Martha lowered her head.
“Because I asked them to. I wanted to prove I could do it before telling you. I’ve made you so many promises and broken them that I was ashamed to make another one.”
“And what about the cigarette smell on the children’s jackets?”
“That was my fault,” she admitted. “At first, I was still smoking in the kitchen. They sat beside me, and I was so focused on my own struggle that I didn’t realize I was exposing them to danger.”
She took my hand.
“You were right, Sarah. I was setting a terrible example. And these children turned out to be wiser than I was. Instead of shaming me, they offered to help.”
Then I remembered something else.
“Martha, yesterday I saw you through the window holding a real cigarette.”
She nodded.
“Yes. Yesterday, I gave in. I lit one. But Jack came over, took my hand, and said, ‘Grandma, making one mistake doesn’t mean you have to give up.’”