Chapter 11 - Veronica Asked If Her Father Wanted To Burn Her Mother
Children interpret adult actions literally.
That created one of the hardest conversations of my life.
Veronica asked me:
“Did Daddy want to burn Mom because he was mad at her?”
We were sitting on my living-room floor with her coloring books spread between us.
I answered carefully.
“Your mommy wanted to be cremated someday.”
She nodded.
“She told you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was Dad bad?”
There was no clean answer for a seven-year-old.
“Because he wanted it to happen too quickly for the wrong reason.”
“What reason?”
“He was afraid people would find the papers Mommy saved.”
Veronica thought about that.
“So he wasn’t trying to hurt Mom?”
“She was already gone, sweetheart.”
Her eyes filled.
“I know.”
I put my arm around her.
“Your dad did some wrong things. But he did not make Mommy die.”
That distinction mattered for Veronica more than anyone.
She loved her father.
Even after the chapel.
Even after hearing adults argue.
Even after seeing him taken away for questioning.
Children do not stop loving parents on command.
I refused to make her feel guilty for that.
At the same time, Christopher’s access to her became supervised while the court assessed everything.
Not as punishment.
Because his behavior around Bertha’s death—aggression, deception, trying to destroy evidence—raised serious concerns about judgment.
Veronica could love him.
The adults still had to protect her.
Both things could be true.
She eventually asked:
“Was I bad for telling you about Mommy’s skirt?”
I pulled her into my arms.
“No.”
“Dad looked scared.”
“That’s because you told the truth.”
She whispered:
“Mom said Grandma would know what to do.”
That sentence nearly destroyed me.
May you like
Bertha had trusted me after all.
She just ran out of time to tell me herself.
