Marcy replaced the sheets in the spare bedroom and organized Susan’s medication table.
The officer left after confirming once again that Susan was safe, mentally aware, and staying with me because she wanted to.
By evening, the neighborhood finally became quiet.
At 8:55, Greg stood near the front door.
“We’ll let you two have your usual time.”
I glanced toward Susan’s room.
For the first time since she had moved in, the approach of nine o’clock didn’t fill my chest with dread.
I carried her medicine inside.
Susan swallowed it, grimaced, then handed the glass back to me.
“Terrible.”
“You say that every night.”
“Because it tastes terrible every night.”
I laughed and pulled the same wooden chair beside her bed.
Susan studied me for a moment.
“Well?”
I looked down at my mother’s letter.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to confess tonight.”
