We looked through photographs at the kitchen table while the children ate strawberries.

Vanessa stopped at the image of Frank escorting me down the aisle.

“You look so relieved,” she said softly.

“I was.”

She studied the photo for another moment and then turned the page.

There was a picture of Dad in the third row, looking stricken.

Vanessa traced the edge of the photograph without touching his face.

“I didn’t understand what I was asking him to do,” she said.