Chapter 21: The Word

They had put him in a quiet room at the end of the corridor, with the blinds half drawn and one lamp on.

He looked smaller than he had on the boardroom stage.

I pulled the chair to the bed and took his hand.

Zane stayed against the wall by the door, with his arms crossed and his eyes on the monitor.

"You came," Dad said.

"I came."

"Good girl." His voice was a thread. "Did they clap?"

"They clapped."

"I thought they might. I paid for most of them."

I laughed, and my eyes stung.

The doctor had told me in the hall that it was a matter of hours.

My father seemed to know it already.

"Open the drawer," he said.

"Dad."

"The drawer, Hallie. I've been waiting a week for you to be in the room."

I opened the little table beside the bed.

Inside lay a thick brown envelope, tied with string, soft at the corners.

"Open it."

I untied it, and a dozen smaller envelopes slid out into my lap.

All of them had Maureen's name on the front in a man's handwriting.

They were Dad's letters and checks, every one of them returned unopened.

Across each envelope, in one line of neat blue ink, someone had written: We need nothing from you.

I recognized the hand.

I had been reading it on permission slips my whole childhood.

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