“I know,” she whispered. “Sometimes I heard you crying. I wanted to apologize, but I was too ashamed.”
Susan suddenly interrupted.
“Then why did you tell us Emily wasn’t feeding you? We brought you food almost every day!”
Martha covered her face.
“Because whenever you brought food, you stayed and talked to me. I felt important again. I wasn’t just a lonely old widow.”
A painful realization struck me.
Whenever the neighbors visited, Martha dressed nicely, fixed her hair, and laughed for hours. After they left, she became quiet and withdrawn.
For the first time, I understood how lonely she felt.
But understanding didn’t erase the pain she’d caused.
“Martha,” I asked, “if I hadn’t gathered everyone here, would you ever have admitted the truth?”
She hesitated.
“I don’t know. Maybe my fear was stronger than my conscience.”
That answer affected me more than her tears.
