“The first repayment.”
My chest tightened.
“Michael, I never asked you to repay the mortgage help.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
He glanced at Jennifer.
She nodded.
Michael looked back at me.
“Because some of it was help.”
He tapped the check.
“And some of it became something we took for granted.”
I shook my head.
“You have kids.”
“We can afford this.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Jennifer.
She smiled slightly.
“We made a budget.”
I laughed.
“Samuel would be proud.”
Michael continued.
“We’re not promising some huge schedule. We’re not going to wreck ourselves paying you back.”
“Good.”
“But we want to return some of it over time.”
I looked at the check again.
Part of me wanted to refuse.
That old instinct.
Protect them.
Tell them to keep it.
Then I thought about what refusing might mean.
Not generosity.
Control of a different kind.
Deciding for them that their attempt to make something right was unnecessary because I preferred the role of giver.
I folded the check.
“Thank you.”
Michael exhaled.
“That was easier than I expected.”
“I’m growing.”
Jennifer laughed from across the room.
