” She came into the kitchen.Now I was confused and getting frustrated at not knowing. “I don’t understand.” My tone of voice showed my growing...level of frustration.“Watch your tone, Ron! Get your pajamas on. You and I will be going to the basement. Making us late and putting me, the boys, and the other parents out by missing the arrangements are not something you get away with in this house.”I stood staring at her for a few seconds, but there was no sense in putting up an argument. Once Edith. I wrote Megan at least two letters a week. In return, she wrote me at least as often. Her letters were precious to me. She often sent me pictures of herself and our daughter Shelby. Roxie was her unofficial photographer, so some of the pictures were quite revealing. I had a collage of the pictures she'd sent me scotch-taped to the door of my wall locker, along with the sentimental Valentine's Day card she sent me. The irony of those innocent pictures on the door of where I stored my weapons of. More

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