Amanda covered it with her glove.
“It was a gift.”
“From whom?”
She hesitated.
“That is irrelevant.”
“Was it paid for from the account receiving my mother’s money?”
“No.”
The answer came fast, but her eyes moved away.
Daniel unlocked his phone again.
Amanda took a step toward him.
“What are you doing?”
“Stopping the next transfer.”
“You cannot make financial decisions in anger.”
“I made the original decision in trust.”
His thumb moved across the screen.
The details were too small for me to read, but I saw his expression as he canceled the automatic payment.
Amanda watched the motion as though he were closing a door in her face.
“This is our marriage,” she said.
“No,” Daniel replied.
“This is my mother’s heat.”
He called the furnace company from my living room.
It was Christmas morning, and no one answered at first.
He called the emergency number printed at the bottom of the estimate.
When a tired voice finally picked up, Daniel explained that an elderly woman had been without heat since November and said he would pay the emergency rate immediately.
He did not mention that the elderly woman was his mother.
He did not mention Amanda.
He simply gave the address and asked how soon someone could come.
Then he called the pharmacy listed on one of my letters.
It was closed for the holiday, but the automated message provided an emergency line.
He wrote down the instructions and placed the paper beside my Bible.
Amanda stood near the door, still holding her gloves.
“You’re performing,” she said.
Daniel ended the call.
“I should have done this months ago.”
“You thought it was already done.”
“Yes.
Because you told me it was.”
Her face tightened.
“I never said every dollar went directly to her.”
“You said she was comfortable.”
“I said she was being cared for.”
Daniel gestured around the room.
“By whom?”
Amanda had no answer.
He picked up the medical letters again and asked me to explain each one.
I told him about the prescription I had started cutting in half.
I told him about the appointment I canceled because I could not pay the balance from the previous visit.
I told him how I heated soup in the afternoon and left the oven door open for a few minutes afterward, even though I knew it was unsafe.
Each detail seemed to strike him separately.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked.
I looked toward Amanda before I could stop myself.
Daniel saw it.
She saw it too.
Amanda’s voice rose.
“Oh, please.
I did not imprison her.
