“He listened.
He knew exactly what to say.”
She looked at me.
“He told me his wife understood what it meant to care for a sick husband.”
I closed my eyes.
“He showed me your photograph,” she continued.
“He said you’d helped build a fund for families like ours.”
She reached into a drawer and removed a brochure.
There I was.
Smiling beside a hospital donation table.
Under my photograph, a printed statement described my commitment to compassionate care.
I’d never approved those words.
Judith touched the picture.
“I believed you were helping us.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Mrs.
Calder, I didn’t know.”
She studied my face.
For a terrible moment, I thought she would ask me to leave.
Instead, she said, “Then I suppose he lied to both of us.”
That kindness hurt more than anger would have.
Judith described the payments she’d made.
When Arthur’s condition deteriorated, Mark assured her that a private recovery program could still help him.
