The Passions of Emma (63 page)
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“But you can’t just—” His voice broke. “What are you going to do?”
She smiled. She couldn’t help smiling even though she also wanted to cry. “I don’t know. Perhaps I’ll sail to Viana do Castelo.”
“It’s him, isn’t it?” he said, his face hardening. “I suspected there
was someone else, but a gentleman should always give a lady the benefit of the doubt, and so . . . You’re going to him.” And then she realized that he wasn’t looking at her anymore, he was looking beyond, at the man who stood outside the scrolled gates.
was someone else, but a gentleman should always give a lady the benefit of the doubt, and so . . . You’re going to him.” And then she realized that he wasn’t looking at her anymore, he was looking beyond, at the man who stood outside the scrolled gates.
Shay McKenna had his hands wrapped around the iron bars, and then he pushed the gate open and walked through.
She picked up the skirts of her wedding gown and walked down the flagstone path to meet him.
“Emma, don’t be like this!” Geoffrey cried after her.
She heard his steps on the path, coming after her, and she was suddenly afraid that somehow he would be able to stop her, and so she picked her skirts up higher and she began to run.
She stopped in front of Shay McKenna, her man, her heart, her life—breathless, laughing, excited, scared, and in love . . . in love.
“Miss Emma Tremayne,” he said. “I’ve come for you. So are you coming with me now, or no?”
“Yes,” she said.
To her surprise, for it wasn’t at all like him, he let out a boyish whoop. Then he scooped her up into his arms and began to carry her away with him.
She looked back over his shoulder and saw Geoffrey standing there in the middle of the quahog-shell drive, with his hands hanging empty at his sides.
She turned her head and kissed Shay’s neck. “I was going to come after you in New York,” she said.
He laughed. “Were you, now?”
“Let’s take the sloop,” she said. “I want to leave here by sailing away.”
They had just cast off when Geoffrey burst out of the trees, running hard after her now that it was too late, and crying her name.
Emma took off her wedding veil and slipped the ring he had given her off her finger. She tied the ring to the veil with a white
satin ribbon, then threw the veil into the water, where the tide would carry it back to him.
satin ribbon, then threw the veil into the water, where the tide would carry it back to him.
The mist had burned off and the day was blue, intensely blue, with white gun-puffs of clouds.
Emma stood in the cockpit of the
Icarus
, with one hand bracing on the backstay, and she let the sun and the wind and the sea go through her.
Icarus
, with one hand bracing on the backstay, and she let the sun and the wind and the sea go through her.
She looked back toward Poppasquash Point, to the pebble and shell beach and the paper birches blazing green with their new leaves.
Her gaze caught a flash of something white on the shore.
A woman in a batiste and lace night rail, standing proud and strong, with her red hair blowing wild in the wind. And then in an instant she was gone, and Emma saw only a stand of birches, their trunks flashing silver in the sun.
But she lifted her hand anyway, and waved. Not goodbye, but a fare-thee-well.
“And is it thinking you are, Miss Emma Tremayne, how you’re going to be regretting this foolishness someday?”
She looked at him, into his eyes. She had always so loved his eyes. And the moment was so wonderful, she was afraid that if she so much as breathed it would spill over, and she would lose some of its happiness.
But then she was with her love, and so there would always be more happiness to be found and cherished, even though the future was as unfathomable as the black holes between the stars at night.
“Perhaps I will,” she said, smiling, laughing. “But in the meantime it’s a grand and glorious time that I’ll be having, Seamus McKenna.”
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