My Husband Told Our Daughter to Keep Her Clinic Visits Hidden From Our Bank Account

Hannah sank into the seat and let her heavy backpack slide down onto the floor mat.

The canvas bag hit with a heavy thud, and a textbook spilled out onto the carpet.

“It isn’t algebra,” she said.

I shifted into drive and eased out of the pickup line.

“We’re going to St.

Jude,” I said.

“Dad said it’d go away if I just drank more water.”

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and turned onto the main road.