“No, they don’t,” Johnny grinned. “No, they don’t. What are you doing here?”

“Me? What are you doing here?” Annie asked with a giggle.

“Been out this way for a decade now. Got a nice, comfy government job that I retired from. Now I just spend my days saving damsels in distress. Tell me, what are you doing here?”

“Johnny, I . . .” and Annie couldn’t find the words she wanted. “I came here to be close to my boy.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Johnny. “Tell me what really happened.”

“The rape. The rape happened. And then he was completely gone from me. Oh, he had left long before the rape. He wasn’t anywhere near me for decades. Decades. But the rape was the last straw.”

Johnny reached his hand across the table and put it on hers. He squeezed it tight and nodded. “I know. I heard about the rape. I’m sorry, Annie. I’m sorry that happened to you, and I’m sorry for all the terrible things I said about you when we were younger. You never deserved it. You never did.”

Annie pulled her hand back from his and looked out at the street. Cyclists everywhere, the big new bridge looking shiny and strong, the water off in the distance.

“I lost him, Johnny. I lost him so long ago, and why did I ever think that I could be a preacher’s wife? Me of all the fucking people on this earth being a preacher’s wife. How dumb was I?

“But we had our boy, and he kept us together for all those years, and then he left. And I don’t know what happened to me. I got restless. I got lonelier. I got tired of the silence in my own house. I never should have gone out that night. Just like I should not have gone out tonight. It was happening all over again . . . thank god for you. Thank god for you appearing and saving me. I was so terrified.”

Johnny raised his wineglass and smiled. “To you Annie Mukluk. A survivor.”

Annie smiled back and felt a certain peace pass over her body. She was in a brief pocket of comfort. She was with one of her own.

Annie now knew two people on this island, her boy and Johnny, but she didn’t want to burden them. She didn’t want to seem needy for anything, although she longed for their company. She longed to talk to them. To go out somewhere with them. But she kept to herself. Kept to her daily walks. Kept to taking pictures of all the odd shops and different things she found on that island, like the community book exchanges—things that looked like bird houses but were packed with books. She read every book that was placed in the exchange close to her home and put it back when she was done.