.." Repeat after me, 'It is not my fault.'" But..." Say it, please, for me, for yourself." It's not my fault," she whispered."Say it like you mean it,...again, and again, and again."She did, over and over, until it became a mantra as I repeated it with her, changing the "my" to "your."With every repetition I could feel her relaxing a little bit more, sounding a little bit more confident, stronger, angrier. I took her hands and slapped the water with them with every "not," with every "fault,". I miss her, you, and even Lori a little,but my life is out here."Fred teared up a little. Some of the tears were from joy. His son waswell on the way to becoming a man. Those two and half months in Calisurrounded by his friends gave Luke the support to find the confidence tobecome who he was going to be. Some of the tears were from pain. Heblamed himself for the fractured family. If he did not downplay hiswife's petticoat punishment he would have been like Joe Jackson and knewsomething was. More

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