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“She’s alive.”
“No one is disputing that.”
“She’s moving. Her heart is strong. You just said that.”
Nadine touched my knee. I pulled away.
“Dear,” she said, voice low and sticky, “sometimes a heartbeat is not the same as God’s blessing.”
For one second, I could not speak.
Then every warning Quincy had given me lined up inside my skull.
Don’t let Grandma continue reading …
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