"Eleanor, they're things I put in place a long time ago. I'm only making sure every line is airtight. You'll always be safe, no matter what those two think of me."
I noticed Garrett on the phone.
I didn't ask what he meant. I should have.
But the months passed in a kind of warm hush, winter into a tentative spring, and I let myself believe the storm outside our bedroom door wouldn't ever come in.
***
It happened on a Tuesday.
Garrett poured his coffee, reached for the paper, and then his hand went to his chest. He looked at me with such surprise, as if he'd just remembered something important. And then he was gone, just like that.
A heart attack.
I didn't ask what he meant.
***
At the cemetery, the wind cut straight through the black dress I wore.
Margaret stood across the open grave, dry-eyed, watching me as if I were a stain on the linen.
