Ida's shadow rose erect, and her black-eyed gaze, calm as the eye of the hurricane, rested on Geneva's face. 'Who's the father?" Geneva gripped the sheets more tightly, her eyes blurring, her mind struggling to imagine the consequences of answering her question. Victor was in the war. The children were in Massachusetts. Her mind could focus no better than her eyes. Her whole body seized up as another wave of pain engulfed her. 'He can be...
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