Then, last Thursday, the doorbell rang.
Mary’s mother stood outside, trembling as she held an envelope.
I began apologizing immediately.
“I didn’t want to lose her. She asked me to, and I agreed. I should have done something.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
She glanced at the envelope.
“Do you think I stayed away because I blame you?”
I couldn’t speak.
“Mary asked me not to tell you something. I promised her. I thought she’d have time to tell you herself.”