“You told me that your name was Meysey Hill. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. “Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. She knew it was to be a long night, and her stomach turned with the knowledge that Cathy and Larry Beck would be waiting to pick her up after the questioning, which meant they would be up all night despite the fact they both had jobs to go to in the morning. I would sooner see you in a ’bus again. Not fit to be dust on your boots. She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson.
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