Denise shifted her attention to Hannah. “Baby, I don’t know what she told you.”
“We went to the hospital,” Hannah said.
Denise froze.
“We saw what I paid,” Hannah continued. Her voice shook, but she kept going. “We saw the assistance forms you refused.”
Denise’s softness vanished.
“You had no right.”
Denise froze.
“I had every right to ask where my money went,” Hannah said.
I looked at her then.
Denise crossed her arms. “I was sick. I was alone. I needed my daughter.”
“You needed control,” I said. “Help is a ride to an appointment. Help is filling out forms. Help is paying a verified bill. What you wanted was a frightened girl with a monthly deposit.”
“You had her whole childhood,” Denise snapped.
“I needed my daughter.”
“You left her whole childhood.”
Her eyes flashed. “I gave her life.”
“You gave her a birth certificate,” I said. “Don’t confuse that with motherhood.”
Denise gave a bitter laugh. “Saint Ruby. Always waiting to take my place.”
“I never took your place,” I said. “I filled the one you left empty.”
Denise turned to Hannah. “If you walk out, don’t come back when she gets tired of you. Without your father, she’ll probably leave you.”
