” I replied. “Very much so.” She smiled, her expression sending bursts of warmth through me. “I just want you to know,” she started, “that...I want you – the fact that you are my husband’s own dad doesn’t and can’t change that.” She nodded once. “Good night.” she murmured then, turning and leaving. I tried to smile, but it was difficult. “I… I’m sorry.” I said, stopping her. She remained silent, still watching me. I’m surprised at how beautiful she looked. I struggled for the words that will. The woman who had given birth to herand had fed her at her own breast.“Oh mom, I’m so sorry….” she started, looking downat her mother’s exposed breasts that were reddeningfrom the pummelling they had received at her hands.Instinctively she reached out to touch one, to make itfeel better, but her mother flinched away as shereached out.“Oh mom, I’m not going to hurt you any more. I justwanted to make you feel better!”Slowly, cautiously, Bea dropped. More

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