Grace remembers clearly the day, shortly after her husband Donald’s arrest, she sat in an eye doctor’s waiting room, hoping the receptionist wouldn’t say her name loudly enough for others to hear.
The crime had been splashed across television screens and news headlines. Everyone knows, Grace thought.
She tried to disappear into a corner, hoping not to cry. She dreaded the whispers and the sideways glances that might follow if others in the small room recognized her unusual surname. She would have canceled the appointment, but soon she would be uninsured—yet another consequence of her husband’s choices—so she stayed.
Grace, a social worker, never thought she would raise kids alone.
