Chapter 11: What Ian Owed

Ian's truck was parked outside my house when I got home.

He was sitting on the porch steps with his son beside him, eating a sandwich from a paper bag.

I stopped at the bottom of the walk.

"You didn't have to come," I said.

"You sounded like you were sitting on a staircase."

"I was."

"So I came."

His son looked up at me with crumbs on his chin.

"Hi, Aunt Maggie."

"Hi, sweetheart. Go play in the backyard. The sprinkler's behind the shed."

He ran, and Ian and I stayed where we were.

I sat down on the step beside him, and for a minute neither of us said anything.

"It's Shannon," I said at last. "Neil's been sleeping with my sister."

He didn't look away.

"How long?"

"As long as the album. Maybe longer."

"I'm sorry."

"I opened the door, and she was wearing his shirt."

I laughed, and it was not a good sound.

"I ironed that shirt, Ian."

"Maggie."

"I took care of her son. I took care of her.

"She cried on the phone about being alone, and I sent her money."

I stopped.

Ian said nothing. He put his hand over mine on the step.

It was warm and steady.

For a while I let it stay.

When I could talk again, I spoke to the lawn.

"I need to tell you something, and I don't want you to feel bad."

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