“Is Dad mad at me?” Grace asked softly.

“No, honey,” I said.

“He’s just worried about his work meetings.”

Grace turned her head on the pillow and watched my left hand.

I twisted my silver wedding band around my finger, pulling it up to the knuckle and sliding it back down.

“I tried to run volleyball drills on Tuesday,” Grace whispered.

“Every time I jumped for a serve, my lower side felt like it was tearing.”

“Why didn’t you tell the coach, Grace?” I asked.