I described the boys’ new shoes, their favorite breakfast, the way they called for him when thunder shook the windows.

I had written that I still loved him, and that perhaps love could persuade him to come back.

I read it sitting on the floor of the half-empty room.

It was not foolish.

It was the voice of a frightened young mother who had not yet learned how much strength she possessed.

For years I had believed that if I could persuade Brian to return, the boys would be safe.

Then I discovered that safety came from something quieter.