Twelve Days After My Husband Died, My Neighbor Stripped Every Fruit Tree Bare—Then She Told Me Why

Added.

Grief convinced me love was finite.

A fixed amount.

If Lucas claimed Patrick as father, maybe Samuel somehow lost part of him.

If Brenda had loved Patrick, maybe my marriage shrank.

If Patrick’s past contained things I did not know, maybe twenty-seven years became less certain.

None of that was true.

Love can be complicated without becoming smaller.