For Ten Years I Drained My Savings to Rescue My Three Grown Children — Then I Woke From Surgery to Learn They’d Filed a Court Petition, While I Was on the Operating Table, Citing Every Loan I Ever Gave Them as Proof I’d Lost My Mind
They wouldn’t.” Harrison did not argue.
He only looked at me, with a steadiness that was its own kind of answer.
“They’re my children,” I said, and I heard how it sounded, like a woman holding a door shut against a flood.
“I know,” he said.
“They love me.” Harrison was quiet a moment.
“I’m sure,” he said, at last, “that they would tell you they do.” And that — not an accusation, not a denial, just that careful, terrible they would tell you they do — frightened me more than anything he could have said outright.
Chapter 10 — The Test