Paul was very uplifting, even when I was hard to encourage. I laid in bed that night, thinking about him. He never brought up what had happened to me unless he couldn't avoid it, and I think that's what helped me the most. I could tell there was something he was dying to ask me though, and it was eating away at him.

~~~

On Monday it was cloudy and rainy and we were stuck inside all day. He kept almost asking me, but then reconsidering and leaving me in silence on the couch.

Finally I spoke up. "What is it?"

"I...I'm just confused as to why he would want to hurt you. Did... Did you do something wrong?"

I had been dreading that question. "We...we had a daughter... a baby girl... Heather...... Jake had gotten heavily into drugs and...one night, while I was cooking dinner, he went to the pub and... and when I called Heather, she...she didn't answer," I stopped an took a deep breath, trying to smooth the lump growing in my throat. Paul could see where I was going with this. "I found her in his room, unresponsive. She...she found the bottle and...." I couldn't go on.

He sat down next to me. "Linda, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," He folded his arms around me and I let it all out. I cried so hard I couldn't see past my swollen eyelids. I buried my face in his shoulder and he rubbed my back in an attempt to calm me down. It wasn't his fault for wondering. I had asked him what it was. I wanted to tell him that but I couldn't form coherent words.

"Did...did he think..." He didn't want to finish his sentence. I nodded, but I kind of just jabbed his shoulder with my chin.

After twenty minutes of sitting there like that, I finally calmed down enough so I could speak. "Thank you," I whispered.