Page 46 of Wyatt
“I didn’t see him hit his face,” Coco said to Lana.
“He gets them a lot,” Lana said, holding a clean shirt in her hand.
Coco tugged up his shirt, and he held his hands up for her to lift it over his head.
A slow horror washed over her as she saw his body. Bruises, both large and small, some gray-green, some a deeper purple. They darkened his arms, his torso.
She looked up at Lana, who handed her the shirt. Coco took it but kept her gaze in hers. “He’s got a lot of bruises.”
Lana crouched next to her, as if to examine him. “He’s a boy. He falls down a lot. But I’m sorry, I didn’t notice there were so many.”
She swallowed, her throat thick. They weren’t…uh…
She’d vetted this place, had looked into Lana and her history. Nothing suggested abuse.
As she looked at the bruises, they didn’t seem to be pressure marks, as if he’d been grabbed, but rather bumps and bruises.
Still, her hands shook as she pulled the shirt over his head. Then she picked him up and walked over to the sink. Lowered her voice.
“Do you like it here, Mikka?”
He was moving his head away as she washed his face so she stopped. Met his eyes. “Do they hurt you?”
She really didn’t care that Lana was standing just a few feet away and could hear her.
He shook his head.
She finished washing his face and set him back onto his feet.
Lana came up to her. “He is safe here.”
Coco couldn’t read her expression, but that didn’t matter. She turned to Lana. “I’m trusting you with his life—”
“I know.” Lana’s eyes sparked. “No one loves him like I do.”
The statement could dig a tunnel through Coco, but she nodded. “How often does he have nosebleeds?”
“Sometimes at night. Sometimes after he plays.”
Mikka scampered back outside, laughing. He didn’t bear the fear of an unloved, abused, or even neglected child.
“And how long has he been bruising?”
“I don’t know. But sometimes he cries at night because his bones hurt.”
A chill shivered through her. “Does he get sick?”
She shook her head.
So maybe it was nothing, but— “When is the last time he saw a doctor?”
“Last fall. He got a complete checkup. He’s fine, Katya.” Lana touched her arm. “I promise. He’s just an active little boy.”
Coco followed her back to the yard where she and the other teachers called the children in for dinner. Tried to chase the worry from her head as they ate and then as she pulled him onto her lap for a story.
Mikka held the lion in his arms as she read, his own body tucked close to her. She wanted to lock the smell of him inside her, along with the picture of his smile, the joy in his beautiful eyes.
She settled him in his bed, one of ten in a room. Kneeling beside it, she reached inside to find the person her mother had told her she was.