Part 2: I discovered my husband was having an affair with my best friend while we were all on the same airplane—and neither of them knew I was there. Instead of confronting them, I sent a small, beautifully wrapped gift to their seats.

I thanked her.

Then I called Laurel.

She promised to keep the children with her until I returned.

For the first time that day, I felt a little less helpless.

But Dawson still hadn't moved.

I sat beside him.

"What are you thinking?"

He looked at the photograph.

Then whispered, "I buried an empty coffin."

I stopped breathing.

"What?"

His eyes filled.

"Megan said the hospital had already arranged the cremation. She told me it would be too painful to see him."

He wiped his face.

"I believed her."

My chest tightened.

"Because you trusted your wife."

He looked toward the window.

"I used to visit that little grave every Sunday."

His voice broke.

"Claire, I spent four years apologizing to my son for not getting home in time."

The following morning, Dawson and I returned to the hospital.

Mom was sitting up, eating breakfast.

She looked stronger.

But when she saw us, she put down her spoon.