I was still a virgin at 22, and my mother always warned me, “Never be left alone with your grandmother’s husband.” I thought that he just didn’t like Wayne… until the night Grandma left town, Wayne came back drunk, walked into my room, locked the door and said, “Tonight you’re mine.”

She was quiet, polite, always well-dressed, white-haired and a low voice.

I’d never been treated badly.

Quite the opposite.

If my car didn’t start, Wayne would help me.

If I was back late from college, I would leave the porch light on.

Sometimes we would sit in the kitchen and talk for hours.

But my mother hated that I felt so comfortable with him.

“Emily, don’t get too close to him.

I laughed.

“Mom, you’re seventy-six.

Age means nothing.

“He’s Grandma’s husband.

Mom always answered the same.

That’s precisely why I tell you to be careful.

It was once even more direct.

“When my mother isn’t home, don’t be left alone with Wayne.

I was angry that time.

“If you know anything about him, then tell me at once.

Mom looked at me for a long time.
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