She flinched.
“For twenty years, his brothers have called me his second wife.”
“Phoebe—”
“He gave me jewelry that woman is wearing in a wedding photograph.”
My voice shook.
“And apparently every member of this family knows why except me.”
Her eyes filled.
“I think I’ve earned the story.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Don’t apologize instead of answering me.”
The front door opened.
Mark walked in.
He saw the tape.
“Oh, hell.”
I turned.
“You know what’s on this.”
“Not exactly.”
“You know enough.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
Then his mother sat heavily on the couch.
Mark remained standing.
For the first time in twenty years, neither had a joke.
“Her name was Joanna Mercer,” Mark said.
I held the tape tighter.
“How long were they together?”
“Almost three years.”
“Were they engaged?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“How serious?”
Mark looked at me.
“They had a wedding planned.”
I held up the VHS.
“June eighteenth?”
His mother started crying.
Mark nodded.
“That was supposed to be their wedding day.”
For several seconds, all I could hear was the clock.
“But they didn’t get married.”
“No.”
“Why?”
The front door opened again.
Daniel walked in.
He looked exhausted.
His eyes immediately found the cassette.
Then me.
“Phoebe.”
“Where were you?”
“Driving.”
I laughed once.
It sounded bitter.
“You’ve had twenty-two years to think of what to say.”
His shoulders dropped.
“You’re right.”
I held up the tape.
“Who was Joanna?”
Daniel’s face changed.
I expected guilt.
Instead, I saw grief.
Old grief.
The kind that does not disappear just because decades pass.
He sat down.
“She was someone I loved.”
I waited.
His mother began to stand.
Daniel said:
“Mom, go home.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“She stays.”
Daniel nodded.
I sat across from him.
“What happened on June eighteenth, 1994?”
He looked at his hands.
“Joanna didn’t make it to the church.”
My anger faltered.
“What does that mean?”
“She was driving with her sister.”
He swallowed.
“A truck crossed the center line.”
Nobody moved.
“Her sister died at the scene.”
My hand went to my mouth.
“Joanna survived.”
Daniel’s voice became quieter.
“But she was badly injured.”
I stared at him.
“How badly?”
“She had multiple fractures. A serious head injury. Internal injuries.”
His mother was crying openly now.
“She spent weeks in the hospital.”
