Her eyes, which had been cast downward, suddenly met mine, and I was surprised to find not the expected coldness but a swirl of emotions—confusion, sadness, and a hint of something else. She took a deep breath and, to my astonishment, placed a firm hand on my father’s shoulder, halting his tirade.
“Enough, Richard,” she said softly yet with a firmness that cut through the tension in the room. “James isn’t going to the wedding. He can’t, and you know it.”
My father turned, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What are you saying, Helen? He’s our son. He has to be there for his sister.”
