Every Vow You Break(39)

“Okay,” he said, and searched around the rocky beach, coming up with a speckled green stone that was almost perfectly round.

Abigail carefully placed it on the top of her pile and stepped back, satisfied.

“When do you want to have kids?” Bruce suddenly said, and she turned to him, not able to keep the surprise off her face.

“Not this very moment,” she said, “if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No.” He laughed. “Sorry. I guess I just thought of kids because here we are playing on the beach.”

They’d discussed children before, but only in the vaguest terms, each saying that they did envision themselves one day having a family. “Let’s discuss it after our honeymoon, okay?”

Abigail said, smiling widely so that it didn’t sound harsh.

“Sure,” Bruce said.

The sun had climbed in the sky and they both stretched out along the rocks. They were protected from the ocean breeze and Abigail removed her fleece and put it under her head as a pillow.

The sun felt nice on the skin of her arms, and she lifted her shirt a little to expose her stomach. Bruce reached out a hand toward her, and she took it, intertwining their fingers. This is the moment, she told herself. This is the moment I should tell him about what’s happening. Just tell him everything, and it will be out of my hands.

But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was like standing on the edge of a high diving board and being unable to jump.

The sun dipped behind a single ragged cloud, and her skin instantly turned cold, then warm again when the cloud moved swiftly away. She was beginning to drift off. Under her eyelids multicolored dots swam and she chased them, moving her eyes, but the dots kept skirting just outside of her vision. Then she was lightly dreaming, walking along the second-floor balcony that hung in the lodge. The hall was filled with people, hundreds of them, and they were all silent, just staring up toward Abigail on the balcony. And even though they were looking right at her she wondered if they could see her, and if they did, would they come for her? Two people were speaking, two men, their voices coming from somewhere in the crowd, but then she was on the beach again, cold, because another cloud, bigger this time, had blocked the sun. She sat up, groggy.

Bruce was no longer next to her. He was standing about ten yards away, his hands on his hips, talking to someone whom Abigail couldn’t see because they were blocked by Bruce. Still, she knew it had to be Eric Newman, Scottie, whatever his name was, and that he’d followed them here. She didn’t move, and a snatch of conversation reached her—Bruce’s voice exclaiming enthusiastically about something. The sun came out again and she put her hand above her eyes. Bruce bent to pick up a stone and she saw that it really was Eric Newman, wearing a white fisherman sweater and staring directly at Abigail through a pair of wire-rimmed sunglasses.

Bruce must have caught Eric looking Abigail’s way, because he turned around and said, “You’re awake.”

“A little bit,” she replied, and thought of lying back down on the rocks, hoping Eric would just go away. But it was too late for that.

She stood up, her body stiff—how long had she been out?—pulled her fleece back on and walked toward the two men. Bruce was smiling, so it was obviously not a confrontation, at least not yet.

“Abigail, this is Scott. Scott, this is Abigail.”

The lenses of Eric’s sunglasses were not completely opaque, and she could see the intensity of his stare. “We met, didn’t we?”

she said to Eric, not reaching out with her hand. “First night I was here. In the lodge. You said I looked familiar.”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “That’s right.”

“I thought you said your name was Eric Newman, or am I confused?” She said it without thinking, but he stammered a little in his reply and Abigail felt a brief moment of triumph that she’d put him off balance.

“Uh, well, it’s Eric Scott Newman. I like to be called Scott.”

“Uh-huh,” Abigail said.

“Bruce just told me that you’re on your honeymoon,” he said, and there was a click in his voice as if his mouth was dry.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Abigail said. “Are you married?”

She caught Bruce turning his head toward her out of the corner of her eye, maybe hearing something in the tone of her voice.

Maybe she was going too far, taunting her stalker, but it felt good.

Her own words were filling her, and despite the presence of two tall men, she felt tall herself.

“I was,” Eric said. “But it didn’t work out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. So, you’re here alone, or are you with a group?”

“No, just here by myself. Heard some good things about this place.

Wanted to get out into nature. It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

“It’s goddamn life-changing.” That was Bruce, jumping back into the conversation. “Not just here.” He gestured with his hand toward the view. “But at Quoddy. Getting away from screens, from your phone, from everything.”

“Yeah, I love it. Makes me a little sad to be here alone, to tell you the truth.” He flicked his eyes toward Abigail.

“Look, man,” Bruce said. “I get you. If you want to join us for dinner, tonight or any—”