Page 47 of The Burning

“The children are at school?” I ask.

“Of course they are.” Bertha snatches up a gas-blackened percolator and pours into mismatched cups.

I take a chair at the table without being asked. “Why didn’t you tell me your ex-husband broke your son’s arm?”

She looks calm on the exterior as she brings cups to the table, but I don’t miss the slosh of coffee that spills over the rim as she hands one to me. “I didn’t know it was important.” She shrugs. “You didn’t ask.”

“It is and I’m asking now.”

She takes the chair across from me. “Milan lost his temper sometimes. With the kids, you know. I don’t think he meant to actually break—”

“Did he ever hurt the children?”

“No.”

“He broke your son’s arm, ma’am.”

“Just that one time,” she snaps. “Grabbed him too rough. That’s all.”

“What about you?” I ask. “Did he hit you?”

She looks away, but quickly raises her gaze back to mine. “He might’ve slapped me a time or two.”

“In the face? Your body?”

“Face.”

“How bad?”

“Bad enough.”

I stare at her, feeling my temper rise, my heart beating a little too fast. “You know it’s against the law to strike someone.”

“I didn’t like it much. Just tried to keep things calm.”

“You should have called the police. We would have helped you.”

Her laugh has a sour tone. “You don’t know anything.”

We stare at each other silently.

“Is that why you filed for divorce?” I ask after a moment.

She shivers as if her filing for divorce is worse than her husband breaking a young boy’s arm. The cup she’s holding quivers, so she sets it on the table. “I told you. Milan’s the one filed.”

“Do not lie to me,” I snap.

She looks down at the cup, wraps her hands around it as if to warm them.

“Bertha, I’m not here to judge you. I don’t care who filed. But I need the truth because I’m trying to find out who murdered your ex-husband. The more I know about him, the better. Do you understand?”

“I don’t want them to know,” she whispers.

She’s referring to the Amish, of course.

I give her a moment, think about possible implications of domestic abuse. A protective brother or father. “Did you confide in anyone about what was going on in your marriage?” I ask. “That Milan had hit you? That he injured your son?”

“I told no one.”