Please, God.
The plane would come tomorrow morning and she would be on it.
And once she was back on the mainland, she’d have some semblance of control again, and she could figure out what to do about the Bruce situation. It was a situation now, wasn’t it? The words he’d said to her—spoiled bitch—and the way he’d said them, with what sounded like genuine hatred in his voice, had not left Abigail’s head all morning. And he certainly had something to do with the cover-up of whatever had happened to Jill. The more she thought about him, the more she realized that she’d made a huge mistake getting married to a man she didn’t know all that well. He was a stranger, after all, and she’d been blinded because he seemed kind, and old-fashioned, and generous.
And rich, Abigail, don’t forget that.
Yes, and rich. There would be a time for Abigail to try to understand just how much that had played into her decision, but now wasn’t the time.
And maybe there is a good explanation? Maybe Bruce isn’t part of it?
Spoiled bitch.
Abigail stood. As much as she wouldn’t have minded staying longer in the woods, alone, she had made a plan and it was time to enact it.
The bunk was empty. It was what Abigail had been hoping for. She knew that she’d eventually have to face Bruce, but she didn’t mind putting it off.
She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a container of fruit salad, plus the plate of cheese and meats that had been sitting there since they’d arrived. Then she grabbed a raspberry lime seltzer, taking a long swig directly from the bottle. She ate all the cheese that was on the plate, then picked the fruit she liked from the salad and ate that, too. After changing into pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, she crawled into bed, putting the seltzer bottle next to her. When Bruce came home, she’d just tell him she wasn’t feeling well and that she wanted to stay in the bunk until the plane was on its way.
She couldn’t sleep, so she propped herself on two pillows and watched as an oblong of light coming from the west-facing window worked its way across the duvet cover. She got out of bed, cracked the door, and peered around its edge so that she could see up to the lodge, wanting to make sure that Bruce wasn’t coming down the slope toward the bunk. She didn’t see anyone, so she shut the door and went to the closet that Bruce was using. He’d hung his clothes, but she couldn’t immediately see where he’d put his empty travel bag. She looked on the shelf at the top of the closet, but it wasn’t there, and then she found it on the floor of the closet, pushed toward the back. The closet was much larger than she’d thought possible; it was deep, and there was an alcove on the side with extra shelves. Abigail knelt, unzipped the leather bag, and ran her hands along the inside. His cell phone was there, and she pulled it out, turning it on. He’d changed his backdrop picture to one of the photographs from the wedding, a candid shot, both of them laughing on the dance floor. It felt like a moment that had happened in a different lifetime. She checked to see if the phone was locked, and it was. She’d watched him punch in his four-digit passcode a few times, but she couldn’t remember it now. Besides, what was the point of unlocking his phone when there was no service on the island?
She put the phone back in the bag and felt around for anything else in the zipped-up side pockets. There was one paperback book, something academic called Hierarchy in the Forest. Abigail thumbed through the pages. There was an inscription inside the front cover:
To Bruce,
Good stuff here—
Your brother, Chip
Abigail assumed that was Chip Ramsay. After all, how many Chips did Bruce know? Not that it meant much to her. The subtitle was The Evolution of Egalitarian Behavior. She put the book back.
There were more items in the other interior pocket. An engraved lighter, an unopened package of Altoids, and an ornate silver ring of a man’s face constructed of leaves, just like the face she’d seen on the sign in the woods. She stared at it, mesmerized and disturbed. The words “green man” popped into her head. She could picture a sign hanging in front of a bar somewhere, or maybe it was a pub sign from the trip she’d taken with Ben to England after they’d graduated from college. She couldn’t quite put it all together, except that she now knew for sure that whatever was happening here at Quoddy Resort was tied in with her husband. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he owned a ring—a ring he kept hidden from her—that had the same image on it as the sign leading to that clearing in the woods.
She returned the ring to its pocket in the travel bag and slid the bag back into the closet, careful to make sure it looked like it hadn’t been disturbed. Whatever the ring meant, Abigail didn’t want to spend the next eighteen hours alone in the bunk with Bruce. She didn’t know where else she could go, but she didn’t want to be here. She changed back into jeans and a sweater, looked through the window to see if she could spot him on the lawn, but it was empty. Even the archery targets had been taken down. A sudden horrible feeling passed through Abigail, more like an image, actually. That all of them—everyone here at the resort—were up at the lodge meeting to discuss what to do about Abigail. That’s why it was so quiet outside, even on this beautiful day.
Her against them.
A part of her wanted to pack up as much food and water as she could carry and run into the woods, wait there. But wait there for what? For the plane? For some sort of rescue operation?
