He wanted a divorce. Now, after all these years, when he needed me more than ever, he was divorcing me. I wasn’t sure I could go through with it, but . . . well, my eyes teared up every time I thought of it.

That thing men say when they’re cheating . . . that their wives don’t understand them. The real problem is, we do. And I did. John had said divorce to give me the last thing I wanted from him. When he’d taken my hand and said the words, something happened. He knew we’d failed at marriage, and he was letting me go.

Closure. They say you can never really have it, but here it was.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to file the papers, but my attorney had said we should discuss it. Financial reasons, that kind of thing.

Even if we did get divorced, I’d still look after him, of course. I wasn’t the kind of person who’d turn her back on a sick man after fifty years, no matter what he’d done.

We visited Rose Hill, and John hadn’t wanted to leave. It was a beautiful facility, and when I saw LeVon, I started to cry.

“I’m so glad he’s coming here,” LeVon said, hugging me. “I’ll get to see you all the time.” Gosh, what a comfort that was!

Janet was there, too, since she visited her brother four or five times a week. John’s face lit up when he saw her, and I had to shake my head. Leave it to that old dog to find another woman, even in his current state.

But I was grateful. I didn’t have someone else, of course, and I didn’t even know if I would ever want that. But for the first time in decades, I felt like my husband had really seen me and understood me.

LeVon had suggested easing John into life at Rose Hill, so one night, just before Memorial Day weekend and the big town anniversary, I drove John up there and got him settled, then left. It was harder than I expected, coming back to my quiet, lovely house.

I went out on the patio and thought maybe I’d call the girls, but then decided against it. Juliet had her own family, and I’d just seen her two nights ago at her place. Besides, this is what the future would look like. Quiet and peaceful, maybe a little bit lonely. But beautiful, too, out here on the patio, a glass of wine in my hand.

“You home?” came Caro’s voice.

“On the patio,” I called.

“I brought wine.”

“I already have some, but grab yourself a glass, hon.”

She came out a minute later and sat next to me. “How are you? Did it go all right at Rose Hill?”

“Oh, sure. He seems to like it there a lot.”