as Bruce went into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, then emerged. He was moving quietly, and Abigail was hopeful that it meant he wouldn’t try to wake her once he was in bed, but after he got in beside her, he gently placed a hand on the small of her back, making circular rubbing motions with his thumb. Abigail shifted, mumbled into her pillow, then said, “Good night, honey,” in what she hoped sounded like a sleep-slurred voice.
“Good night,” he said, but moved his hand lower down so that it rested at the rise of her buttocks.
“Sleepy,” she said into the pillow, and he took his hand away.
She lay as still as she could, breathing the way she imagined she did when she slept, and after twenty minutes Bruce flipped onto his side and began to snore.
On the veranda in the morning, not having slept at all, she realized she still hadn’t decided exactly what her plan was. In case of the “psychotic stalker” scenario she had decided to not go down to the pond and confront Scottie. She did know she would have to speak with him eventually, and she was counting on there being a time when that could happen without Bruce knowing about it. She would make it as clear as she possibly could that she had zero interest in him, and if he didn’t believe her, or if it was clear that he wasn’t going to go away, then she would go to Bruce and confess. She still hadn’t decided whether she’d confess the whole truth, or the half-truth, but she’d figure that out later. Either way, the thought of that sickened her, not just for what it would do to their marriage, but for how much it was going to crush him. “When in doubt, tell the truth” was something her mother used to say to her, and she knew that if the time came, she would have to do that. She’d made her decision and now it was out of her hands.
There was a strange wavering cry that came from the pond, followed by another, similar cry. She thought it was probably loons, even though she’d never heard one before. But somewhere in her past—or in a book she’d read—she’d heard that their cries were ghostlike. She watched the sliver of the pond that she could see. Its surface was glassy in the early morning light, and a hazy mist was rapidly dissipating.
The doors behind her opened and Bruce stepped out onto the veranda. “You’re up early,” he said.
“Temporarily up,” she said. “No guarantee I’m not going back to bed. Did you hear the loons?”
“No,” he said.
“I think they were loons. Either that or the pond is haunted.”
“What do you want to do for breakfast?” he asked.
“Can we have it brought here? Scrambled eggs on toast?”
“Sounds perfect. Oh, is that one?”
The loons had made their cries again.
“Yep,” Abigail said, and for a brief moment she almost turned and told him everything, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She knew that once the words were out, the rest of their lives would instantly change. She didn’t want to lose him, and she didn’t want to hurt him.
“I’ll order breakfast,” Bruce said, and went back into the bunk, closing the doors behind him.
CHAPTER 13
After they’d eaten, Abigail asked Bruce if he wanted to go swimming at the pool.
“I was thinking of taking a walk around the island,” he said.
“Okay,” she said. “Do you want to meet for lunch?”
“Sure,” he said. “If we don’t see each other back here, then lunch at one-ish in the lodge?”
She agreed, thinking it felt a little strange that they were splitting up, but she was actually glad for the opportunity to be alone. It would give her a chance to find Scottie, or a chance for him to find her, and to talk.
She’d packed both a one-piece and a bikini but put on the dark red one-piece. She didn’t know exactly what the indoor pool would look like, but she was hoping for swimming lanes. It would feel good to burn some energy.
She put jeans and a sweater on over her bathing suit, then kissed Bruce goodbye and walked up the path toward the lodge. She felt exposed, the blank eyes of the bunks all watching her. There was a man up ahead, exiting the lodge and making his way down toward the pond, and she thought for one stomach-tightening moment that it was Scottie, but he turned