“I stood right inside the entryway with my hand resting on the door lock,” Arthur whispered.

“And you never opened the door for them,” I stated, the terrible truth hitting me like a physical blow.

“No, I didn’t,” Arthur wept silently.

“Why wouldn’t you open the door?” I cried out softly.

“Stupid, stubborn pride,” Arthur confessed in misery.

“I had told her years before never to come back home.

I just couldn’t bring myself to take back my harsh words.”

“They were killed on that highway forty minutes later,” I said, staring at him in complete disbelief.