That made me smile. But then I noticed she had a sad look on her face. “You know, Sally,” she said, “I think I’d be afraid to be a mother. I don’t think I’d make a very good one.” “Hey,” I said. “I think you’d make a great mother.” “What makes you say that?” I pointed to my heart and tapped on it. “Because you have a lot of this. That’s all it takes.” “You’re like your dad, you know that? I mean, I know he’s not your real—” “Yes, he is.” She nodded. “Yeah, he is.” And right then I wished with all my crooked heart that my dad had been the man who’d fathered me.
