“They died,” I said suddenly, grinding her travel fantasy to a halt. “My adoptive parents, the Johnsons, whom I loved very much. Both of them passed away a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry, Ronni,” she said. “I truly am.” There was almost as much sincerity in her voice as when she described her love of the beach.

“And before them, I lived with a family who kept me as cheaply as possible for a state check each month. They treated me like something stuck to the bottoms of their shoes. Then I was finally placed in a nice home, but my new mom died after eighteen months...” Deanna placed a hand very lightly on my arm, which I ignored. “Where were you? Did you not wonder if I was crying myself to sleep every night?”

Jocelyn contemplated her ashtray. “Look, I know you’re mad, Ronni...”

“Mad?” I fought the urge to slam my fist on the ratty recliner. “I was devastated. I was a little girl blindly longing for the worst mother in the world. I don’t know what I thought I’d accomplish by coming here, Jocelyn. I should have known you’d have no comfort for me.”

“I am your mother. You don’t call me Jocelyn. And I said I’m sorry. What do you want from me?!”

“Here’s one thing I want from you. I want to know who my father is.”

Jocelyn brushed at some invisible lint on her jeans. “I have no idea. I was a kid when I started using, Ronni. I’m not proud of it. My friends and I...well, we did what we had to do to get money.” She shook her head. “I didn’t take names.”

“You whored yourself out for drugs.” I felt Deanna stiffen next to me.

“I did what I had to do. I was addicted. My body needed heroin or pills or whatever I could get to keep going.” She leaned forward. “But when I got pregnant, I stopped, Ronni. My parents checked me into rehab and I stayed clean. I stayed clean for a long time, and you were born healthy and beautiful. You were the most perfect little baby...”

I swiped at my eye, determined not to cry in front of her. “So what happened?”

“My mama and daddy moved off to Mobile. They’d come to visit every month or two when you were tiny. I was doin’ good and they knew it. They sure loved you, Ronni.”

“And?”

“When they died, I fell apart. I ended up quittin’ my job―I was workin’ in a dry cleaners―and I started drinkin’. Just a little at first. I was goin’ to get another job, but it all got out of control and it was too much for me...”