That evening, Evelyn stayed for dinner.
Barry joined us, with Gypsy curled beneath his chair.
I served roasted chicken, potatoes, and vegetables in careful portions.
Evelyn looked at the table, and sadness crossed her face.
“I’m sorry you were forced to live like this.”
I set down the serving spoon.
“Do not apologize for my table. We survived at this table.”
She lowered her eyes.
“Then what should I apologize for?”
“For making Frank feel that he had to choose between his wife and his mother.”
She listened without interrupting.
“And for allowing pride to stop you from searching for the truth.”
Evelyn accepted the words without defending herself.
That mattered.
I placed another piece of chicken on Emma’s plate.
Then I looked at Evelyn.
“Tell her something true about her father.”
Evelyn’s face softened.
“When Frank was sixteen, he came home without his winter coat. He claimed he had lost it.”
