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lifelong impression it made on her.
    "It became a vicious cycle. He drank and would hit me if I said or did any presumed wrong. The next day, he would apologize and tell me how much he loved me and our son. I believed him even as I began to fear him. I thought I did something wrong to anger him, but soon it didn't matter what I did, he would be furious. Deep down, I knew it would only get worse, but I truly feared for my life. He once told me if I left, he would hunt me down and kill me like a rabid skunk. I didn't doubt that for a second."
    "But you left?" Summer whispered the question, eager to know more.
    Mrs Kensington nodded. "One day when Colton was three, Tom hit him. That gave me the courage to pack up and leave. Hitting me was one thing, hitting my child was another. As soon as he left for work, I packed up what few belongings I had, tossed some clothes into a suitcase, bundled Colton in a blanket, and walked out the door. I didn't stop until I reached the bus station and bought a ticket for Colorado."
    Bewildered, Summer tilted her head. "Why didn't you return home?"
    The older woman's dark gaze lifted even as her lips turned downward. "Shame. I was too ashamed to go home and admit to my mother that she was right. I decided I could make it on my own."
    Night reached over, took his mother's hand, and gave it a squeeze. "And, you did. Very well."
    "Wow." Summer looked at her patient in a new light, one full of amazement and sheer respect. "You're one remarkable woman."
    A small sad smile appeared on Mrs Kensington's face. "I did what I had to do. Just like anyone else."
    "Brave as your father." Night flicked his gaze over to Summer. "He was a Navajo Code Talker in World War II."
    Summer blinked. "I've heard about them. We couldn't have won the war without them talking in Navajo, a code that the Japanese could never break." She wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Mrs Kensington, you carry your heritage well. And, I agree with Night. You possess all the courage of your father and perhaps a bit more. He would be proud of you."
    "Why, thank you, dear." For the first time since she began her story, Mrs Kensington's chin lifted while her lips turned up.

Chapter 8

    Night began to read an email, but found his attention pulled to the young therapist before he could even finish the first paragraph. He watched Summer instruct his mother on the newest exercise in her physical therapy regimen. She coaxed and assisted his mother as she lifted her right leg to a parallel position to the floor while sitting on a chair. Slowly, but surely, the leg extended, held for a few seconds, then relaxed once more. Over and over they repeated this, Summer lavishing praise on his mother more than once for her efforts.
    His mother slumped back in her recliner. "I'm exhausted."
    Summer smiled at her. "But you did a great job today. We'll save working on the stairs for tomorrow."
    Hearing the end of the session for the day, Night emerged from his office, heading toward the women.
    "You're welcome to stay for lunch." His mother offered.
    "That's very sweet, but I really can't."
    "Other patients today?" he inquired, propping a hip against the back of the couch.
    She glanced up, her brown eyes meeting his. "Actually, no. I have the afternoon off, but I have to do some repairs on a gate in my pasture. It's sagging and the post holding the gate is as rotten as decade old fruitcake."
    "I'll come over and help you."
    Summer's eyes widened in obvious surprise. "Oh, no. Really. It's okay. I can do it by myself. Besides, I'm sure you have other things to do."
    He smirked at her backpedaling. She would get his help whether she wanted it or not. "You need two people to hang the gate and get the hinges right. Someone has to hold up the other end." The thought of some one-on-one time with the pretty therapist sent his mind to spinning and anticipation surging through his veins.
    She blinked as if she'd never considered that possibility.
    Pushing his advantage, he