Six for the women Mom had chosen.
One for Dad.
Mom knew he’d feel guilty dating again.
So she chose women she believed would accept that part of Dad would always love her.
My throat tightened despite myself. “That’s why they leave?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Dad looked at Helen.
“When the check comes, I give them Mom’s letter. Then I show them mine.”
“What letter?”
“The one Maggie wrote to me.”
I pushed the list toward him. “You mean this?”
“No.”
Dad reached into his jacket and removed a folded white page.
The creases were nearly worn through.
He handed it to me.
Most of it was what I expected.
Mom telling Dad she loved him.
Mom telling him not to spend the rest of his life alone.
Then I reached the final paragraph.
“If Helen ever comes back into your life, promise me she will remain your friend and nothing more. Anyone else, Tom. Just not her.”
I read it twice.
Then I looked at Helen. “You were in love with him.”
“No.”
Dad said, “Rachel.”
“Was she?”
“No.”
“Was he in love with you?”
Helen answered this time.
“Not while your mother was alive.”
The room seemed to shrink.
