BEWARE THE WOMAN

An expecting couple’s whirlwind summer trip to reconnect with family unravels into something like a game of cat and mouse.

It’s no spoiler to say that Jed and Jacy’s trip to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula to visit Jed’s father, Dr. Ash, doesn’t go as expected. Jacy, as first-person narrator, is not afraid to drop hints that all is not well in Jed’s childhood home despite the happy reason for the trip—celebrating the newlyweds’ pregnancy news. After a lucid dream in a roadside motel, Jacy suggests “we could go back and just explain it wasn’t a good time. Not with the baby coming.” How different things could have been. Instead, the couple pushes on, their nervous excitement brimming. “It was tempting fate, though, wasn’t it? I see that now,” says Jacy, a couple days into the visit and growing more aware. Dr. Ash shows a touching interest in Jacy’s well-being, an eye always on her belly. It’s only natural that Jed’s mother would come up. She died in childbirth, Dr. Ash reveals. “Had Jed told me this and I’d missed it?” Jacy wonders. This is the first crack in the family facade, a chip in the paint that reveals layers of history underneath. The voice of Jacy’s own mother rings in her head—“Honey…we all marry strangers.” Lurking in the background is Mrs. Brandt, the Ash household’s longtime caretaker. Her formal nature suggests a strong loyalty to Jed’s family. “It’s hard enough seeing you,” Mrs. Brandt says. “Pregnant, fulsome. Fecund, ripening.” This ability to twist a good thing inside out until it feels shameful is classic Abbott. Jacy’s belly is suddenly a trigger, the inevitability of birth like a bomb waiting to go off. Unease turns to discomfort turns to fear when Jacy wakes up bleeding one morning, and suddenly her body no longer feels like her own. Jacy wants to leave, but Dr. Ash wants her to do what’s best for the baby. Who gets to decide? And what about Jed? Compared to Jacy, Jed reads like a ghost of a person, flat on the page. But maybe that’s the point given this is Jacy’s story to tell. Abbott masterfully uses the pretext of a pregnant woman’s heightened senses—“I could smell everything now…even the carpet glue, the wood paste in the staircase post”—to build a claustrophobic atmosphere of mistrust and insecurity reminiscent of Get Out. You’re sure to get chills.

An unsettling, nightmare-inducing morsel from a master of suspense.