Patrick sat beside her.
“I promised him I’d be there if you needed me. But I was afraid that talking about everything he left behind would hurt you.”
Beth didn’t answer immediately.
Then she said, “Not knowing hurt, too.”
Patrick nodded slowly.
“I understand that now.”
There was something else in his expression, but before he could speak, Janet approached.
“Beth, honey, can we talk?”
Beth looked at her mother and then at the envelope.
“Did you know about these?”
Janet nodded.
Beth’s voice trembled.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Janet glanced around the reception room.
I suggested they use the small sitting room down the hallway, where it was quieter.
Beth asked me to come along.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Finally, Janet sat down.
“After your father died, everyone wanted to talk about what a wonderful firefighter he was,” she began. “People kept calling him a hero.”
