her home alone.
“You can sleep here on Tuesdays,” I told her. “While the volunteers stay with your father.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
“Positive,” I said. “We have plenty of room.”
On Daniel’s twenty-fifth birthday we had a small gathering in the backyard. Grilled chicken, store-bought cake, three members of the Saturday group who had continue reading …
