Page 11 of Hope and Country

I recognized my brother’s voice.

“Let me sleep, Robbie. It must be like two in the morning. I have a math test tomorrow.”

“Devon. It’s about your mom. And Harry.”

Robbie never called his father dad. Always used his first name.

He once said to me it was easier to pretend it was a stranger kicking him in the ribs when he was younger than knowing his own dad could do something that horrible to him.

The beating stopped after Harry married my mother.

Then she became his sole victim.

The victim of his hatred.

The victim of his fury.

The victim of everything bad going on in his life—and there was a lot of those.

Mom would accept any beating to save Robbie and me from it.

Even at the risk of her own life.

Harry never touched me. Not once. He never even yelled at me.

He called me his precious child. His sweet daughter. The apple of his eyes.

Deep down, I was afraid he would change his mind about me, and I’d become another one of his victims. One day.

“What about them?” I grumbled. They were gone till Friday, and selfishly, I thought I could breathe for two days without worrying for my life. And since our parents had gone to a cabin with Harry’s co-worker, I knew my mom would be safe for those two days too. No way Harry would let anything slip if there were people around. Nah, he would not break the image of his poster-perfect marriage in front of people. Never.

He loved showing off my mom around too much. She was like his prized possession. The shiny toy he paraded around. Until he closed the door of our home. Then she became his prey.

But Harry was a smart man and never hurt her where it showed. My mother’s face never got any bruises or cracked lips.

Her ribs were another story, though. And her thighs.

Right now, I was deep in sleep, making up for all the nights I’d kept one eye open, just in case Harry decided to give me a taste of his women-beating medicine. A day that would happen when I fell out of his grace. Till then I would grow to be stronger than fear, without letting it own me. I wouldn’t be reduced to my anxieties. That wasn’t my endgame. I frowned as Robbie’s voice washed over me.

My brother sucked in a deep breath. “They had an accident. A moose. They’re fighting for their lives. We need to get going. The hospital is an hour’s drive from here.” His voice broke. “I’m sorry. About your mom. Harry deserves to die. She never should have married the guy. He’s toxic. But I’m here. Forever. I’ll take care of ya. You are my family. Only you. You can count on me. I’ll never abandon you.”

Tears built in my eyes but refused to fall.

I ran my hands over my face, trying to make sense of everything my brother just said.

My mother. A moose. Accident. Hospital.

This all seemed surreal right now.

Robbie clutched my upper arms and helped me sit. “Devon, did you understand anything I said?” he asked, searching my gaze in the dim-lit room.

I nodded. And nodded again.

“Yeah. My mom had an accident. We have to go.” I blinked. “Gimme five minutes, I’ll meet you at the car.”

As if I’d turned into an automated, emotionless robot, I put sweatpants and a hoodie on, knotted my hair in a messy bun, and slid my feet into sneakers I left by the front door.

Robbie said nothing as I climbed into the car. He knitted his fingers through mine, and I closed my eyes, tilting my head back, and chasing away the thought of my mother’s accident—and her life hanging by a thread—as far away as possible. Now wasn’t the time to be weak. She needed my strength. And my prayers. She needed my courage. And my love.