Then his arms came around me.
His robe smelled like coffee and cedar soap.
He rested his cheek against my hair.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“You already said that.”
“I need to say it again.”
“Then say it.”
“I should have told you about the sedatives. I should have shown you the papers. I should have trusted you with the truth before I trusted a hiding place.”
I held him tighter.
“I should have asked why you were afraid.”
“You were busy trying to save me.”
“You were busy trying to save everyone.”
He pulled back.
“I couldn’t save Vanessa from herself.”
“No.”
“And I couldn’t save you from being hurt.”
“No.”
His eyes shone.
“But you came anyway.”
I touched the side of his face.
“Of course I came.”
Harold rose slowly from the table.
“I need to tell you something.”
Dad looked at him.
Harold’s hands were trembling.
“I knew the medication was wrong. I knew what Grant was doing. I told myself I was only delivering pills. Then I told myself I was protecting my children. Then I told myself I had no choice.”
Dad said nothing.
“I had choices,” Harold continued. “I made the one that paid me.”
The confession seemed to leave him smaller.
Dad pulled out a chair.
