"Mother said you had died, when I was just a baby."
"I had died, in a way. She had to make up our lives, after I came back from the war. It was the only way she could handle what happened to me, to us. I never blamed her for that. I left because I knew it was the only way to help her."
He could see that Barbara did not understand. He willed himself to live the minutes it would take to tell her so she could. He wanted desperately for her to understand, so she would not hate him, or her mother.
"Let me tell you, Barbara..."
She had so many questions to ask that she was afraid would never be answered. She let him speak then, without interrupting, though she wanted to, after every few words he said.
"Your mother was very beautiful, like you, when we married.
But perhaps you know, she was not really your mother."
Barbara did not interrupt, just nodded that she knew that.
"My wife raised you as if you were her daughter, and I can see she did a very good job. I saw that at other times, when I came to events in your life but turned away so you would not know who I was.
"Shortly after our marriage, I had to go off to war. I was injured by shrapnel in a trench in France. Mostly in the head and face. Before medics could do anything for me, my wounds were too severe. My face became as you see it.
"I was considered quite handsome, before the war. All the girls said so." He chuckled, but it hurt him, so he stopped, coughing. "When I returned home, your mother found it difficult to look at me. She found it even harder to sleep with me. She was a good woman, a devout Christian. It was very hard for her not to accept me as I had come home to her. I didn't blame her for not wanting to look at me. Or even when she didn't want to have me in her home anymore.
"That started me to drinking, and I found a friend in Jimmy O'Reilly because he would drink with anyone who paid for his beer. We never really became friends, but I needed someone to talk to and drink with. Nobody else would. But your mother hated him, and with good reason. He was a phony and a skirt-chaser, and even a petty thief, stealing from your mother.
"I call her your mother, but she wasn't, as I've said.