Movement caught her eye and Abigail spotted Eric, who’d probably just emerged from his own bunk, cutting across the lawn. Without thinking, she darted outside and went to him. As strange as it was, he was possibly a friend, maybe the only friend she had here.
“Eric,” she half shouted as she closed in on him.
He stopped and turned. “Hey,” he said.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure. I was just heading up to get some lunch. Do you want to join me?”
“Can we go to your bunk, actually? I know that sounds … It’s not what it sounds like.”
“Okay. Sure.”
Together they walked back to his bunk. Eric was quiet, and she wondered what he was thinking. She hoped he wasn’t thinking that she’d changed her mind about their relationship, but that was the least of her worries right now. They reached the door, and he held it open for her. Inside, it was laid out differently than her and Bruce’s bunk, but with the same luxury feel. The walls were stained a darker brown, and there was a moose head mounted on the wall above the bed.
“Can I get you anything?” Eric asked, as Abigail sat on the dark green sofa near the unlit fireplace.
“No, I’m fine.”
“What’s going on?” He perched on the edge of a leather club chair facing her. He wore jeans and a faded Ween T-shirt, and there was something about his outfit, so casual, almost collegiate, that reassured Abigail. She had a brief, alarming flash of the two of them together in California, her sliding his jeans down his narrow hips.
“Remember when we were talking in the woods this morning?” she began.
“Uh-huh.”
“And you said that you thought there was something strange about this island, something off.”
“Yeah.”
“Because there was no way it was a real business, right? That’s what you said.”
Eric nodded.
“Was there anything else? Anything else that you think is strange about this place? Or was it just that?”
He hesitated, and Abigail could tell that he was thinking, trying to decide what to say to her exactly.
“What is it?” she said.
“Sorry, I’m thinking. Why are you asking me these questions? What happened?”
“Well, for one, they’re not letting me off this island.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told Bruce I wanted to leave today, and he said that he’d arrange a plane to get us, but now he’s saying it won’t come until tomorrow morning.”
“Uh-huh,” Eric said, and she tried to read his expression.
“So I asked
to use the phones that are here, the landlines in the lodge. I just thought that maybe I could make my own arrangements with another airline, or at the very least I could talk with my friend and she could look into it.”
“And what happened?”
“The phones are out. They’re not working.”
“It’s suspicious,” he said.
“Are you just saying that, or do you agree with me? I need to know. I think I’m going insane here.”
He pressed the heels of his hands against his knees and raised his shoulders, then after a moment said, “I’m going to tell you something I’m not supposed to tell you. It might have something to do with what’s happening here and it might not, but either way I think you need to hear it.”
“What is it?”
He stood nervously. “Ah, Jesus. So what I’m about to tell you will make you hate me, and that’s the last thing I want, but it’s the right thing to do.”
“Seriously, what is it?”
“Okay. Just please let me tell the whole story before you judge. Okay?”
“Sure. Okay. Whatever.”
“So when we met at the vineyard in California, it wasn’t an accident. I was paid to meet you.”
CHAPTER 22
The sun must have gone behind a cloud, because the interior of the bunk dimmed for a moment, then returned to normal.
“What?” Abigail said.
“I was paid. To meet you.” Eric’s whole body was tense, but he was looking directly at her.
“Who … who paid you?” Abigail asked.
“I don’t know exactly. I mean, I know. It was through my agent in San Francisco. I have an acting agent, even though he obviously doesn’t get me work that often. But he told me that someone had seen my headshot and wanted to know if I was available for a job that wasn’t exactly an acting job. It was good money, a lot of money, so I agreed to at least hear about it. I didn’t talk directly with whoever was hiring me—it all went through my agent.”
“And it had to do with me?”
“Yes,” he said. “I was told who you were, and where you would be on the weekend we met. They would book a room for me at the same hotel, and my job was to try and get to know you, and to try …”
“And to try to sleep with me,” Abigail said, her voice trembling.
Eric took a breath through his nostrils, his lips pursed. “Yes. Basically, that was it. I mean, I wasn’t told I had to sleep with you or anything. I was just told that my job was to meet you, try and get to know you, and … seduce you. Then I was supposed to report back exactly what had happened. That was emphasized by the client, apparently. They wanted to know exactly what transpired.”
“Jesus,” Abigail said, and she couldn’t think of anything else to say for a moment. Her mind was spinning, and her stomach hurt.
“I know,” Eric said.
“It must have been … Do you think it was Bruce?” Abigail said. “I mean, of course it was Bruce. He was testing me. Jesus.”
“I really don’t know,” Eric said. “That was part of the deal, my not knowing. I never met the client. I only reported back to my agent.”
