Chapter 55 Peggy
His voice.
Panicked.
Sammy’s sweet face looming over mine. His eyes, wide, horrified.
I can’t hear him clearly.
I try to reach for him, but I cannot move my hands.
Something is broken in my throat. I can’t swallow. Shallow, painful breaths.
I gasp, suddenly recalling what he did to me.
“Sam?” I croak.
He is crying, his face over mine, his tears falling onto my skin.
“Sammy?”
“Oh, Mom.”
I cough, then retch.
“Are you OK, Sammy?”
He nods, tears falling again from his eyes. Hitting my face, my cheeks, my lips.
“I’m so sorry, Mom.”
I sit upright, my hands at my neck.
Drew is between us and the woodstove. The rug is turning crimson. I shift away from him. A fine splatter on the door. I can’t even look at Sammy’s school shirt.
I pull my boy close to me, tight to my chest, squeezing him, filling in the gaps. “You are OK, my love.”
He sobs into me. Wailing. I pull him tighter still. My son has his face buried in my shirt and I sit staring at my husband. Thinking clearly, coherently, for the first time in years. Watching him on the floor while comforting my perfect child.
Sammy pulls away, tracing the ligature marks on my neck with his fingertips.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” My voice is croaky. A barely audible bark. I lift his chin so our faces are almost touching. “Look at me, Sam. You’ve done nothing wrong. You are not to blame for any of this, do you understand? You did what you had to.”
He wipes his eyes with his palms. “I didn’t think. I just…”
Meltwater drains from the roof.
It streams down the angled windows.
Drew moves.
“Mom. Did you see that? Mom?”
“No, love.”
“He moved.”
“No, he didn’t. Come here.”
Sammy looks at me for answers. His eyes are red and his lower lip is trembling.
“Leave your father.”
The sound of our breathing. Three of us. Meltwater dripping. I touch my neck and caress the indentation burns from his belt.
“He laid his hands on you,” says Sammy.
“What?”
“He said he’d never do it. Lay his hands on us. He broke his promise.”
I stroke Sammy’s hand, urging it to stop trembling. “This, all this, is over now. It’s over. We’ll be all right, you and me, I give you my word on that. Look at me. We’ll be safe.”
Gasping noises.
We hold on to each other.
“I’m so sorry,” he says.
I squeeze him tighter.
Drew hasn’t moved.
Sammy sobs and says, “I want to say goodbye to him.”
“Oh, no. You don’t have to do that.”
“I do.”
I watch as he stands up unsteadily. I see the state of his shirt properly for the first time.
The stains. He steps heavily over to his father.
Sobs again. Sammy kneels down close to Drew’s head.
Apologizes over and over. He whispers something into his dad’s ear.
Something about helping him at school. I start to break down and weep properly for the first time.
A boy and his father. Samson rocks back and forth on his heels, shaking his head.
And then he bends down carefully, his fingers shaking, and he gently kisses his dad’s smooth cheek for the last time.
A bird flies up to the boat and lands on the roof. It flies on.
“What do we do now, Mom?”
I touch my neck again. “I don’t know. I’ll take care of you.”
“But what do we do?”
The window darkens.
Wind rushes into the chimney and then there’s light again from the window, illuminating Drew’s body on the floor.
Footsteps outside.
“Mom.”
Terror in his eyes.
I try to get to my knees.
Someone knocks on the door at my back. The door I almost hung from.