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ORIGINAL COPY

GRADY

I wait for Abby to come back, my head too loud with unanswered questions. There are so many things I miss about my wife. Strange things. I miss the way she danced around the kitchen when she cooked. I miss her dark sense of humor and the way she would never apologize even when she was wrong. I miss waking up next to her. I miss how she said “I hope you die in your sleep” every night before we went to bed, and how I would say it back because it was our way of saying “I love you.” I miss everything about who she was and who we were but now I wonder if I ever really knew her at all. This woman isn’t like the Abby I knew, she’s more like an original copy of the woman I loved.

“Was the baby I heard crying at The Croft and saw in the church yours?” I ask as soon as she walks back into the room.

“Yes. Holly is my daughter.”

“But she isn’t mine?” I already know that she can’t be, but when Abby confirms it by shaking her head I still feel a strange sense of loss. I do my best to compose myself. “And are you really married to a woman?”

“Legally no—I’m still married to you—but in my heart the answer is yes. I met Travers here on Amberly and I love her very much.”

She waits for that news to sink in, but I’m not sure it ever will.

“Why did you pretend not to know me at the pottery? Was it you I saw on the ferry the day I arrived? Why are you doing this to me? Why am I here?”

“You’re here to write a new book and now you have.”

I hear the familiar crackle of a walkie-talkie. Abby takes it out of her pocket, places it on the table, and stares at it before looking back at me.

“Time is running out, Grady.”

“What does that mean?” She doesn’t answer. “You’ve clearly lost your mind. This is a cult. I don’t understand what is going on here—you’re all crazy—but I demand to leave.”

“You can demand whatever you want, but they won’t let you go. And men aren’t allowed to live on this island.”

“You said that already. Women only, so I’ll pack my bags—”

“I don’t think you’ve understood. Men aren’t allowed to live on this island.” The expression on my wife’s face is one I’ve never seen her wear before, and it turns my whole body icy cold. “Have you seen the cemetery behind Saint Lucy’s? I think it’s rather lovely. I’ve always thought that a graveyard was a great place to hide a body. A place where nobody would ever think to look.”

I can’t quite process what I am hearing. “I don’t understand—”

“I think you do. Why don’t we talk about what happened the night I disappeared. You do remember that night, don’t you?”

“Of course I remember,” I tell her. “I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I’ve missed you every day and every night since—”

“Then tell me why?” Abby interrupts.

“Why what?”

“Why you lay down in the road, in the dark, in the rain, wearing my red coat so that I presumed you were a woman. Why you waited for me to get out of the car, knowing I would always help someone in trouble. Why you grabbed me as soon as I was close enough, held a cloth soaked in chloroform over my mouth, then dressed me in my coat, dragged me to the edge of the road, and pushed me over a cliff. Why did you try to kill me, Grady?”