My pulse pounded.
I could have defended myself.
I could have told everyone exactly what Mark had said on the porch.
I could have described the conversations, the paperwork, his insistence.
Instead, I said, “We’re not doing this here.”
“Because you can’t?”
“Because this day is supposed to be about Mark.”
I walked away.
I thought refusing to fight was an act of kindness.
By the end of the evening, I realized my silence had created room for suspicion.
Mark’s aunt approached me near the door.
“Sally, can I ask you something?”
I already knew I wouldn’t like the question.
“What?”
“Was Mark taking medication near the end that might have affected his judgment?”
I stared at her.
“Excuse me?”
“Violet just wondered whether maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“He knew exactly what he wanted.”
“I’m not accusing you.”
“Yes, you are.”
