You stand outside on the patio, the door shut tight to avoid letting the heat out and the thick blue curtain fallen into place, looking out at the grey skies, choppy seas and a unadulterated blanket of snow from where you stand to the edge of the trees. A smile cracks across your face, the delighted happy smile that your wife likes, as you wonder if Christmas has come early. That's why it was so cold this morning. You were a little worried when you woke up this morning and the temperate seemed to have dropped ten degrees overnight. Not that it bothered either of you then, snuggled up together with the blankets, duvet and each other's body for warmth. It was only when you came downstairs to get the fire going that you decided it was too cold to open the curtains and disturb the layer of warm air they were holding in. Suddenly a domestic day sounded much better than locking Abby up briefly and heading back to the mainland to get a turkey and the trimmings for dinner in four days' time, as well as the rest of the food you so badly need. At least you bought her gifts a few weeks ago and they're hidden in the store room, along with a lot of other things you think it best she not handle. Like your boarding knife, the guns and ammo and a lovely longbow with arrows you stole from another abandoned house. She still thinks you're not getting her anything. As if you'd give her a bad Christmas.
You lift one foot and see the imprint below. The pure blanket of snow now has two footprints in it. You consider stepping back inside and telling Abby that there's enough firewood in the house to last you at least another two days without you crushing the layer of crystalline white all the way to the shed. She wouldn't do it. She won't go near the building, whatever you do. You cleaned the blood up and everything. And bought her her favourite perfume to say sorry for striking her. Although that really wasn't your fault, either time. She provoked you and she hasn't done it again since.
You wonder what it was like for her as a young girl. Did it snow in the winter then too? It must have, surely. Spending only summers with her, your bliss ending when the liars pretending to be your parents took you away from your soulmate each year, you never got to spend Christmas with her. Now you can. You can do anything you like with her now nothing and no one is in the way. You're perfect together and society's stupid rules shouldn't affect you. Here you can be husband and wife and no one will object. Here you'll raise the child she's giving you. Here you can play in the snow together like you should have done twenty years ago.
Stepping back inside and closing the door to hide her view, you see your wife clearing up from breakfast, her body wrapped up warmly in a dressing gown and her hair tucked back behind her ears, framing her beautiful pale face. She smiles when she notices you – how she loves you! – and you can't help but smile back. You take a closer look at her, wearing her slippers and robe and what you're sure is nothing underneath it. She can't come out like that. But you want the snow to be a surprise. Your plan is perfect and you rush past her and turn to go upstairs. But no – she looks so cute you have to go back to steal a few kisses from her soft lips. She presses them back against yours, sweet gentle kisses tasting of coffee. What you'd do without her kisses is something you can't bear to think about.
Wait here. Don't move.
It takes only a few seconds to run into your bedroom, grab the thin scarf from the table and run back. She gasps when you loop it over her eyes and puts the mugs she was holding back down on the table. She loves it when you do this. In some respects, you completely underestimated your wife. You'll probably disappoint her now, leading her up to your bedroom and not making love to her. But you made love to her enough times this morning, having woken up with her body curled around you, pressed into yours, comfortable in your arms with her hair tickling your skin and her lips mere inches from yours. You really can't help yourself sometimes.
She genuinely can't see you walk close to her as she shrugs the robe off her shoulders, revealing her slim perfect body with the small bump forming between her hips. Your child. Growing inside Abby. You know you're having a son. There's no way you can justify it and neither of you will be able to until you get her to a clinic on the mainland, but you can just tell. A boy you'll bring up to be just like you. A boy you'll teach how to swim, to fish, to hunt. A boy your own father would be proud of. And you'll be a far better parent to him than everyone was to you. Your outstretched hand moves outwards but Abby can't see it stop a few inches from her waist, willing yourself not to delay the snow any longer by embracing her. How confused she looked when you told her to get dressed! You can't wait to see her face when you take the blindfold off and she sees how wonderful your island looks. It's a Christmas present come early for both of you, although you know it can't last because you're not sailing thirty-seven miles to get a turkey in this weather.
Having grabbed coat, hat, scarf and gloves from the stand in the hallway, you walk her outside and position her carefully on the patio so she doesn't slip and shut the door behind her. She still looks utterly bewildered; she's always been a little slow to catch on. A funny idea strikes you and you walk quietly away from her before bending down to scoop up and compact a handful of powdery snow. A snowball. Your aim is a little off and you hit the side of her face rather than her shoulder but it doesn't matter after she takes the blindfold off and her eyes glitter with happiness.
It snowed!
Oh!
Come on! We're gonna build snowmen! It'll be like when you were a kid. You built snowmen, didn't you? I always wanted to do that with you. We'll make two. A couple. And we can put scarves on them and find little stones for eyes and mouths. It'll be fun!
Her hand fits into yours as you walk side by side through the quiet forest. Aside from muted animal noises, it's silent. You can't remember ever seeing her this happy before. Her smile doesn't usually stretch that far across her face and you have to stop every few minutes to kiss her as you follow the familiar but unfamiliar-looking path up to the fields. Occasionally small clumps of snow fall to the forest floor as the wind knocks it off the tall branches surrounding you. So much snow. You'll find some fallen branches later for arms for your snowmen so they can hold hands like you and Abby are now. You've never wanted anything more than to be with this woman alone on this island. Life is exactly how you imagined it.
Yes I know. Fluff. And it's not the piece I said I'd write either. But there's early snow in the UK and I wanted to come up with a series of events that I could narrate from both POVs. Enjoy it anyway.
It's occurred to me that I need a name for this universe. It's just called "Captivity". This is set four days before "Gifts".