A Year And A Day. Inglath Cooper

her son and felt a stab of guilt for not telling her. But maybe that was Jonathan’s place.

      Mrs. Colby reached for the teapot, refilling her cup. “You’re welcome, dear. You’ve done an awfully good job for us. I hope you know we appreciate it.” She leaned forward to put the pot back on its tray. The neckline of her dress slipped aside, revealing an almost blackish bruise on her left shoulder. It was horrible looking, the worst bruise Audrey had ever seen.

      “Mrs. Colby,” she said, before she could stop herself. “What happened?”

      The older woman jumped, her cup clattering in its saucer. With her free hand, she hastily pulled the dress back in place, her expression closing like a door to a storm wind. “I slipped on the terrace steps the other day and landed on my shoulder. I’m afraid it left an awful bruise.”

      “Oh,” Audrey said. “Are you all right?”

      “Fine, dear. I’ve had worse falls than that,” she said. “Now, if that’s all, I’m sure Mary is wondering where you are.”

      “Yes, ma’am,” Audrey said, then went back to the kitchen. She didn’t think about the incident anymore until that night after she’d gone to bed. There was no reason not to believe Mrs. Colby. But something about the way she’d acted hadn’t felt right, as if she were trying to hide something. She thought of Mr. Colby, the few times she’d passed him in the house, his face stormy, as if he were always angry about something.

      For a moment, just a brief moment, Audrey wondered about their relationship, and whether Mr. Colby had anything to do with the bruise on his wife’s shoulder.

      But that was crazy. Jon Colby was a highly respected member of the community. And Mrs. Colby didn’t seem like the kind of woman to put up with something like that.

      Audrey put the questions from her mind and focused on her upcoming dinner with Jonathan.

      It was a mistake she would live to regret.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      SAMMY WAITED until his mother had left the room and closed the door before he opened his eyes. She’d sat there a long time, not saying anything, just brushing her hand back and forth across his hair.

      He’d kept his eyes shut so she would think he was asleep. If he’d opened them, he’d have started crying like a baby again. He didn’t want her to see him crying. And besides that, he couldn’t look at the ugly purple bruises on her neck. His mommy had the prettiest face in the world, and he hated his dad for hitting her.

      Beneath the covers, he pressed his palms together, the tips of his fingers touching his chin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he whispered into the darkness the words she had taught him when he was little. He usually asked God to watch over his grandma and grandpa Williams. And sometimes he wished for a brother or sister so that when he felt scared they could huddle in the dark together instead of just him here alone. But then he always felt guilty for that part because he didn’t want a little brother or sister who had to be scared all the time.

      Tonight he didn’t ask for either of those things. “Dear God, please take care of Mama. Don’t let Daddy hurt her anymore. Please make me strong so I can take care of her. Please make it fast, too, because I’m afraid he’ll hurt her really bad soon. Please, God. Amen.”

      Sammy turned his face into the pillow and pulled his knees up against his chest. He didn’t want to cry. He’d asked God to make him strong. But the tears came anyway because it would be a very long time before he would be big enough to take care of her.