I was quiet all through dinner. Trust me—it was a long time for a ten year old! Mama, papa, and Mr. L (I do not know how to spell his last name) mostly discussed what was happening in the world, when Mr. L suddenly announced, well, rather asked if I would mind coming to live with him. Of course I would mind! What about mama and papa? This is my home! At this point, mama asked me to go to my room and warned me about protesting. Did I do something wrong?
I am listening at my door. The voices are faint, but still audible to my sensitive ears.
"What do you mean she is not my daughter?" That would be papa. He sounds a bit angry, but at least he is not shouting. He is gentle, but when he gets horribly mad, I am often on the receiving end of his frustrations.
"Ask yourself this: Did you have premarital sex with your wife, Amelia?" His voice! It is so rich and melodic! It is making me feel as if I've had too much chocolate…
"Why?" Papa again, although he sounds much calmer. "Is this true, Amelia?"
A whispered "Yes."
Again, Mr. L speaks, "I have come here for my daughter. I see you have taken care of her very well, and you need not worry about her safety and health with me. In fact, she will probably be even safer with me than anywhere else in the next couple years of her life."