What was she going to do? If there were only Andrea and Melissa to consider, the answer would be easy. When Wes was around, they were quiet and withdrawn, always wary of sudden swats that signaled they had done something—who knew what—that he considered wrong.
But there was also Tina. Betty moved to the crib where her three-year-old slept soundly. She smiled at the round-faced child with the short brown curls framing her face. Physically, Tina looked much like the pictures of Betty when she was that age. But Betty could only wonder at the way her daughter met life, at her bright smile and the confident way she ran into her parents’ arms, always certain of acceptance and love.
Tina was Wes’s favorite, the one he let climb in his lap, the one he listened to with patience, the one who made him smile. Every evening since Betty had made him leave, Tina went to the window and watched for him, asking over and over, "Where's Daddy? When's he coming home?"
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