Fed him dinner.
Asked about his grades.
Then, after he left, she would say things like, “He’s a nice boy, Hannah. Nice boys aren’t always men you build your future around.”
I used to roll my eyes.
I thought it was harmless.
I hadn’t understood what she was willing to do.
“So she forged that letter.”
“Yes.”
“And told you I was engaged.”
“Yes.”
“And told me you were getting married.”
Douglas looked at me.
“That part was true.”
The honesty hurt, but not in the way it might have forty years earlier.
“You met Margaret.”
“I did.”
“And loved her.”
He looked toward Lucas.
“Yes.”
There was no apology in the word.
I was grateful for that.
I did not want Margaret reduced to a mistake in somebody else’s love story.
Douglas’s fingers moved weakly across the blanket.
“She was good to me, Hannah. Better than I deserved sometimes.”
