small.”
I stared at him.
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“So George has been… giving me medicine?”
Dr. Harris nodded.
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“That appears to be the case. But that does not mean giving someone medication without properly discussing it with them is acceptable. You need to speak with him and confirm the history with your doctor.”
I drove home with shaking hands.
George was sitting in the kitchen.
There was an old wooden box on the table in front of him.
The moment he saw my face, he knew.
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“You took it somewhere, didn’t you?”
I placed the small container on the table.
“Forty years, George. What have you been giving me?”
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He closed his eyes.
Then he opened the wooden box.
Inside were old, yellowed medical papers.
My name was written across the top.
Margaret Miller.
I sat down.
George’s eyes filled with tears.
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“After our first child was born, you started having serious