PART 4
Three days passed.
Then a week.
The calls came nonstop.
I ignored most of them.
For the first time since Arthur died, the house felt peaceful.
Then one afternoon Emma appeared at my door alone.
Her bicycle leaned against the mailbox.
I opened the door.
“Emma?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Can I come in?”
Of course she could.
Children should never have to ask.
She sat at the kitchen table while I poured lemonade.
“Grandma?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Are Mom and Dad getting divorced?”
The question hit harder than any bank statement.
“Why would you ask that?”
“They fight all the time now.”
I sat beside her.
“Sometimes money problems make people say things they don’t mean.”
Emma stared at her glass.
“Mom says this is your fault.”
The words stung.
Not because they hurt.
Because a child had been forced to carry them.
“What do you think?”
Emma looked up.
Then she surprised me.
“I think they’re mad because you stopped fixing everything.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
Children see truths adults spend years avoiding.
That evening Wesley called.
For the first time, his voice wasn’t angry.
It sounded tired.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“We need help.”
I waited.
“Financial help?”
“No.”
The pause stretched.
“Marriage counseling.”
That answer shocked me.
For once, he wasn’t asking for money.
He was asking for honesty.
“Then start by telling your wife the truth.”
“What truth?”
“That your mother isn’t an ATM.”
He laughed bitterly.
A broken laugh.
“I think we’re finally learning that.”
