Not for the sentence. Not even for the house.
For how long she had believed that loving her family meant becoming easier to put away.
CHAPTER 5 – A Place to Hang a Coat
Ruth stayed until the kettle boiled.
They drank their tea in the living room, neither woman asking the other to find a bright side.
Eventually Margaret said, “I’m relieved, and I’m ashamed of being relieved.”
Ruth set her cup down.
“You can miss who you hoped she was.”
Margaret watched a bus move past the window.
“I miss who I thought Daniel was, too.”
“Then let him show you who he’s becoming. Slowly.”
Slowly was something Margaret could manage.
Daniel did not receive a key to her house. He rang the bell, asked before visiting, and accepted no without sending the children to ask again.
Sometimes he brought groceries she had requested. Sometimes he came only to collect the children and stayed on the doorstep because Margaret was tired.
He began counseling and kept going after the crisis no longer gave him a convenient explanation for needing it.
One Saturday, while the children drew at the kitchen table, he told Margaret about a session he had almost walked out of.
“I kept saying I was caught in the middle.”
Margaret waited.
“He asked why I thought the middle was an innocent place to stand.”
Daniel picked at a loose thread on his sleeve.
“I don’t tell you that because it earns me anything.”
“Good.”
“I just thought you should know I’m working on it when you aren’t there to see.”
She nodded once.
That was enough for that afternoon.
The children found their own way back into the house.
At first, the older one asked permission before sitting on the sofa. Margaret answered gently each time until the question stopped coming.
The younger one spilled orange juice and froze with both hands above the spreading puddle.
Margaret fetched a cloth.
“Lift your drawing, sweetheart.”
