“I was cruel to you.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were judging me.”
“I was grieving. I barely had enough strength to judge myself.”
She looked down.
“Bradley said you wanted me gone. He said you complained about me to everyone.”
“I complained to no one. I was afraid if I said anything, you would ask me to leave.”
Her face crumpled.
“I should have asked you what you needed.”
“Yes.”
The word was difficult, but necessary.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I believe you.”
It was not forgiveness. Not yet.
But it was a door left unlocked.
Ellie and Noah began visiting every Saturday. They helped Daniel plant daffodils along the fence, and Noah insisted on naming every one of them. Ellie sat beside me while I sorted Charles’s papers.
One afternoon, she asked, “Did Grandpa know about the money?”
“Yes.”
“Was he bad?”
I looked at the papers in my lap.
“He made bad choices. He also loved me. People can be more than one thing.”
“Is Dad bad?”
I took her hand.
“Your father is responsible for what he did. You are not responsible for fixing him.”
She thought about this.
“Can he still become better?”
“I hope he does.”
“Do you still love him?”
My eyes filled.
“Yes.”
