She hesitated.
“You said you never understood how some parents could be so careless with little ones.”
I searched my memory.
Then I remembered.
We’d been discussing a television report about children being injured in preventable household accidents. I’d made a thoughtless comment, never imagining how it might sound months later.
“Megan, I wasn’t talking about you.”
“I know that now.”
“But you thought I would judge you because of something I said before Finn was born?”
“Not just that,” she said. “After the accident, I kept hearing my mother’s voice. Then I’d remember yours. I couldn’t stop imagining you looking at me differently.”
I sat quietly.
For nine months, I’d believed Megan disliked me.
I’d thought she wanted to keep Finn to herself.
Now I was hearing that she’d been afraid of me.
Not because I’d done anything to her directly, but because she’d built an image of how I would react.
