Chapter 4: White Roses

Leonard left for Philadelphia on Friday at six in the morning.

He stood in the bedroom doorway with his bag over his shoulder and watched me pretend to sleep.

"Leah, I know you're awake."

I opened my eyes.

"Don't do anything until I'm back. Please. Promise me we'll talk."

"I'll be here," I said.

It was the first lie I had told him in five years, and it came out easily.

He crossed the room and kissed my forehead.

His mouth stayed there a second too long.

Then the car service honked, and he went.

I waited until I heard the front gate close.

I got up, showered, and dressed in jeans and my mother's gold cross.

Then I walked into his study.

It was the one room in the house where he kept the door shut.

I had cleaned it once a week for five years, and I had never opened a single drawer.

I put the folder in the middle of his desk, square to the edge.

Inside were the papers, signed in blue.

On top of them I laid my wedding ring.

It made a small sound against the wood.

My finger felt strange without it, light and cold, and I rubbed the pale band of skin with my thumb.

I had written a note, and I read it once more.

I will not fight you for anything. Please sign. Be well. Leah.

It was not unkind, and it was not a lie.

I left it under the ring.

I took one suitcase and my mother's cross and the folder with my visa, and I left the rest of my life on the shelves.

At the door I stopped.

Danny's photo was on the shelf in the hall.

I took it down and put it in my bag.

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