Then Robert found it.
I looked up sharply.
“How?”
Susan swallowed.
“He came over to repair my kitchen cabinet. I had the letter on
the counter. When I saw him reading the envelope, I panicked.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Everything.”
“And he didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
I looked toward the window.
Susan continued.
“
He told me I should speak to you. I said I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you and Robert had tried for years to have children.”
The words struck me unexpectedly.
Susan’s eyes filled.
“I watched you go through appointments, disappointments, and all those months of hoping. I was there when you finally told everyone you couldn’t bear another treatment.”
I remembered.
Robert and I had wanted children desperately.
After years of trying, we’d accepted that parenthood might not happen for us.
It had been one of the deepest sorrows of our
marriage.
