Two days later, Claire called me.
I almost let it go to voicemail.
But something made me answer.
“Hello?”
“Muriel?”
“Yes.”
Her voice was trembling.
“I know you probably hate me.”
I looked out the window.
“I don’t know you well enough to hate you.”
She began crying.
“I swear I thought Jim was divorced.”
I remained silent.
“He told me his wife had died.”
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, I couldn’t even speak.
“My wife passed away years ago,” Claire continued. “That’s what he told me when we started dating.”
I gripped the phone.
“Years ago?”
“Yes.”
“Then how did he explain me?”
She hesitated.
“He said you were his sister-in-law. He said you were helping him with the farm because his family was close.”
I felt something cold settle inside my chest.
My husband had not merely hidden me.
He had erased me.
Claire continued.
“I met him thirteen years ago. I was working at the nursing home. He used to deliver feed and supplies to a farm nearby, and sometimes he’d stop in to visit an elderly man.”
I remembered Jim’s stories about the nursing home.
He had said he was helping a friend.
“He was kind to me,” Claire said. “He listened. He told me he was lonely.”
I stared at the phone.
“He told me that too.”
She cried harder.
“I had no idea he was married. I didn’t know about you or your children. I didn’t know about the farm.”
I wanted to be angry.
I wanted to tell her that she should have asked more questions.
But I also knew that Jim had been lying with the confidence of a man who had practiced it for years.
“Does Tully know?” I asked.
“He knows Jim is his father.”
“And your daughter?”
“Ava. She’s eleven.”
I took a slow breath.
“Does she know about me?”
Claire whispered.
“No.”
I looked at the photographs on the table.
“Then we have a lot of children who deserve the truth.”
Claire was silent.
Finally, she said, “I’m sorry, Muriel.”
I didn’t forgive her.
Not that day.
But I understood that she had been deceived too.
And understanding made everything more complicated.
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