reach over from the other side of the couch to squeeze her shoulder. Their support made her tears fall more freely.
“How many albums do you think you have?” Emily asked her dad.
He shook his head. “It’s so hard to say. I sent a lot of pictures to extended family members and friends as well. I imagine there’ll be quite a few scattered over the house, in the garage and attic. Then it’s highly likely there’s some in Maine, still others in Greece.” He looked guilty. “I’m not always the most organized person.”
“I’d love to see some of Charlotte,” Emily said. “If you can find them.”
“Maybe another day,” Daniel suggested. “I think we’re all a bit tired now.”
Emily nodded her agreement. She managed to dam her tears. Then they all climbed the rickety staircase, saying goodnight once they reached the landing at the top.
Inside her room, Emily sunk down into bed. She felt spent, both physically and emotionally, and wondered what else the vacation would have in store for her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Emily woke the next morning in the unfamiliar surroundings of her father’s cottage. The wallpaper was fading, stripes of pink roses running down the walls. The pillow felt strange beneath her head; duck feather, she guessed.
Daniel stirred beside her. “You’re awake,” he said. “And not throwing up.”
“You’re right,” Emily replied. She touched her stomach protectively. “I slept the whole night through.”
“Baby Charlotte must be a fan of Roy’s roast dinner,” Daniel joked.
Emily watched as he slung back the covers and clambered out of the old bed, which squeaked beneath him as he stood. The extra work he’d been putting in on the spa had honed his physique even more, she noted dreamily.
“I wonder what my father has planned for us today,” Emily said.
She too got out of bed, and dressed herself for the day in a loose-fitting shirt and summery skirt. She noticed that the waistband was getting tighter. Looking in the mirror that stood in the corner of the room, she noticed the changes that had begun to take place in her body. She looked rounder, a little softer and squishier, and couldn’t help but muse on the fact that while Daniel seemed to be becoming buffer day by day she was becoming rounder. Meanwhile, Chantelle was growing like a beanpole and her father was shrinking. Time and circumstances were changing them all before her very ey
es.
Once they were both dressed and ready for the day, Emily and Daniel went to awaken Chantelle. But they found her bed empty.
“She must be up having breakfast with Papa Roy,” Emily said, remembering the way the two had enjoyed breakfasts together when he’d been staying at the inn.
They went down the narrow staircase and followed the higgledy-piggledy corridor through the lounge and out into the kitchen. Sure enough, Chantelle and Roy were both there, sitting at the large oak table still strewn with clock pieces and cogs.
“Good morning,” Roy said, looking up and beaming at them.
Chantelle glanced up from the clock pieces in front of her. She was holding a screwdriver in one hand and had a magnifying eyeglass on one eye. She grinned widely.
“What’s going on here?” Emily asked, amused.
“Papa Roy’s teaching me how to fix clocks,” Chantelle said, scratching beneath the strap that fastened the peculiar-looking eye glass in place.
“Is he now?” Emily laughed. “And how is she getting on?”
“A natural of course,” Roy said.
In front of Chantelle there was also an empty bowl of oatmeal.
“You’ve had something for breakfast?” Emily asked.
“Papa Roy made me porridge,” Chantelle announced. “Do you want some too?”
“I think I’ll have eggs this morning,” Daniel said. “Emily?”
“Just plain toast for me,” Emily said, taking a seat. She felt very heavy today, like her muscles had less power in them than usual.
“Oh no, Mommy, were you sick again?” Chantelle asked with concern, putting her screwdriver down.
Emily shook her head. “No, actually. Today was the first day I didn’t have morning sickness.”
“It’s the water,” Roy said. “Soft and filled with minerals like magnesium. That’s very good for settling a stomach.”
“I should probably bottle some and take it home, in that case,” Emily said with a laugh. “Although we might have some trouble getting it through customs.”
Daniel returned to the table with his fried egg on toast and Emily’s plain toast. He set it down in front of her.
“That doesn’t look too appetizing, my dear,” Roy said. “Why not add some of my homemade jam? It’s blackberry. I forage them from the brambles myself.” Then his eyes glittered with excitement. “In fact, Chantelle, we need to go berry picking while you’re here! It’s great fun. We can make a crumble with our winnings.”
Chantelle grinned and nodded her head eagerly.
Emily smeared some of the jam on her toast but the taste was still too strong for her. “It’s lovely, Dad, but I think I’ll pass,” she said.
As she continued with her plain breakfast, she noticed that her father wasn’t actually eating anything. He just had a steaming cup of tea and a glass of juice in front of him.
“Didn’t you eat anything this morning?” she asked him, a little concerned. If he was skipping breakfast that might explain the weight loss.
“I ate before you were all up,” Roy explained. “I get up at daybreak so that I can water the plants and vegetable garden.”
Chantelle giggled. “You’re so silly, Papa Roy. The plants don’t care.”
“Au contraire!” Roy replied. “Plants prefer to be watered while it’s still cool. Otherwise the water might evaporate before they’ve had a chance to drink their fill. Honestly, my dear, and you call yourself a gardener!”
Everyone laughed.
Just then, Daniel’s phone made a noise. He checked it, frowning.
“Is everything okay?” Emily asked.
“It’s Jack,” Daniel replied. “He said he’s pulled his back and is taking a week off work.”
“Oh no,” Emily said. “I hope he’s okay.” Then she thought of the inn. “Will it delay the renovations?”
