Inglath Cooper - A Year And A Day

A stretch of silence and then she replied, “Only one.”

When she failed to ask the same question of him, he volunteered the information anyway. “I made one or two, despite my cynicism. Think you’ll stick with yours?”

She looked back out into the darkness, her face set, unsmiling. “Yes,” she said.

A door opened behind them. Laughter flowed out from the party into the night. Audrey took a startled step farther into the shadows.

A man crossed the terrace, stopped by one of the carriage lights and lit a cigarette.

“Are you all right?” Nicholas asked.

“Yes. Thank you. But I have to go,” she said.

He couldn’t explain the disappointment he felt. There was nothing logical about the instant connection he had with this woman. He knew nothing about her, and yet, inexplicably, he wanted to know everything there was to know.

She stepped around him and ran back up the stairs.

He lifted a hand. “Wait!”

But she kept going. And did not look back.

THE RIDE HOME was silent.

But in the back of the limousine, the air hung thick as a Georgia summer afternoon before a storm. Audrey kept her face averted, staring out the window at the passing night.

How easy it would be just to open the door and throw herself onto the pavement. Coward’s way out, though. That would only be ending her own misery.

And if it could have been as simple as that, she might have done so long ago.

But there was Sammy.

When the car glided to a stop at the front of the house, the driver opened the back door. Jonathan slid out and waited for Audrey to follow.

“Good night, Thomas,” Jonathan said.

“’Night, Mr. Colby. Mrs. Colby.”

“Good night.” Audrey headed for the front door without waiting for Jonathan. He was right behind her. She tried to stick her key in the lock, but he jerked it from her hand, stabbing it inside the hole and opening the door with a brutal shove.

Marsha Lynch, the sitter, appeared in the hallway, one hand to her throat. “Oh. Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Colby. I wasn’t sure that was you at first.”

Audrey forced a smile. “Is everything all right, Marsha?”

“Just fine. He’s been asleep for hours.”

Jonathan pulled out his wallet, paid the girl, his abrupt “Good night,” a clear dismissal.

“Call me anytime,” Marsha said, her face stiff with uncertainty. She left then, closing the heavy front door behind her.

Jonathan dropped his keys on the entrance table with a clatter that shook Audrey’s nerves and rang out in the otherwise silent house.

“Jonathan, please,” she said in a quiet voice. “Sammy’s—”

“Sammy!” he exploded. “Can you think about anything besides Sammy?” He said the boy’s name with a sneer. He’d always insisted that she call him Samuel. It infuriated him when Audrey slipped and called her son by the name she preferred. Jonathan moved toward the living room, jerking his overcoat off and throwing it across the back of the leather couch.

Audrey stood in the foyer for several seconds, her eyes closed, a knot in her stomach. She headed for the stairs then. This could still be avoided. If she just left him alone, maybe it would blow over. She repeated the same rationalizations she always did, even though these episodes were like a storm moving in from the sea. She could do nothing but wait out its arrival.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he said, his voice louder now. If she ran upstairs, he would follow, knock down the door, if necessary. And then Sammy would wake up…

She stopped with one hand on the rail, then turned and made her way back to the living room, each step a force of will.

She paused in the doorway. “Jonathan, let’s just go to bed. I’m tired, and—”

“Was your little meeting on the terrace so exhausting?” He stood behind the wet bar, pouring scotch into a glass, his voice eerily calm.

She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He took a swallow of the liquor, added another shot from the decanter and crossed the room, the click of his shoes on the wood floor menacing. “I’m not in the mood for games, Audrey.”

“I went out for some fresh air. That’s all.”

“Fresh air,” he said, sarcasm tainting the words. “And Webster’s new partner just happened to be out there at the same time.”

Audrey hesitated, her mind racing for an answer that would defuse the situation. But there was no answer. It wouldn’t matter what she said. She tried for a note of reason. “He came outside for a couple of minutes. He introduced himself and told me he would be working with you. That’s all.”

Jonathan moved closer, his eyes narrowed. “I’m aware of how long you were out there.”

She met the hard look in his eyes, defiance flaring inside her. How? The view from Laura’s room? She pressed her lips together to keep from asking the questions.

“Why would you think he’d look at you, anyway?” His eyes scanned the length of her body. “I was embarrassed to be seen with you. There wasn’t a woman there who didn’t look better than you tonight. My wife. When are you ever going to develop any taste? You’re not in that backwoods family of yours anymore.”

She started to remind him he had picked out her dress, but he grabbed her arm and jerked her to him. Her shoulder wrenched at the socket. She bit back a gasp of pain. “Jonathan, stop!”

“It stops when I say it stops.” With the back of his hand, he slapped her across the neck. Pain shot through her left side. Excruciating. Reverberating. She moaned. But before she could right herself, he grabbed her and flung her backward across the couch. She hit the hardwood floor on the other side, her shoulder taking the brunt of her weight. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Sammy. Think about Sammy. He was upstairs. Please don’t come down. Please.

Jonathan was in front of her then, pulling her up and flinging her against the wall behind him. She hit it with the same shoulder. But this time, she couldn’t hold back the half-scream of anguish. She slumped to the floor where she put her head between her knees and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, praying for oblivion.

“This wouldn’t have to happen if you would just listen to me. How many times have I told you that? And Samuel. He’s just like you. Neither of you ever listen to anything I say.”

Much to her shame, she was crying now. She’d vowed she wouldn’t cry anymore. Crying was weak. Gave him what he wanted.

He kicked her then, a hard fierce punt to her left thigh. She kept her arms wrapped around her knees, her head between her legs, praying for the end of it. I can live through this. One more time. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, please make him stop. Please don’t make me leave my son alone.

Pleeeassse.

The word echoed once through her throbbing head, and then nothing.

THE CONFETTI had barely settled to the floor when Nicholas thanked the Websters for their hospitality and then ducked out.

He waited while the valet got his car, then pulled out of the driveway a little too fast in an attempt to accelerate past his preoccupation with Audrey Colby.

Two miles down West Paces Ferry, he let up on the gas, one elbow on the windowsill. What was it about her that had him so rattled? Her desire to be left alone could not have been more clear. And yet out on that terrace, he hadn’t been able to make himself walk away. He still felt as if everything inside him had been altered by the few words of conversation they’d had, shaken up to the point that all the pieces of who he had been didn’t fit back in their old places.

It was the look in her eyes. A look he’d seen too many times in the eyes of people who had lost a loved one to a senseless crime. A glimpse into the soul of someone who’s been broken.