My husband, Henry, walked in and dropped a stack of newspapers on the table. I thought I spotted a beer can hidden behind his back, but he quickly turned to face me, hiding his hand from view. I brushed off the thought as silly. I must have just imagined it.
“Hi, darling,” he said, giving me a kiss before heading to his recliner and flipping on the morning news.
I glanced at the newspapers on the table. Slipped under the bundle’s string was a small envelope. It was payday for Henry’s newspaper route, which supplemented income from the crops we grew on our farm. Inside the envelope, alongside the check, was a pamphlet about four pages long. It was there every week, but I’d never paid it any mind. Until…
