“He knew I would agree to adopt you because he was dying.”
“He believed you were the only person who could give me a real home.”
“He waited until I could not argue with him.”
My voice rose.
“He let me believe you might be his daughter. He watched me suffer and still said nothing.”
Grace began to cry.
“He wanted to tell you.”
“But he did not.”
I stood and paced beside the bed.
“He decided what truth I could handle. He decided when I would hear it. He placed all of this in your hands and left us to deal with the damage after he was safely gone.”
“Please don’t speak about him like that.”
“How should I speak about him?”
“He was scared.”
“So was I.”
“He was trying to protect everyone.”
“No. He was protecting himself.”
The words landed between us.
Grace lowered her face.
“He said you would forgive him.”
“He was wrong.”
I left the bedroom and walked directly into hers.
Grace followed me.
