I would have reached for the pen with a grateful heart.

That is the thing I keep returning to, the thing that frightens me most about the whole affair — how close I came, how easily it would have worked, how a single sheet of paper and a warm smile would have been enough to undo a lifetime, if my husband had not reached out of his grave the day before and turned on the light.

I looked at the pen Shirley had set so helpfully on top of the pages, and I understood that it was the most dangerous object that had ever been placed in front of me.

I did not let my face change.