“She became sensitive to light after treatment,” he explained. “And she did not want anyone seeing how weak she looked.”
“What about the emergency contact?”
“She asked me to change it.”
I felt shame rising through me.
Every detail I had arranged into something sinister had another explanation.
Still, one question remained.
“Why did you shut the curtain whenever I waved?”
Owen’s face softened with regret.
“Because she cried every time she saw you.”
Marjorie covered her mouth.
“I knew I had lied to you,” she said. “You had been kinder to me than most of my own family. I was ashamed.”
I took her hand.
“You didn’t owe me your past.”
“But I owed you the truth.”
The front door was still open downstairs, and cool air moved through the house. Somewhere outside, a lawn mower started. The ordinary sound made the moment feel even more painful.
Owen sat across from us.
