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At eighteen, Anne Taylor Fleming fell for an older man. When the marriage later faced a crisis, she turned to an unexpected place for help: his first wife.
On a luminous, sunny fall day, I am sitting next to my husband, Karl, in a simple chapel on the grounds of a self-realization center in Pacific Palisades, California, a few miles from our home. In my lap is a stiff five-by-eight card. On one side it says, SANDRA SISK FLEMING MALONE, NOVEMBER 27, 1927-JULY 23, 2007. Underneath are three photographs of a handsome, smiling woman at different ages: 20-something, 50-something, 70-something. On the other side is a picture of her sitting with her four young blond ...