I sat on the edge of the bed.
She lowered herself into the chair opposite me.
“I brought him the draft,” she said.
“Before they filed.
I thought if he knew, he could stop them without anyone knowing I’d told him.”
“Then they filed anyway.”
“Yes.”
“And you came with them.”
“They said if I didn’t, I was on my own.”
Her voice broke.
“I thought maybe the lawyer would stop them.
Maybe Grandpa had changed something.
But if he hadn’t, I was still going to move in.”
There it was.
The truth, ugly and incomplete.
She had tried to protect me.
She had also been prepared to benefit if she failed.
“I don’t know how to forgive that,” I said.
“I don’t expect you to.”
“What did Grandpa say when you showed him the papers?”
She looked at her hands.
“He asked whether I knew I could leave them.”
