“He’s so happy when he’s with you, Mom,” Steven said.

His voice had lost the old arrogance; there was nothing left in it but a tired, honest gentleness.

“He talks about you all week.”

“He’s a good boy,” I said, keeping my eyes on my grandson as he chased his wobbling throw across the grass.

“He deserves an honest life.

That’s all I ever wanted for him.”

Steven was quiet for a moment.

Then he swallowed, and said the thing I could see he had come over to say, the thing he had perhaps been carrying for a year.