Yes, he needed to look at it like this. That going back to Montague House would give him answers. Be some final step that makes him whole again. He had tried just about everything else. Served on the board of the local Habitat for Humanity chapter. Started an after-school architecture program at an underserved high school. Yet no amount of charitable work provided a feeling of absolution. There was no path to redemption. Of course, there was one thing he hadn’t tried: confessing. But he couldn’t do it. Placing that burden on someone was selfish. He had altered enough lives. And, more important, confessing would expose Claudine. Implicate her, when she had only been trying to help. Only looking to protect him. He was willing to suffer if that meant she didn’t have to. That secrecy was why he couldn’t do AA. Step 5: “Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.” No problem on those first two. But to another human being? Impossible.

He wandered into the living room and stared at the black-and-white wedding photo that hung above the mantel. A lifetime ago. Their laugh was hard and real, neither looking at the camera. Her head thrown back, eyes closed. Her hair back then was long, wild with curls, perfectly tangled. He was holding his stomach, face full of laughter, his eyes closed, too, his head finding temporary relief on her shoulder. What was so funny? Had he said it or had she? Another memory lost.