“She intended it for the truth to have somewhere to live.”
I looked at the house.
“What does that mean?”
“You could sell it. Keep it. Give it to someone else. The choice is yours.”
“Yours too.”
“I’m giving you the choice.”
We sat on the porch while Lucas walked down to the water.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then Douglas said, “I used to imagine bringing you here.”
“After you married Elaine?”
“Before. Sometimes after.”
“What would we have done?”
“Nothing remarkable. Built shelves. Argued over paint. Burned dinner.”
“You hate painting.”
“I would have learned.”
“You hate learning things you’re not immediately good at.”
“I would have pretended to be good.”
I smiled.
He watched me.
“There you are,” he said.
“Where?”
“The girl beneath the bleachers.”
“She’s older now.”
“She always was more sensible than me.”
“That’s true.”
He leaned back against the post, tired but peaceful.
