“Of course.” I took a sip, savoring the simple pleasure of a good bottle of wine.

We chatted about nothing for several minutes. She told me about their search for an Arizona house. Throughout our conversation, the underlying current of sadness floated below the surface. Fran, who’d always been proud of her appearance, had aged at least ten years since Mark had died, as had Howard. My heart bled for them, just as it bled for my children. We were all struggling to deal with our grief in the best way possible.

“How are the kids doing?” She’d seen them a few days ago, so she was well aware, but always hopeful, she lived for the day I’d say they were doing well.

“Not much has changed. Heath is noncommunicative and sullen except when he’s playing hockey. Hailey is the opposite, acting out and demanding attention.”

“I’m so sorry they’re going through this. If I could take on their pain, I would.”

“I know. We all would. Only time will heal the wounds for all of us.” If I had a dollar for each time I’d said those very words in the past three months, I’d be a wealthy woman.

“Mark’s life may have ended, but ours continue on,” she said.

“Fran,” I said, saying the one thing that’d been on my mind for the past month. “I don’t want to hold you guys back. Don’t stay here on my account.”

“You’re family, the only family we have left. We’re here for you because we want to be. Your happiness and the twins’ are our number one priority.”

I so wanted to be worthy of their devotion, but I also had to stand on my own two feet and find my way in this world. “I appreciate your concern. You know I do. I can’t let the two of you continue to sacrifice for me. I’m a big girl. Mark’s life insurance will cover expenses for a while until I get things on track.”

“I wish Mark had left more or that there was something we could do.”

“You gave birth to and raised an outstanding man who cared for us, made sure we didn’t lack for anything, and kept us safe. You’ve done more than most parents.”

Fran’s stricken expression caught me off guard. I searched my statement for something that might be upsetting to her and came up with nothing but confusion.

“Fran? What’s wrong? What did I say?”

Fran stared at the hands clenched tightly in her lap. When she met my gaze, her expression was guilt-ridden. “I never gave birth to Mark.”

“What?” Her voice had been so low I’d barely heard what she said and had obviously misinterpreted her words.

“There’s something you should know, something we never told Mark, and I live with that mistake every day.”

I frowned, and my stomach clenched as my imaginative brain ran through the possibilities. “What is it?”

“Don’t look so stricken. It’s not bad, just something you should know. Mark should’ve known, too, be we never found a way to stop perpetuating the lie.”