And I hated myself for hating it.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Clara looked toward Mother.
Mother answered.
“He intended to.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Bennett.”
“No. You said I should listen. I’m listening. Apparently everyone in this room knows things about my father except me.”
Mother’s eyes flashed.
“You think I enjoyed carrying this?”
“I don’t know what you enjoyed, Mother. Until yesterday I didn’t even know Clara knew what tea you drink when you’re sick.”
That silenced all three of us.
The cruelty of the remark arrived only after I heard it aloud.
Clara looked down.
Mother studied me with tired disappointment.
I stood.
“I need some air.”
“Bennett.”
“Not now.”
I left before either of them could stop me.
For nearly an hour, I walked the grounds behind the house.
The property covered twenty-three acres, most of which I rarely saw.
