Inglath Cooper - A Year And A Day

The stations were all empty, and Audrey sat down in front of one, thankful that no one was here today.

She put one hand on the keyboard, anxiety making her nearly light-headed. She blinked it away, logged on to the account she had set up under a fake name, clicked on Write Mail and typed in the address she had memorized. Several minutes passed before she could bring herself to type the words. Doing so felt like jumping off a cliff, with no guarantee of ever hitting bottom.

Hello. I am told you might be able to help me.

Dear Reader,

Audrey Colby is a woman who took a wrong turn early in her life. Ignored that little voice of doubt that bid her to take a second look. We’ve all done it. It’s just that some bad decisions put us in worse places than others.

Like most of the choices we make, the picture isn’t black and white. Audrey has a son whom she loves heart and soul. And she’s determined to give him the life he deserves, a life free of the awful things he’s seen from his father.

I once heard someone living in a difficult situation asked why she stayed, why she didn’t leave. Her answer? “At least this devil I know.”

That’s the tough part. Prying ourselves out of the familiar, even when it’s bad, and flinging ourselves into the unknown.

I think of my own life as a tapestry, countless threads of good and bad woven together. It would be impossible to pull one thread without changing the landscape of the entire thing, making it something other than what it is. Maybe the challenge then is to find peace with the choices we’ve made, and go forward with experience as a beacon to light our path.

I love to hear from readers. Please visit my Web site at www.inglathcooper.com. Or write to me at P.O. Box 973, Rocky Mount, VA 24151.

All best,

Inglath Cooper

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my husband, Mac, and my daughters, Kavvi,

Tatti and Nadia. You make my life complete.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

AUDREY COLBY HATED New Year’s Eve.

It was the one day of the year when people celebrated the old and ushered in the new, the turning of the calendar an impossible-to-deny reminder of another twelve months slipping by. One more year, and nothing had changed. Or rather, she had changed nothing.

She sat in front of the walnut vanity, the reflection in the heavy Venetian mirror barely recognizable. With one finger, she traced the now faded bruise just beneath her jaw. She opened a drawer and pulled out a tube of concealer, dotted some on and smoothed it in. The yellow-green shadow surrendered temporarily, nearly invisible.

“Audrey, are you ready?” Her husband’s voice echoed up from downstairs. Smooth. Cultured. Tainted by a hint of irritation.

The muscles in her stomach tightened. But outwardly she showed no emotion. She’d grown used to the bland stranger in the mirror. The woman who never smiled, whose eyes were flat and lifeless. She considered not finishing her makeup. Did it really matter how much she put on, anyway? She’d still hate the way she looked. She could see past the mask, after all. Even if the rest of the world couldn’t.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Jonathan appeared in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the frame. He wore a black tuxedo, his face tan against a starched white shirt, his expression placid. “What’s taking so long?” he asked. “We’re late.”

Audrey forced herself to meet her husband’s gaze, strove for a note of reason in her voice. “Why don’t you go without me tonight? I’m not feeling well.”

He crossed the room, lifted a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. Something flickered in his brown eyes. “I can’t do that,” he said. “What would people think?”

“What does it matter what people think?”

“Ross and Sylvia are expecting us,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

A sudden furnace of anger ignited inside her. “And Laura?” Amazingly enough, her voice remained even.

He went still, raised an eyebrow, a half smile touching his mouth. “I believe Ross said she’s still in from school. Since when are you so interested in seeing Laura?”

Audrey’s fury collapsed as quickly as it had erupted. “I’m not,” she said, her voice neutral. Sammy was in his room, watching a DVD. She didn’t want him to hear their raised voices.

She rose from the stool and walked to her closet, a small room in itself, the light snapping on automatically when she opened the door. She closed her eyes and fought back the hopelessness pressing down on her. Again and again, they danced the same dance, their lives stuck on this one loop. Go along to get along.

But she had a plan. A way out. And for now, that was all that mattered. A plan. It would get her through. She clung to the thought of it like a drowning woman to a single buoy.

“Audrey?” Jonathan stood at the closet entrance, an edge to his voice now.

“I should finish getting ready,” she said, flipping through the dresses, taking one from the rack without looking at it.

Jonathan yanked it from her hand, tossed it on the floor like it was garbage, then pulled her to him. He lowered his head, kissing the side of her jaw where the bruise was now disguised, then the tip of her chin, and finally, her mouth. “So beautiful,” he said, drawing back to look at her. “I keep thinking that one day, I’ll look at you and see you in a different light. So far, no.”

Bird in a cage, she thought. What pretty feathers. A snap of the fingers, and the bird sings.

“By the way,” he said, close to her ear, “I thought you’d like to know I’ve made arrangements for Samuel to begin at the Cade Country School.”

The words hit her like a brick to the chest. For a moment, she felt as if all the air in her lungs had been forced out. She couldn’t breathe. A hand to her throat, she said, “What do you mean you’ve made arrangements?”

“A boarding school in Connecticut,” he explained rationally, as if there were anything even remotely rational in what he was saying. “They’ll have a room available for him mid-February. The school is completing new housing, and they’re willing to take him in to the semester. We’ll plan to fly him up after my trip to the Dominican Republic.”

Audrey stared at him, too stunned to respond. When she finally found her voice, it didn’t sound like her own. “Sammy isn’t going anywhere. He can’t. He’s too young—”

“He’s nine years old,” Jonathan said abruptly. “Cade starts with fourth graders. I think it would do him good to have some time away from you. You’ve made him far too clingy. It’s time he stopped being such a mama’s boy.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist, as if she could somehow hold back the sudden avalanche of pain tumbling through her. She had long ago learned that arguing with Jonathan was an exercise in futility. She bit her lip now to keep from screaming at him.

He stepped forward, pushing her aside. She stumbled, righted herself with a hand on the wall. He rummaged through the clothes, impatient, pulling a black dress from a hanger and throwing it at her. “Wear this,” he said. “The other one looks cheap.”