“No, Sarah. As soon as I realized the pain wasn’t going away, I stopped him. But he desperately wanted to finish your present. Tonight, he was only showing me how he wanted to paint the roof.”
My father covered his face with his hands.
“I should have told you immediately that your child was in pain. I should have understood that no surprise is worth more than his health.”
I remembered how I’d tried a pain-relief
cream on Ben a few times, assuming it was nothing more than ordinary muscle soreness.
I felt guilty, too.
“Then what did you mean when you told him to hold on a little longer?”
My father looked at me.
“Ben was trying to stand up so he could see the top of the little house. When he said his back hurt, I told him to sit down. Then I asked him to wait a moment while I put away the things scattered across the table.”
