“But I actually am here unexpectedly,” Eric said. “So maybe it’s a coincidence.”
“I keep playing that game with myself. The coincidence game. Trying to figure out if there’s some kind of conspiracy going on or if I’m just putting all these things together.”
“What things?”
She told him about the clearing in the woods, about the sign with the etching of the man’s face made from leaves, and how she found a ring in Bruce’s travel bag with the same face.
“He’s a part-owner here, right?”
“That’s what I figured, too. But why did he hide the ring from me?”
“Maybe he wasn’t hiding it. Maybe he just doesn’t wear it.”
“See, now you’re doing it. Making up excuses for all these things that don’t make sense. Maybe the phone really is out. Maybe I really did dream I saw Jill Greenly outside my bunk—”
“That part we know is true. I saw her, too.”
“So what do you think is the most logical explanation? What’s your best guess?”
“If we assume that I was hired by your husband to test you, then he knows that you cheated on him. And if it was important enough for him to even set up the test in the first place, then he must have brought you here for a reason. He’s going to punish you in some way.”
“So what do you think I should do?”
Eric thought for a moment, rubbing a finger along the patch of hair under his lower lip.
“Tell your husband you know what he did, and that you’re leaving him. And then move in here with me and we’ll wait for the plane together.”
“I’m not … I don’t have feelings for you. If anything … I feel like I was raped by you.”
Eric looked down at the floor. “I know. You should hate me, but I’m telling you that you can also trust me. And it’s also possible that I may be able to protect you for the rest of the time on this island. You can move in with me. It’ll be the two of us, at least, against all of them. Not great odds, but better odds than you had before.”
Abigail thought of Mellie’s words earlier, how she’d told her to just hold on, that the plane would come. What would happen if she actually left Bruce in the middle of their honeymoon and moved into a bunk with another man?
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Then I have another suggestion,” Eric said. “Go to Bruce and just tell him everything, ask him to tell you everything as well. Put it all out there and see what happens. It will be hard, but maybe there is some sort of logical explanation for everything that’s been going on. Maybe he’ll be reasonable.”
Abigail, still thinking, nodded, not in agreement but because she wanted more time to think. The truth was, she wanted to stay here, in this bunk with this man, and wait for the plane to come. This, despite the fact that waves of horror were beginning to wash over her. She really did feel as though she’d been raped. Taken against her will, even though it had felt like willingness at the time. But even though Eric had been the instrument of that rape, Bruce was the architect.
“You okay, Abigail?” Eric said after a while.
“No, not really,” she said, just as there was a knock on the door that made her jump.
Eric stood, said, “Wait there,” to Abigail in a low voice, then opened the door. From where Abigail sat she could only see the shadow of the person standing in the doorframe, but she could hear the voice. It was Bruce saying, “I’m looking for my wife.”
Eric, not hesitating, said, “Well, she’s not here.”
Bruce said, “Then you won’t mind if I take a look around your bunk.”
“Yeah, I do mind.”
Abigail watched Eric begin to shut the door, then he was leaning hard against it. Bruce yelled, “Abigail, I know you’re in there.”
“Fuck off,” Eric said, and leaned harder into the door, gaining a few inches. He turned toward Abigail, his skin red with exertion, his face questioning, then he lowered his shoulder and got the door to slam. He held it shut as Bruce hollered from the outside, repeatedly kicking at the door. Some of what he yelled was muffled, but Abigail caught words, including “liar” and “bitch.”
She got out of her chair and went up close to Eric, whispered, “I’m going out the back.”
“No, stay here,” he whispered back.
“He’s not going to give up. You need to show him the empty bunk.”
“Come back, then. Later.”
Bruce must have rammed into the door from the outside, because Eric bucked back a little, then smiled.
“I’m going,” Abigail said. “I’ll come back.”
“Promise.”
“I don’t know.”
She opened the back door quietly and stepped outside. There was no back deck on this bunk, just a narrow oblong of landscaping and then the woods. As she approached the tree line, she heard Bruce again, his voice hoarse from yelling, shout, “Abigail, you fucking whore. I’m your goddamned husband.”
CHAPTER 23
For a while she walked blindly through the woods, just wanting to put distance between herself and Bruce. Tears filled her eyes, and she kept wiping them away, willing herself not to buckle over and sob, even though that was exactly what she felt like doing.
She had married some kind of psychopath, someone so paranoid and vindictive that he had hired a man to test her fidelity on her bachelorette weekend.
You failed that test, though, didn’t you?
She ignored that particular voice in her head for now. Anger welled up in her. He’d wanted her to fail. He’d hired a handsome man, someone perfectly constructed to appeal to her, and that man had peeled her away from the herd, gotten her drunk, and seduced her. No, it was worse than that. It really was a
