“That wasn’t God, Claire,” he whispered, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “That was your dad.” “I don’t care who it was,” I replied. “Just as long as you’re here.” “I don’t think my family thinks like that,” he said, turning back to look at the ground as we walked. “I think they wanted your dad to save Bethany.” “I didn’t,” I admitted honestly. “I wanted to keep you most of
