I let those words settle.
Understanding was not the same as excusing.
But it was a door.
“You hurt me badly,” I said.
“I know.”
“In front of the neighbors.”
“I know.”
“You took food I had made for everyone after telling me there was no room for me.”
Her face crumpled slightly.
“I know.”
“And Gregory knew.”
From the porch came his voice.
“I’m right here.”
For the first time since yesterday, Brenda laughed.
So did I.
The tension eased by one small degree.
Then I showed her Robert’s letter.
She did not make it past the second page before she began crying.
Not dramatically.
Just quietly.
She pressed the paper flat against the table with both hands.
“He wrote this and never told us?”
“He wrote it for me.”
She nodded.
When she finished, she sat staring at his signature.
Finally she said, “Don’t sell because of me.”
