“Hey, Greg!” I call out.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as I approach.

“I wanted a chat in private.”

“There’s a surprise.”

“Please listen to me, Greg. My baby is related to Nina’s children, he’s their half brother. Please don’t humiliate her memory in public. For my sake and Jack’s, if not hers. I understand that you’re angry.”

He shrugs. “Marie, I don’t have anything against you personally, but I’ll do whatever I feel is right. Please don’t tell me that you came all the way out here just to try to make me change my mind? I’m a man of my word.”

“Can we at least talk a bit more?”

He shrugs, as if my feelings are inconsequential, and picks up a rod. He points to the branch I’d almost forgotten I was still clutching.

“Planning on tying a piece of string to the end of that and joining me in a spot of fishing?” he says, as if he thinks it is some sort of suitable response.

He sits down on his stool again, picks up his rod all the while chuckling—actually laughing to himself—as if my feelings and fears are inconsequential.

I don’t know at what point I make the decision, or if I ever actually consciously do, because something possesses me, propels me forward. A rush of rage floods as I recall all the hours of angst, and each terrifying moment hurtles back in short, sharp, brutally clear images. I rerun through all the fear he’s caused and all that he can make me lose.

I’m convinced that I must’ve have gained Nina’s strength, too, because I lift the branch up above my head.

He swings round and looks up at me, his expression a picture of uncomprehending horror as he topples to the side when the branch strikes his right cheek. The fallen camping stool lands and rests against his calves. A pair of small, black binoculars drops into the water with a plop.

Greg doesn’t reach out for them—he doesn’t do anything. He just lies there, silent. His face is tilted away from me. I lean over slightly to examine him closer. I force myself to look, to see if he’s hit his head on something, but there is no obvious rock or stone and without me moving him to check, I can’t tell.

Oh my God. This isn’t right. Yes, I’m angry but I only wanted to give him a fright and perhaps demonstrate how desperate and helpless I’m feeling. Of course, there’s no way he could have appreciated just how much I’ve been through to have a child of my own and attain the family life I now have.

My legs start shaking uncontrollably; I fear I might collapse. Jack is a young, helpless baby. I’ve wanted him for so long. What if I’m arrested? Sent to prison? I couldn’t bear being separated from Jack. Stupid, I’ve been so stupid.

“Greg! Greg! Get up! You’re giving me a fright. I’m sorry.”