37

THE ROOM SPIRALED. I wanted to run but couldn’t move. All I could do was stare in disbelief as a dissonant, reedy-thin voice mocked me for thinking, for even one second, that Stephen had changed.

“How could you . . . ?” I spoke the words through gritted teeth, heartbreak at war with fury. “After you promised—”

“Claire!” Stephen quickly extricated himself from the young woman and reached for me.

I tried to push him away, but his grip was ironclad around my shoulders.

“This is Kimberly Burhart,” he continued. “Mom’s primary caregiver from the Grove Memory Home. Bev was just telling me how much Mom loved Kimberly, and how she was the only person who could get Mom to eat when we first moved her there.”

Only then did I see Bev standing off to the side, her face ashen. The young woman—Kimberly—just watched us, seemingly oblivious to my outburst. But then I saw Maggie on the sofa behind her, and my world tilted on its axis. The way she looked from me to her father and back again nearly drove me to my knees.

Though I didn’t welcome his support, Stephen’s grip was the only thing keeping me upright.

“Kimberly sat with Mom at almost every meal,” he continued, as though before a jury. “I was just telling her how much we appreciated her kindness.”

Exposed and ashamed, I scrambled to cover, finally managing to move toward the young woman. “And rightly so,” I rasped, careful not to look in Maggie’s direction. “Thank you for all you did for Elaine. She was the most wonderful mother-in-law, and it means so much to us to know she was well cared for.”

“It was truly my pleasure.” Kimberly hunched her shoulders. “Do you mind if I give you a hug? As I told your husband, I’m a hugger!”

I forced a smile. She knew. She’d heard my accusation and was trying to help me save face. “Well, of course you can. We’re in the South, after all.” Avoiding Maggie’s gaze, I could feel her watching me and didn’t miss the look Bev shot Stephen.

Kimberly grabbed her purse and jacket from a chair. “Thank you for letting me intrude like this. My fiancé and I need to leave when the service is over, and I didn’t want to miss the chance to tell you all what a blessing Elaine was to me.”

Bev walked her out, going to great lengths not to look my way and leaving the three of us alone. In that moment, I would have given everything I owned to spare my precious daughter pain upon pain. And that I was at fault for this timing . . .

Feeling my world coming apart, I forced myself to meet her gaze. Maggie’s chin trembled. Tears slipped down her cheeks. She shook her head, her eyes pleading.

“Maggie,” Stephen started, his voice choked.

“What happened?” she whispered, looking more like a little girl now, her attention on Stephen. “What did you do?”

“Sweetie . . .” I stepped forward. “I’m so sorry you’re finding out this way. We were planning on—”

“Finding out about what?” Gone was the little girl. The wariness of a young woman sharpened her gaze.

A knock sounded and the door opened. “We’re ready for—” The funeral director paused. “Do you need more time, Mr. Powell?”

“Just one more minute,” Stephen said. “Thank you.”

Stephen knelt in front of Maggie. “All you need to know right now, honey, is that your mom and I both love you very much. And we—”

“What I need to know, Dad, is what’s going on! Please! Just tell me.”

Confidence had always been Stephen’s trademark. But the suit of armor that had served him so well for so long crumpled like cheap tin under the scrutiny of his daughter.

He bowed his head. “I . . . I was unfaithful to your mom.”

The world stopped spinning. The light in our daughter’s eyes faded to dull.

“No,” she whispered, finally looking at me. “Is this true?”

Unable to speak, I nodded.

She grimaced and held her stomach.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, afraid the sob clawing its way up would be heard in the chapel. But Maggie’s scarcely audible cry, guttural and raw, would haunt me as long as I lived.