I had assumed someone had introduced us before and I had forgotten.
Now I understood.
He had already known me.
Grandpa continued.
“After Caleb’s mother died, William became interested in your mother.”
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“What do you mean interested?”
“He pursued her.”
My stomach turned.
“She refused him. So he fired her.”
Grandpa’s jaw tightened even after all these years.
“Then he made certain nobody respectable around here would hire her.”
A memory flickered.
A man shouting.
My mother gripping my hand.
A doorway.
“I remember yelling,” I whispered.
Grandpa nodded.
“That was William.”
“And Caleb?”
“He was there.”
I closed my eyes.
Another image came back.
A dark-haired little boy standing by a staircase.
Crying.
Grandpa looked at me.
“After that, your mother took you and left. She wanted nothing to do with that family again.”
“But Caleb was a child.”
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“I know.”
His voice became quieter.
“Your mother knew that too.”
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Grandpa didn’t answer directly.
