At fifty-four, Lawrence has reached the end of the road. Most men in his position would have retired long ago. Some, the morning after their wedding. But he’s still thinking big. And to be fair, his nonprofit is an excellent idea with several sources of funding and great potential—that is, if he were conscientious or diligent. If he could focus. If he had leadership qualities. If he were a different man entirely.

The next time Lawrence speaks, he sounds despondent. “Cassie, someday soon you’ll marry a nice guy, have a bunch of children, and enjoy a happy life. I want that for you.”

“I don’t think I’m the marrying kind, Lawrence. Or stable enough to be someone’s mother. Girls like me . . .” I don’t finish. Better not to talk about girls like me.

He glances over. “Just don’t forget, okay? When you’re sitting by the fire, with your new family, don’t forget. Don’t forget we had a life together, once.”

“I could never forget, Lawrence. You saved me.”

“You saved me too, kiddo.” He switches off the TV; the room goes dark. “Let’s just sit for a minute. Let’s just enjoy each other.”

It is nice to be here, with Lawrence. His voice comforts me, and soon my twitching subsides. We used to spend hours in this room, just talking. No subject was off-limits. Like when I was ten and stumbled on my first Triple-X movie. I went directly to Lawrence and told him about it. I was all twisted up. He was uneasy and stilted. But eventually he found his words. “Grown-ups watch these videos together as a way to feel close to each other,” he explained.

“But they’re disgusting.”

“You may think differently someday.”

As the years passed, my questions led to more conversations, ones I might have had with Rachel if she were alive. Or Eleanor if she’d been inclined. Lawrence didn’t judge or get mad. He gave me answers, offered opinions, and told me stories. I learned about his brothers, whom he missed a great deal. About the bullying at Groton, which was relentless and devastating (his words). About money. About how he tried, so hard, to be a supportive husband and conscientious dad. The more I heard, the more I wanted to be just like him: strong and noble, loyal and honest. I loved that I was the one he chose to confide in. Admittedly, with Eleanor’s society schedule and my brothers away at school, no one else was around. Still, he gave me the greatest gift a father could give his daughter, even though I wasn’t his real daughter, and he wasn’t my real father. Lawrence made me feel less alone at home, and later, less alone in the world.

“We were happy, weren’t we, Cassie? We were a happy family once?”

“I think so,” I say softly. “But I’m not really sure.”

35