She was doing it, at least in part, for me, because she had watched her father be quietly slandered for fifteen years and had decided that she was done watching it.

The child I had spent my life shielding had become a woman who wanted to shield me.

I did not know what to do with that.

I had never once, in fifteen years, imagined being on the receiving end of my daughters’ protection.

It had not occurred to me that I might need it, or that they might be strong enough to give it, or that being loved that way by the children you raised is one of the great and unexpected rewards of having raised them well.

Chapter 11 — Only If She Lies