Daniel shook his head. “No, Jack’s hired a contractor to cover him. He hopes that’s okay with you.”
“Of course it is,” Emily said, appreciating his diligence. “Wish him a speedy recovery from all of us.”
Daniel quickly typed a message into his phone, then stowed it back in his pocket. “So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked, finishing off the last of his breakfast.
“I thought it would be nice to take the boat out,” Roy replied. “The weather is supposed to be nice today, and I know you’ll be hankering to sail.”
Emily didn’t much like the idea of going out on the boat; she felt as if she’d cheated her morning sickness somehow and wondered whether it would retaliate by striking at a later, more embarrassing moment.
“Can we fish as well?” Chantelle asked, looking thrilled by the prospect of sailing.
“Of course,” Roy said. “We can catch our supper. Herring. Mackerel. Plaice. Pollock. Cod. They all swim in our oceans and every one tastes delicious battered with a side of mushy peas and chips.”
Chantelle laughed again. She looked so delighted by the outing that Emily didn’t have the heart to interject. If fate was going to make her throw up on the boat trip then she was just going to have to accept it.
*
It was midday by the time they made it down to the docks, and the sun was bright in the sky.
“I didn’t know England could be this sunny,” Chantelle said. “I thought it was supposed to always rain.”
“Not always,” Roy replied. “Just almost always.”
He led them to his boat. Daniel seemed very impressed.
“It’s a beautiful vessel, Roy,” he gushed. “It’s a shame you only get a few days a year to take her out.”
“I know, but it makes it all the more special when I do,” Roy replied.
He got on board and helped Emily and Chantelle on in turn. Daniel followed after.
As he turned to get the motor going, Roy began to cough rather loudly.
“Dad, are you okay?” Emily asked, concerned. After his weight loss and the spiel he’d given this morning about having breakfast before any of them had woken up, her worry over him had only increased. She was oversensitive to every little sign that things might not be so great for him at the moment.
“Just a tickle at the back of my throat,” Roy said, and true to his word, the coughing soon subsided.
He got the engine running and then pulled them out of the dock, heading for the ocean. Chantelle gazed out at the ocean with wonder, clutching her fishing rod ready to spring into action.
Thankfully for Emily, the water was calm today and her flavorless breakfast stayed put in her stomach. The ocean smelled very salty, though, so it wasn’t entirely plain sailing for her.
As Chantelle, Roy, and Daniel began fishing, Emily lay back on the bench and caught some rays. She felt very relaxed, listening to the happy chatter of her family, feeling the gentle summer rays on her skin. In fact, it was the most relaxed she’d felt in weeks, in months even. If this was what Doctor Arkwright meant when she said to take it easy, Emily had thus far followed her advice rather woefully. She made a promise to herself to be kinder on her body when she got back home. Depending on how well Lois had handled the inn in her absence, perhaps she should consider extending her temporary leadership position, allowing Emily herself to go down to part time.
Just then, she heard cheering and exclamations. She sat up, her sun hat flopping down beside her.
“Chantelle caught a bass!” Daniel exclaimed, holding up the slippery fish. Its fins glittered in the light.
“Amazing work,” Emily gushed. She was very proud of Chantelle. Not many seven-year-olds had the patience to fish, but she was becoming something of a pro.
“Well, that can be our lunch then,” Roy said with a smile.
But once again he was overcome by a fit of coughing. This time, it was more than just Emily’s expression that turned to concern. Chantelle looked up at her Papa Roy with fearful eyes.
“Are you sick, Papa Roy?” she asked, sounding younger than normal with her anxiety.
He waved his han
ds, coughing too hard to speak. Daniel handed him a bottle of water, which he sipped. Emily worried her hands in her lap as she watched on. Roy had gone quite red in the face.
Finally, he stopped coughing. “I’m fine, honestly. It’s nothing.”
He sounded reassuring, but Emily couldn’t help the nagging worry that seemed to be growing in the back of her mind.
*
After returning to the cottage for a lunch of fish and chips, Emily started to feel very tired.
“Who would like to go for a stroll in the forest?” Roy asked, looking across the empty plates on the table at his family.
“I do!” Chantelle cried.
Emily shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to need to sit this one out. I’m feeling tired. I might go and take a nap, then hopefully I’ll feel better for whatever is planned for the evening.”
Daniel looked worried. He rubbed her shoulders tenderly. “I’ll stay here with you. Roy, Chantelle, do you mind taking a stroll on your own?”
“Not at all,” Roy said. “You know I relish any opportunity to chat with my sweet granddaughter.”
He ruffled her hair. Chantelle grinned from ear to ear.
“Are there brambles in the forest?” she asked.
Roy snapped his fingers as if she’d had a triumphant idea. “Of course there are! Let’s take a basket and fill it with blackberries. Then if your mom is still snoozing when we get back we can make her a crumble.”
“That sounds like a lovely way to be woken up,” Emily agreed.
Chantelle and Roy put on their jackets and collected a wicker basket for the berries, which Chantelle carried over her arm. It reminded Emily of when she’d been a flower girl at the wedding, distributing petals from her basket onto the aisle, and she smiled to herself at the memory.
She and Daniel saw the two of them out, waving as they strolled light-footedly down the path, across the garden, and out the gate. Then Daniel scooped his arm around her waist and led her back inside.
They retired to the living room. Emily tucked her feet up under her as she snuggled into the comfortable, old couch.
