Page 57 of Dearly Departed

“We’re taking care of it,” the doctor says.

“Okay. Thank you. That’s really kind of you.”

She smiles. “You’re welcome.”

I’m fine after that. Extremely calm. No more chest pain. I imagine tucking all my worry into a hidden compartment in my bag and leaving it there.

Eventually, Jacob falls asleep.

Not long after, there’s a soft knock at the door. Cancer gestures me out into the hall.

“Everything going okay?” he asks.

“Probably.” I am incredibly zen, except for the panic folded into a secret pocket in my imaginary bag.

“Good, good. Just wanted to go over a few things with you. First, this base has to remain a complete secret from everyone. I’m talking about your family, your best friend, your dog⁠—”

“I don’t have a dog. My brother-in-law has a bird, though.”

“The bird can’t know.”

“Okay. I won’t tell the bird.”

“What kind of bird is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s one of those birds that looks like a snowball.”

Cancer considers this.

“Does the kind of bird make a difference? Because⁠—”

“No,” he says quickly. “It doesn’t. The bird can’t know. Nobody can know.”

He keeps listing people who can’t know about the island, or the boat, or his heroic rescue until I hold up a hand.

“Listen. My husband is rich. I’m going to be rich soon. I won’t say anything about any of this. I just want to go home.”

He searches my eyes, then nods. “Anything you need from the island?”

“No, I don’t—oh! Jacob’s bag. He left it in the cabin. Some of my stuff is in there, too. My bag got thrown in the ocean. It’s probably long gone.”

“We’ll see what we can do.”

Cancer strides away.

“Wait,” I call after him. “What about Raymond Harris?”

He stops. “Who’s Raymond Harris?”

“The man on the beach. The…deceased one.”

“Buried.”

“You buried him?”

“Not me personally.”

“Is there…” I don’t know. I don’t know! “…paperwork?”