Here is where I have ended up, four years on.

I believed, for a long time, that I owed my daughter a complete family and that I had failed to provide one.

That belief is what put Pamela Gable in my kitchen and kept her there for two years past the point where I should have been asking questions.

I was not lonely enough to ignore a warning sign.

I was guilty enough — and guilt is a much better lever, and anybody who wants to move you will find it.

Our house was not incomplete.