I told him I knew about the second policy. He pulled out a chair and sat down slow. He said he never meant for me to find out this way. Then he told me the woman was someone he had known years before we married.

They had a son together. He had been sending money quietly ever since.

I asked him why he never told me. He said he was afraid I would leave. He thought the policy would square things if he passed. His voice got low and he kept saying he was sorry.

We sat there a long time. The clock on the wall ticked loud. I asked him if he still sent money. He said he did, every few months. I didn’t know what else to ask after that.

He went out to the garage later and I stayed at the table. The papers were still there. I folded them up and put them back in my purse. I haven’t decided what to do with them or with any of this yet. The house feels different now even though nothing else has changed.

The table felt cool under my palms when I pressed down on it. I could still see the spot where Richard had sat, the chair pushed back a little like he had left in a hurry. The papers made a soft rustling sound when I moved them around. I don’t even know why I kept touching them. It was like I needed to make sure they were real.

He had looked so tired when he told me about the boy. “It was right before I met you,” he said. His voice was low, almost like he was talking to himself. “I thought I could just leave it behind but then she wrote me a letter about the baby.”

I had asked him, “Did you love her.”

He shook his head. “Not the way I love you. It was different. I felt responsible.”

The words hung there between us. I could smell the oil from his work clothes mixed with the coffee I had made earlier. It was an odd combination, like the garage had come inside with him.

We sat without talking for a bit. The only sound was that old clock and the occasional car going by outside. I thought about all the times he had gone to Fayetteville for work. How he would come back with stories about the job but never anything personal. Go figure that it was because he couldn’t.

He said, “I sent money for school and things like that. Never much, just enough to help.”

I told him, “I wish you had trusted me with it.”

He reached across the table but stopped short of touching my hand. “I was scared. I didn’t want to lose what we had.”