Arthur stood behind them, smiling faintly.

I studied his face and wondered when the smiling man had turned into the father who refused to open his own door.

“Did he love them?” I asked.

“I think so,” Natalie said slowly.

“But he made us feel like love and obedience were the same thing.”

It was an answer I could believe.

Love wasn’t a guarantee of kindness.

It was a feeling that had to become action, and Arthur’s actions had failed his daughter when they mattered most.