You watched me cry every March.
You told me I needed to stop dwelling on the past.”
His hands began shaking.
“I was ashamed.”
“Not enough to stop lying.”
Silence filled the room.
Then he whispered, “Did you find her?”
I looked at him for a long moment.
“Yes.”
He raised his head.
“Is she well?”
“She is.”
His shoulders slumped.
“Thank God.”
I felt a rush of anger so sharp it almost took my breath away.
“Don’t.”
He blinked.
“Don’t act as though you were waiting for good news.
You knew she was alive long before I did.
She came looking for us, and you tried to buy her silence.”
He covered his face.
“I made mistakes.”
I shook my head.
“A mistake is forgetting an anniversary.
A mistake is choosing the wrong road.”
My voice trembled.
“You stole our daughter, Mark.
Then you stole the money I earned grieving her.”
