“So, she had a job?” she asks after setting her glass down.

“No.” I look between the two of them, wrapping both hands around the chilled glass in front of me. “I . . . I’m not sure how my momma got money. I didn’t want to know, so I didn’t ask. We got food stamps, and the bills always got paid. I wanted to get a job to make some money on my own, but she didn’t want me to do that. She said she was the parent, and she would provide for me.” I take another sip of my drink, licking the tea off my lips. “She was very adamant about that.”

“What about your dad?” she asks, timidly. “Was he around?”

“No,” I answer. “I’ve never met him. I don’t even know who he is.”

Hattie looks over at Danny, and I drop my head, feeling slightly ashamed from that admission.

“You said you found a picture your mom kept of the two of us,” she says after a few moments of silence. I look up, and she gives me a weak smile. “You wouldn’t happen to have it with you, would you?”

I reach into the back pocket of my jeans, sliding out the old photo I stuck in there before I left Kentucky, and hand it over to her.

She brings the photo up to her face, her eyes instantly welling up with tears. One hand presses against her mouth. “Oh my God. I remember this. This was taken a few months before your Mom took off.”

She shows it to Danny, and he wraps his arm around her waist while they both study it.

“I found it in this old shoe box my mom kept our photos in. It was the only thing I took with me besides clothes when I got evicted from the trailer, but I never really looked through it until a couple days ago when I was missing her. I found that and . . .” I pause, gaining Hattie and Danny’s attention off the photo. “You two looked so much alike. Growing up, Momma never talked about her family. I figured if she had any siblings, she would’ve mentioned them. So, I thought maybe you were a distant cousin or something.”

“How did you know my name to search for me?”

I lean over the island, running my finger along the back of the photo. “Your names are on the back.” She turns it over, and smiles. “I got lucky. I really didn’t think I would find you on Facebook, but I had to try.” I look over at Danny. “What’s your last name?”

“McGill,” he answers, dropping a kiss to Hattie’s head. “This stubborn woman never would take my name.”

“And thank God I didn’t,” she teases, pushing playfully against his chest. “Beth never would’ve found me if I wasn’t still Hattie Davis.” Her smile fades when she gazes back at the picture in her hand. She stares at it longingly.

“Annie was always troubled. Even when we were little, she just never quite fit in. Not with us, anyway. She found other people, the wrong kind of people to fit in with. She took off when she was fifteen, and at that point, my mother was too tired to care where she went. I figured she would come back, maybe after a few months, but she never came home.” Her eyes reach mine, the sadness blistering behind them. “It was drugs, wasn’t it? It was drugs that killed her.”

I swallow heavily, dropping my gaze to my lap. “The paramedics said she had a heart attack, most likely brought on by whatever she took. I don’t know if it was too much, or maybe it had something in it.” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, I don’t really have any details. I couldn’t afford an autopsy to find out what exactly happened.”

Arms wrap around me from behind, squeezing me gently. “Oh, darlin,’ I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone. All of it. Please know, if we had known about you, we would’ve been there,” Hattie says against my hair. “I can’t imagine how hard your life has been.”

“It really wasn’t too bad until after she died.”

Hattie claims the stool next to me, covering my hand with hers. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I look from her to Danny, who seems just as interested in the life that lead me here as my blood relative. He’s focused, his eyes dilated in concentration as they remain trained on me.

I give him a thankful smile before looking away.

“There’s not a lot to talk about, really,” I begin, letting my eyes lose focus on the island. “I couldn’t afford to stay in the trailer after she died, so I started living out of my car.”

I take in a deep breath, thinking back to the first night I crawled into my back seat and tried to close my eyes. The noises in the dark. The utter loneliness that awakened a fear inside me I’ve never experienced before.

My chest tightens with emotion, but I mask it and continue.

“That was scary. I’ve never been alone before. Even though she stayed high most of the time, Momma was still always around, and we always had a home. Not having anybody to talk to was probably the hardest thing.” I look over at Hattie, watching the tears stream down her cheeks. I don’t want to cry, so I quickly avert my gaze back to the island. “I would’ve gone crazy if I sat in that car all day, so I wandered around a lot. I cleaned myself up in gas station bathrooms, and I kept moving my car to different parking lots so no one called the cops on me. I didn’t have a lot of money, just a wad of cash I found in the trailer before I got evicted. I tried to get a job but apparently, having an address is vital when it comes to employment.” I shake my head, remembering the looks on the manager’s faces when I told them my address was a McDonald’s parking lot.