His voice broke.
“But Margaret, I should have told you.”
I whispered:
“Yes, Thomas. You should have.”
He continued.
“I know you would have loved Julian. I know you would have found a way to make room for him.”
A pause.
“I was afraid you'd look at me and see someone who'd betrayed you.”
He swallowed.
“And the terrible truth is, by hiding it, I became exactly that.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The truth.
Not an excuse.
Not a heroic explanation.
An acknowledgment.
Thomas had tried to do something compassionate.
Then he'd made a terrible choice.
And allowed that choice to become a lifelong lie.
He continued.
“Margaret, I don't expect you to forgive me just because I'm gone.”
His voice trembled.
“But I hope you won't let my fear become yours.”
Then:
“There's one final thing I need to tell you.”
I opened my eyes.
Thomas coughed again.
