“I honestly don’t think he knew who he could trust anymore,” Samuel said softly.

Our conversation ended soon after that.

Samuel promised to mail me copies of the personal notes he had kept from that time, though he warned me they might not be solid legal proof.

I sat alone in the dim kitchen for hours after hanging up, watching the shadows stretch across the room.

When my daughters came downstairs later for dinner, I forced myself to put on a warm smile.

I cooked their favorite meal, listened closely as they talked about their school day, helped Daisy with her reading homework, and laughed at a silly story my oldest daughter told.