But the moral truth was sitting in front of us without any need for a verdict.

I thought of the nights June had asked whether her father knew her name.

“You were angry I kept the houses,” I told Margaret.

“So you helped keep a child from knowing her father?”

Tears filled Margaret’s eyes.

I did not feel better seeing them.

“I thought it would pass,” she whispered.

“Seven years don’t pass,” I said.