“And you weren’t told why you were doing this?” Abigail said, feeling a flush of anger. “You didn’t think to ask why you were being tasked with trying to fuck a complete stranger.”
“I did think to ask. I did ask, actually,” Eric said. “I just wasn’t told, and, obviously, I feel incredibly guilty that I took the job. There’s no excuse, but I needed the money. I know that’s not good enough. I know that’s not really a reason. And if I’m completely honest, I was intrigued.”
“Yeah, I can imagine.”
“No, hear me out. They showed me a picture of you, so I’d be able to recognize you, obviously.”
“What was the picture from? Where’d they get it?”
“They showed me your Facebook page.”
“Uh-huh,” Abigail said.
“And even just looking at it, I felt something … I was attracted to you. Look, I know it’s creepy, but I did.”
“Did they just show you this picture? Did they tell you things about me? I mean, what else did they know?”
“They told me you’d like my acting background because your parents ran a theater. They said you liked old movies. They said you were funny. That’s about it.”
“Did they tell you my favorite poet was Poe?”
He paused, and Abigail could tell he was thinking about lying. “Yes,” he said. “They did.”
Abigail squeezed both her hands into fists and clenched her jaw. She let out a partial scream.
“I know, I know, I know,” Eric said. “I know how you must feel.”
“You don’t,” she said. “Trust me on that.”
“Okay, I don’t.”
Abigail took a breath, told herself that she could feel rage later. Right now she needed to hear the full story. “So you memorized an Edgar Allan Poe poem in case I brought it up?”
“Yes. I mean, I knew that poem already, if that means anything. But I brushed up. I know it sounds terrible. It is terrible.”
“And they never said why you were being asked to do this?”
“I asked, but my agent didn’t say. When I was told that it was a bachelorette party, then, obviously, I guessed.”
“You guessed that you’d been hired by my fiancé to see if I’d cheat on him?”
“Yes, it crossed my mind.”
“And you did it anyway.”
Eric, already perched on the edge of the upholstered chair, moved forward another half inch. “Listen,” he said. “You don’t have to remind me that what I did was despicable. I know that what I did was despicable. I knew it when I took the job, and while I was doing it, and afterwards. I’m trying to help you out now because I agree with you, something fucked up is happening here, and I think it probably has something to do with me, with what happened that night. But I’m on your side now.”
“And is that why you came here? Because you were worried something bad might happen?”
“It occurred to me, of course. I mean, if what I was doing was helping your groom run a fidelity test, then you failed, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Abigail said.
“So I was surprised when I saw that the wedding was still happening. So, yes, part of my actions were because I was worried about you, but, really, the truth is, the other truth is, I really did fall for you that night. Or maybe it’s just transference or obsession, I don’t know. You do remind me of my wife who died, but that’s not all of it. And maybe it had something to do with the guilt I had about what I was doing to you. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. It was torture, and so I decided to come to New York to look for you, find a way to convince you that you needed to be with me.”
“What about the wedding?” Abigail said.
“What about it?”
“You were there, weren’t you? I think I saw you at the end of the night.”
He let a breath out. “Okay, yeah. I wasn’t going to approach you or anything. It’s just … I don’t know what I thought. I thought something might happen, because at this point it wasn’t just about you and me, it was also about the man you married. As you said, he gave you a test.”
“And I didn’t pass,” she said.
Eric smiled tightly. “No,” he said.
“Did it occur to you that if Bruce was behind the whole thing, he might know who you were?” she asked.
“That’s why I used a fake name. I came up with Scott Baumgart because of Scottie, of course, and Baumgart was my mother’s maiden name. I was still paranoid that your husband would know who I was. It was partly why I talked with him on the beach. I needed to know if he recognized me, and I don’t think he did. Then you went and used my real name.”
“That’s why you were freaked out. I could tell.”
“Yes, I was shocked you knew my real name, but I also realized that if Bruce hired me, he might know it as well. I don’t know if it matters now.”
/>
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re clearly being punished, or you’re about to be punished for what happened in California. That’s why I’m telling you about this, because I think it has to do with what’s going on here.”
“What does it have to do with Jill Greenly and what happened to her?”
“I don’t know. She’s on her honeymoon, right? Maybe she failed some sort of test like you did.”
Abigail nodded. “We talked some, Jill and I. There was an old boyfriend of hers here, and she was freaked out about it. It was strange because it was similar to my situation. I mean, what are the chances that there are two honeymooning brides at a resort—the only two honeymooning brides—and each of them has someone they’ve slept with show up unexpectedly?”
“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.”
Every Vow You Break Page 16
