I swore she'd never go through what I went through." She laughed, a broken sound. "And then she went into care at four because I was using, and they put her in the worst house in Northampton County, and I didn't even know until she told me at Christmas. About the belt. She never told me before. She was protecting me." She finally looked up at him. Her eyes were June's eyes, enormous and gray. "She calls you Daddy."
"I know," said Sam. "I wanted to talk to you about that. If you want me to, I'll ask her to stop. It's your call. You're her mother."
Crystal looked down at her coffee for a long time.
"Her father was a guy I knew for three weeks when I was seventeen," she said. "He doesn't know she exists. She's never had anybody. Not a dad, not a grandpa, not an uncle. Just me, and I was..." She stopped. "When she talks about you at our visits, her whole face lights up. She tells me about Tripod and the bread and the checkers, and then she says, and Daddy's painting my room purple. And at first it felt like somebody stuck a knife in me. Every time. But then I thought, I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to be the mother she deserves. And maybe part of that is not taking anything else away from her. She's had enough taken." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Let her keep it. She can have two. A mom and a dad. Even if they don't live in the same house. Even if it's weird. Lots of kids have weird families. At least hers will love her."
Sam reached across the table, slowly, and covered her restless hand with his.
"Okay," he said. "Then here's what I want you to know. Gloria says if the home study goes through, June might come live with us in April. Until you're ready. That's the plan. Not instead of you. Until you. And when you're ready, when the court says you're ready, she goes home to you, and I'll drive her there myself. And then Nora and I will be at every birthday, and every school play, and anytime you need a babysitter or somebody to fix your wiring or somebody to sit with her when you've got a hard day. If you'll let us. We're not trying to take her. We're just trying to be there. That's all I know how to do now. Be there."
Crystal held onto his hand and cried in the diner on Main Street, and the waitress, who had seen everything, brought her a free piece of pie.
June came home to Locust Street on the second Saturday in April.