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the bed beside him, while Gerard pulled up one of the chairs. Retty and Claudine, completely ignored, had faded into the background.
    “Your grandmother,” Henry began. The pain in his voice nearly made Maggie wince. “Your grandmother never got a chance to see you, thanks to a lot of foolishness and stubborn pride. Not on her part, of course. She was too intelligent for all that. I hope your intelligence comes from her, and not from either one of us feebleminded men.” The tone was jocular, but the intent was serious.
    He turned his head slightly toward Gerard. “We’ve wasted a lot of important time over pride. I was too stubborn to call you myself, so I asked Helena to write to you for me. God knows what she said, but I apologize now if the silly girl dramatized everything.”
    “Father, I—” Gerard began, but Henry motioned for him to be silent. Maggie was amused to see her father shushed in this way.
    “Your father and I have quite a bit to talk about, my dear,” Henry told her as he squeezed her hand. “I hope you won’t mind if I ask you to leave us alone right now.”
    Maggie frowned. This wasn’t what she had hoped to hear. “Frankly, Grandfather,” she said, the name sounding strange even as it rolled off her tongue, “I was hoping someone would finally get around to telling me just why you and Dad have been estranged all these years. What on earth happened?”
    Everyone froze around her. Henry McLendon frowned. “Your grandmother died the last time your father was in this house. Hasn’t he ever told you that?” Suddenly he closed his eyes, and for a moment he looked so still and frail that she was afraid he’d died even as he spoke.
    Her heart thudding, Maggie whispered, “No, Grandfather, he never told me.”
    A faint spot of red colored Henry’s cheeks. He opened his eyes, and she breathed more easily. She didn’t dare look at her father. She had felt him draw away from her earlier when she spoke her mind, tired of the shilly-shallying.
    “You’re direct,” her grandfather said, regarding her with a small smile of approval. “But for now you’re just going to have to wait. Your father is the one who should tell you what happened, and I want you to promise you’ll wait and let him tell you. Not anyone else. Do you hear me?”
    “Yes, Grandfather,” Maggie said, taken aback at his insistence.
    “We’ll have time to talk later. But I want you to know that having you here at last makes everything worthwhile." He smiled again.
    Touched by this last remark, though still burning with curiosity, she leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the cheek, and he clutched her hand. Blinking back tears, Maggie stood up. Looking down at him, she wondered whether they really would have much time to talk. Seeing him like this, she thought perhaps that Helena hadn’t exaggerated in her letter. Now that she and her father were here, would he cease fighting and die, once he and his son made their peace? Or would he fight to stay alive to spend more time with his only grandchild?
    Overcome with sadness, Maggie moved slowly toward the door, where Claudine Sprayberry waited with Retty. When Maggie glanced back, Gerard had taken her place on the bed beside his father. His head bent low, he murmured something to Henry, who replied quietly.
    Claudine in a low voice told Retty and Maggie that she would go to her room while the two men talked. “Mr. Henry looks fine for now, but Gerard really shouldn’t stay too long. Sylvia will be up soon to take over. It’s nearly two. They should be fine until then.” She ushered the other two women out the door with her and followed them back down the hall to the next door.
    This, it turned out, was Claudine’s room, connected by an inside door to her patient’s bedroom. "It used to be a dressing room,” she told Maggie with a frown. “But they’ve made it into a really comfortable room for me.” Impulsively she touched Maggie on the shoulder. “I’m sorry I