sat up. “Okay, start at the beginning.”
Pulling her knees up to hug them, Melba let the words crawl out, small and vulnerable. “Well, you know Dad got pretty sick last week, and his mind sort of...short-circuited.”
“Good way to put it,” Charlotte sighed. “I always thought ‘dementia’ sounded so gruesome.”
“He said some things. One thing, actually, that was a big shocker.” Melba steeled herself with a deep breath, sure it would make the thing more awful to hear it spoken out loud. “He said...he said I wasn’t his.” There. She’d said it and not melted into the carpeting.
It took Charlotte a few excruciating moments to grasp what Melba was saying. “You mean, not his daughter? Biologically?”
Melba could only nod. It was so much more complicated than biology.
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