But at eight, gravely ill, frightened of the hospital, he did not need to know that his mother had bound her life to a stranger to buy his.

He needed to know that he was loved, and that the grown-ups had it handled, and that he was safe.

Those three things were true, and those three things were what I gave him, and I have never once regretted keeping the harder truth in my own hands until he was ready for it.

A mother’s first job, I have always thought, is to be the wall the storm breaks against, so the child behind her never feels the wind.

Chapter 7 — The Wedding