“Very.”
“Then why didn’t she tell me?”
“Was she happy when she visited you?”
Arthur looked toward the box.
“Because she was trying to protect someone.”
“Who?”
“You.”
I stared at him.
“Protect me from what?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“Protect me from what?”
Instead, he asked, “What do you remember about your father?”
The question caught me off guard.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“He left when I was seven. My mother said he didn’t want a family anymore.”
“And you never saw him again?”
“No.”
The question caught me off guard.
“Did he write?”
“Not that I knew.”
Arthur looked down.
“Sometimes, children aren’t told everything.”
Anger rose in my chest.
“What are you getting at? My mother raised me alone. She worked very hard to make sure I had enough. I won’t have a stranger questioning her!”
“Did he write?”
