Free Where My Heart Belongs by Tracie Peterson

of your own free will. You’ll never convince anyone that you didn’t have a choice, and here’s why: You assessed the situation and chose the high ground. You chose, for whatever reason, to do what the majority of people would say was the ‘right thing.’ You deserve credit for what you did, Kathy. Don’t say you didn’t have a choice in caring for Mom, because you did—and your choice makes it that much more special. You chose to give up your own plans and ambitions to care for your mother—our mother. I for one will be eternally grateful you did. It comforts me to know she didn’t die in the care of strangers.”
    Kathy considered her words but said nothing.
    “You chose to stay here with Dad, and when he got sick, you chose to care for him. You could have walked away. No one held you hostage here. No one forced you to remain. You could have taken your inheritance and left, just as I did. It was your right, but you took the high ground once again. You sacrificed on his behalf. You deserve praise and credit for that as well.”
    Kathy hated the truth that rang clear in her sister’s explanation. All her life she had found some degree of reassurance in telling herself everything bad that had happened was Sunny’s fault. That if Sunny hadn’t done the things she’d done, Kathy would have had a chance to live her life the way she wanted. Now Sunny was daring to say that Kathy had made her own choices—that the life she’d lived these last twelve years was at her own hand—her own decision.
    Kathy sat down and tried to force all the pieces of confusion back into place. Her mind felt overloaded with thoughts and images. “I’ve had to plan two funerals without you,” she finally murmured. “You have no idea how hard that is.”
    “Oh, but I do,” Sunny said in voice barely audible. “I know what it is to plan a funeral.” She looked down at her plate. “I had to bury my stillborn son. His father was no help. In fact, he was the reason my son was dead.”
    The shock from that statement assaulted Kathy from her head to the tips of her toes. “Good grief . . . what happened?”
    Sunny didn’t look up. “I was twenty and nine months pregnant. I’d married a very abusive man who had a drinking and gambling problem. None of which I knew before I foolishly married him. The first time he beat me was when he found out I’d kept a separate bank account after we were married.”
    “Why didn’t you leave?”
    “I made a bad choice,” she said, finally looking Kathy in the eye. “I’d chosen to marry an abusive man, and frankly I figured it was my punishment for having left home in such a bad manner. Every time he hit me, I told myself I deserved it.” Sunny frowned and looked down at her plate again. “But I knew my unborn child didn’t deserve anything of the sort.”
    Kathy didn’t know what to say. It was difficult to imagine that her sister was married and had a child. “Where’s your husband now?”
    “We divorced. Mitch was a gambler, like I said. He went through money as if it were his personal duty to deplete our bank account. He wouldn’t let me have any money. I guess he was afraid it would make me independent of him. I wanted to call home during that time, but he wouldn’t allow it, and frankly, after a time, I was too ashamed to call. I was just days away from my due date when things fell completely apart.”
    Sunny traced a pattern on the tablecloth. “I had managed to sneak money out of Mitch’s wallet over the months of my pregnancy. I knew I’d need things for the baby, and whenever he was passed out drunk, I’d take a little here and there. Never enough to make it noticeable, you know?”
    Kathy nodded, imagining her sister sneaking around, fearing for her life should her husband wake up and figure out what was happening.
    “I would hide the stash in different places. Mitch always tore through my things when he was desperate for money. I don’t know why he presumed I would