“But seven years have passed!”
“I know. And I was wrong.”
He opened the notebook to its final page.
“These are notes about how you’ve been feeling. I was trying to understand when you got tired and when you felt better. Every time I wanted to tell you, I was afraid you’d think I was trying to control you.”
I stared at him.
“And who was the woman you kept talking to on the phone?”
“Our former family doctor. She’s retired now, but I sometimes called her for advice.”
“And the white envelope?”
George pulled it from his pocket.
Inside was some money and a letter.
Written across the top were the words:
“To My Beloved Margaret.”
I unfolded it.
“My darling,
I know that sometimes I’ve been far too stubborn.
You’ve spent your entire life taking care of me. When I was sick, you stayed awake all night. When I lost my job, you never abandoned me.
