“She told me during wedding planning.”
Emily’s head snapped up.
Margaret continued.
“You told me your older sister carried you out of a burning house. You told me it was the reason your family was so protective of you when you were young.”
Daniel stared at Emily.
“You told my mother?”
Emily’s face tightened.
“It came up.”
“But not me.”
“I didn’t want this story defining me.”
Margaret gave a small nod.
“That part I can understand.”
Emily looked relieved too soon.
Margaret finished, “What I cannot understand is using the story when it makes you sympathetic, then hiding the woman who paid the price for it when she complicates a photograph.”
Emily looked away.
There was no dramatic gasp from the guests.
No applause.
That made the moment feel more real.
People shifted in their seats.
Someone near the back quietly closed a program.
A bridesmaid lowered her bouquet.
The entire ceremony had stopped being entertainment and become something private that too many people happened to witness.
I turned my chair toward the aisle again.
“Daniel,” I said, “you don’t owe me anything. Neither does Emily. I’m leaving because I don’t want to be part of this discussion in front of everyone.”
He nodded.
