Rebecca stayed beside her as the children rolled toward the gift table. I led Michael and Ray into the small kitchen behind the community hall. The moment the door closed, I turned on my brother.
"What did you know?"
Michael rubbed both hands over his face.
"Sarah-"
"No."
My voice shook.
"Eight months, Michael. I have spent eight months thinking that man kept my husband at his shop, that Daniel died because he was doing some stupid favor for people he barely knew. You stood in my kitchen while I said it. You sat beside me while I blamed him. What did you know?"
Michael looked at Ray. Ray said nothing. That silence forced Michael to answer for himself.
"Daniel called me that night."
I stared.
"What?"
"He left a voicemail."
The room went cold.
"You had a voicemail from Daniel?"
"Yes."
"From the night he died?"
"Yes."
My breathing changed.
"And you never told me?"
Michael's eyes filled. "I thought I was protecting you." The sentence made something inside me snap.
"From my dead husband's voice?"
"From everything."
"You don't get to say everything like that explains it."
"Sarah, you were barely functioning."
"So you lied?"
"I didn't lie."
"You let me believe something false."
He looked down.
"That's lying."
Ray remained near the door, shoulders tense, eyes lowered. Michael sat heavily in one of the kitchen chairs.
"Daniel asked me to help with the chair before he went to Ray."
I laughed once, but there was no humor in it.