I looked at my daughter.

“She has her own.”

Brenda smiled.

I did not want Maeve’s comparisons or Arthur’s family claims to be the first story told about her face.

She was a small person we were learning about, not evidence that somebody else deserved access.

I held her as long as the staff said she could remain with me, then let them take her back for the care she still needed.

That part was hard.