Chapter 4

"But she'll never hear any of it now," Jim said.

Robbie's movements stilled for a moment. He swept a cold glance over my father's face.

Jim seemed lost in some private grief, his voice heavy. "Tomorrow I'm taking Selena's ashes and leaving the country. If there's anything you still want to say to her, you can find her at the cemetery on the west side of town..."

Robbie stood rooted to the spot, the overhead light washing his face pale. He didn't know how long he'd been standing there when the anesthesiologist's hesitant voice pulled him back.

"What did Dr. Hartley mean by that? Now that I think about it, I really haven't heard anything about Selena in a long time."

Robbie shed his scrubs, his expression settling back into its usual indifference. He hung the garment on the rack, his tone mocking. "A woman like her always had a flair for the dramatic. Though I do need to take tomorrow off—to go to the cemetery on the west side of town."

"To... confirm something?"

Robbie lowered his gaze, his tone even. "Don't read into it. Tomorrow's my grandmother's death anniversary. I'm just going to see her." He added, "I just hope I don't run into anyone irrelevant while I'm there."

But he was disappointed.

The next day, just as Robbie finished his visit to his grandmother's grave and turned to leave, he ran into my father anyway.

At the sight of him, my father's hand froze mid-motion as he was tending the grave.

"You came."

Robbie lowered his eyes to the small, modest headstone, his voice giving nothing away. "I didn't expect you'd actually go so far as to dig up a plot of land, just to convince me Selena is dead." He looked up. "So tell me. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"

My father was silent for a moment, then forced the words out. "Robbie, the one who did wrong all those years ago was me. Not Selena. If you want to hate someone, hate me.

"Back then, if I hadn't locked her in the house, if I hadn't stopped her from going to see you, she never would have missed the window to save your grandmother's life...

"It's all my fault. I'm the one who killed your grandmother. I'm the one who killed Selena..."

Watching my father's stooped back, I finally understood—these three years, he'd been tormented by this too. Eaten alive by it, day after day.

But Robbie just let out a cold, sharp laugh. "Shut up. You don't even deserve to speak about my grandmother. If Selena hadn't proposed what she did, my grandmother wouldn't have been left without a single piece of resuscitation equipment in the room when she stopped breathing! She's the one who killed my grandmother!"

My father's mouth opened, then closed. He staggered back, clutching at his chest. It took him a long moment to steady himself.

He closed his eyes and, in a hoarse voice, said, "The equipment had to be moved out of the room to make space for the surgery Selena had planned for your grandmother—that was the only way to guarantee it would go smoothly.

"That day, she tried desperately to explain it to me, and I refused to listen. I was so sure it was nothing but an excuse to go see you..."

Robbie crossed his arms, his tone flippant. "Enough. Stop making up such pathetic lies. Is this whole performance just to get me here? Well, I'm here now. Where's Selena? Bring out the murderer!"

My father's whole body trembled. His lips shook as he reached with great effort into his coat and pulled something out.

"If you refuse to believe a word I say, then look at this.

"See for yourself what she actually did—and whether it matches what you've imagined all this time."