And failed.
Over and over, what returned to me was the memory of his eyes as a spark of life entered them.
“I've only seen her like that twice,” Father said, his voice raw, his face fallen.
After a day of travel, I wanted badly to crawl into bed. Instead, I lowered myself to a chair across the desk from him.
In that quiet moment, deep in the library gloom, I heard how deeply perturbed my father was. His look reminded me of my argument with Mother over what she knew and what I thought she knew. The look on his face was the same—the look of a person facing truths he or she didn't want to face.
He was barely aware I was there.
“When I met her at her debutante ball on Savannah, I was smitten by her charm and wit and beauty. She had it all—everything I was looking for in personality and p
