I stared at Dad. He didn’t deny it.
Helen’s voice softened.
“Your mother got sick. Your father was exhausted. You were working in another state. I started helping.”
I remembered trays of food appearing in Mom’s refrigerator, appointments Dad somehow managed, fresh sheets when Mom was too weak to climb the stairs.
I’d thought Dad had done everything.
“Helen did those things?”
He nodded.
“And Mom knew?”
“Yes.”
Helen swallowed. “For a while, she was grateful.”
“For a while?”
Dad looked at the photograph.
“Then Maggie started watching us.”
Nothing had happened.
No affair.
No kiss.
No secret meetings.
But Mom saw something neither of them had admitted.
Helen could make Dad laugh during the worst year of his life.
Dad could sit silently beside Helen without pretending to be strong.
Mom began to fear the life that might continue after hers ended.
“So she crossed you off,” I said. “And scratched your face out.”
Helen nodded.
“Yes.”
“But why did you disappear?”
Helen’s eyes filled.
“Because she asked me to.”
I stared at her. “Mom told you to leave?”
“Three weeks before she died.”
Dad’s head snapped toward her.
“What?”
Helen went pale.
“You didn’t know?”
Dad stood so quickly his chair struck the wall. “Helen.”
