Now, at ninety-three, I sit in a comfortable chair by the fireplace and write these lines as a woman who has known both misery and real happiness. My beloved John passed away peacefully about five years ago, leaving me with a lifetime of warm memories.
I walked through a living hell, defeated a monster, and built a good life from the wreckage he left behind.
Every morning, I step out onto the wide porch of the bright home my husband designed for the two of us.
I look out over the waking town and feel grateful that my secret no longer eats at me. My life has taught me that even from the darkest place, a person can still climb out if hope is left alive in the heart.
My hands, lined and worn but still steady enough, carefully stack these written pages, knowing the truth of my life is now set down at last.
I do not feel shame for those twenty years of betrayal. That love was the one light that kept me from disappearing completely in the dark. Justice has a dry sense of humor sometimes, but in the end, it has a way of finding those who fight for the life and love that are truly theirs.
