“I should have stopped it years ago.”
“Yes.”
He sounded as if each answer struck him.
“What do you want me to do?”
I looked at Emma’s locket, Noah’s compass, Evelyn’s folded hands.
“I want you to tell the truth. To yourself first. Then to Mom. Then to Brent. Then to everyone you let believe I was selfish while I was paying to keep your house standing.”
Dad made a faint sound, almost a sob.
“And I want you to understand something,” I said. “I am not using my children as leverage. I am not punishing you through them. I am removing them from a room where adults taught other children to mock them.”
“I understand.”
I did not know if he did.
But I knew he wanted to.
That was new.
After we hung up, I stood very still.
Emma asked, “Was Grandpa sorry?”
“He’s starting to be.”
