I closed my eyes.
“She lied to both of us.”
“Yes.”
“She separated us.”
“Yes.”
“Then she married me.”
Anna nodded.
“But there is something you still don’t know.”
I opened my eyes.
“What?”
Anna pointed toward the second envelope.
“Read Carol’s letter.”
My hands trembled as I unfolded it.
The handwriting was unmistakably Carol’s.
David,
If you are reading this, then I am gone.
I know you will be angry.
You have every right to be.
For thirty-six years, I have lived with something I could never bring myself to tell you.
I loved you before you loved me.
And because I was young and selfish and afraid, I made a terrible choice.
I separated you from Anna.
I lied to her.
I lied to you.
And then I spent the rest of my life trying to become worthy of the man I had taken away from her.
I had to stop reading.
My eyes filled with tears.
Anna remained silent.
I continued.
I thought that once we were married, the guilt would disappear.
It didn’t.
Instead, every year I loved you more, and every year I became more ashamed.
You were a wonderful husband.
You were a good father.
