Inglath Cooper - A Year And A Day

Sammy cried quietly, his chest shaking. She closed her eyes and pressed his face to her shoulder, soothing him with her voice and her hands.

“I thought you were dead,” he finally managed to say. “I saw you against the wall, and I thought—”

Audrey’s eyes welled with tears. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m all right. Shh.”

“Why does he hurt you, Mommy?” Sammy asked, his voice breaking at the end.

Audrey drew back and brushed his hair away from his face, gently rubbing the tears from his cheek with her thumb. “Sammy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Her son, her precious son, looked up at her with fear and anguish in his eyes. For that, Audrey hated herself most of all.

Despite the pain grabbing at her, she walked with him up the stairs, her arm around his shoulders, tucking him to her side.

In his room, she helped him into bed, smoothing a hand over his fine hair. Sitting there beside the son she loved more than she would ever have believed it possible to love, Audrey thought of what a different life she had once imagined for herself, for the children she might have. How had things turned out this way?

The truth? She had never seen it coming.

AS A SENIOR in high school, Audrey took a job with the Colbys, the most affluent family in Lanier, Georgia. They could trace their bloodlines to the earliest records in the courthouse, and Martha Colby took great pride in running her home in much the same way her husband’s ancestors had. Even though Audrey had originally been hired to work two evenings a week and every Saturday, her hours had continued to increase when one of the housekeepers had to leave.

Audrey didn’t mind working extra. While she liked her actual classes, she didn’t enjoy the social aspects of school. Up until junior high, she had liked everything about it and had looked forward to running track.

But then her body had started to change, and along with it, the rest of her life as well. In her freshman year, her bra size went from 34 A to 36 C. At five-three, Audrey was small-framed, petite even, and the change was more than noticeable. Suddenly, boys treated her differently. She hated the look in their eyes, detested the snickers that followed her down the hall. But worst of all were the nicknames she heard bandied about behind her back, the suggestive remarks the boys made when she walked by. One day, she’d gone into biology class and found one of those nicknames carved into the top of the desk.

She’d left the class and called her mom to come and get her, claiming she had a stomachache. She’d spent the rest of the afternoon curled up on her bed, humiliated.

Her mother came into her room, smoothing a hand over her hair. “What is it, honey? What’s wrong?”

Audrey turned over, unwelcome tears welling in her eyes. “I hate school, Mama. I don’t want to go back.”

“It’s the changes in your body,” her mother said softly. “Am I right?”

Audrey bit her lip, before admitting in a low voice, “It’s awful.”

Sarah Williams took her daughter’s hand and squeezed it between both of hers. “Oh, baby, you’ve just matured faster than some girls. Do you know how many women would love to have your figure?”

“I’m not a woman. And the boys make fun of me.”

Her mother pressed her lips together. “That’s because they’re immature and don’t know any better.”

“Please don’t make me go back.”

“Audrey.” Her mother’s voice held a note of wistfulness as if she wished she could snap her fingers and take the pain away. But she couldn’t. And they both knew it. “It won’t last forever, honey. The older you get, the better things will be. I promise.”

In a way, she was right. Audrey wore clothing that helped to conceal her figure, loose-fitting blouses and jumpers. She never wore sweaters or anything that remotely emphasized her breasts. The nicknames ceased. At least where she could hear them. But the boys were still interested in one thing. And after a few dates that resulted in little more than fumbling and groping, she decided dating wasn’t for her.

Instead, she threw herself into her schoolwork and had so far maintained the highest GPA in her class. She spent her free time painting—mostly portraits, scenes from small-town life. She loved the mystery of a blank canvas, starting out with nothing but white space and capturing a moment of time there.

Halfway through her senior year she went to work for the Colbys, and although she got a little less sleep than before, it was worth it to have the extra money. She’d recently been accepted at Georgia State. Going to college was important to her. No one else in her family had ever been. Her mother and father were counting on her to be the first. Money was tight, though. Her father had worked in a lumber mill for the past twenty years, and her mother took in sewing and alterations in addition to her job at the local Rexall. Audrey wanted to help with her tuition so she took as many extra hours as she could.

One afternoon, Mrs. Colby asked her to dust in the library. With its walnut-paneled walls and inviting reading lamps, it was a room she could have spent weeks in without ever leaving. She wiped each of the frames positioned on the round tables, handling them with care. An eight-by-ten photo in a pewter frame caught her eye. A young man with glossy black hair and smooth, dark skin, smiled up at her, his eyes hinting at self-assurance. The Colbys’ only son, Jonathan. She’d heard of him through her older brother. Jonathan Colby was a local icon of sorts, the rich kid who went to boarding school and moved away after college.

Audrey rubbed at the glass on the photograph, then placed it back on the table. But her gaze lingered on his handsome face, and she wondered if he ever came home.

After that day, she found herself thinking about him. In school while the teacher was lecturing. At night when she turned off her lamp and lay in bed. She wondered what it would be like to go out with someone older and more mature, unlike the boys in school.

Jonathan Colby remained snagged in her thoughts, even though she’d never met him, even though he was older by ten years or so.

But on the following Tuesday, she forgot all of her arguments about putting him from her mind. She was in the kitchen helping Mary, an older woman who had been with the Colbys for years as a housekeeper. Mary touched a hand to the grey braid wound into a coil at the nape of her neck. “We’ll have to get the house extra clean this week,” Mary said. “Mrs. Colby says Jonathan is coming home over the weekend. She’s having a dinner on Saturday night for him. She asked me to check with you about working late.”

The dish in Audrey’s hand clattered to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she said, bending over to pick it up, grateful that it hadn’t broken. “I’ll be glad to.”

Mary sent her a knowing look and then said with a chuckle, “Jonathan always did have that effect on the girls.”

It was the slowest week of Audrey’s life. She thought the weekend would never arrive. On Saturday afternoon, she took extra care getting ready. Standing back and looking at herself in the mirror, she decided that she looked older, a little more sophisticated.

Once she arrived at the Colby house, Audrey was a batch of nerves, her stomach tightening every time the kitchen door swung open.

When it was time to serve dessert, Audrey followed Mary into the dining room where the din of conversation rose and fell around the twelve-person table.

She kept her eyes on the serving cart, too nervous to look up.

“Could you put one of these in each bowl, Audrey?” Mary asked, handing her some silver spoons.

“Sure,” she said, glancing at the head of the table and spotting him for the first time. To his right sat a dark-haired girl laughing at something he’d just said close to her ear. Audrey couldn’t look away from the two of them. He was every bit as handsome as his photo. More so. And the girl beside him was tall and striking in an off-the-shoulder black cocktail dress.