“Be careful,” she said.
“This is not a jealous stranger.”
“You think Dad is involved?”
“I think someone close to him is.”
I wanted to defend him immediately.
Instead, I remembered his anger when I questioned the dates.
My Father’s House
Dad opened the door wearing an old sweatshirt and house slippers.
His hair was uncombed.
Dark circles rested beneath his eyes.
“Hannah has not answered me.”
The pain in his voice sounded genuine.
“Did I say something wrong?”
I stepped inside.
“Someone threatened her.”
