I heard my son offer to collect my private financial records, and every single thing in me assembled that fact into a picture of devotion, because devotion was what I expected from my children and what I had always received.

It did not cross my mind — it could not have crossed my mind — that the bank statements were not being gathered for me at all, that my soft-hearted boy was being used as a courier, and that my most private financial information was about to pass directly into the hands of the one person in the world my husband was dying to protect me from.

I went on to the linen closet, humming, grateful for my thoughtful son.

I have forgiven myself for that misreading.