Philip Dampier's Blog

Episode 4

Mary Elizabeth spoke first.

“Hannah, is that you? Are you Hannah Willis?”

Hannah shook her head, confused.

“I’m Hannah, but my last name isn’t Willis. At least I don’t think it is. I go by Johnson, but that’s not my real name. I don’t know my real name.”

“Are you a foster child?” “Yes, Ma’am, I am. I live with the Johnsons.”

Mary Elizabeth’s heart skipped for the third or fourth time. “Was Billy your brother?”

“Yes, Ma’am, he was. Who are you?

“My name is Mary Elizabeth Willis. I think I might be your mother.”

“Mary Elizabeth? You look like me, but I think my mother must be dead or something.”

“Why do you think that, Hannah?”

“Because after she gave Billy and me up we never heard from her, and the Johnsons never talk about her as if she is alive.”

“I had two children; a girl named Hannah, and a baby named Billy. I had to let them… no, I had to let you go because I was sent to prison and couldn’t take care of you. I had no one to leave you with.”

“You went to prison? What for?”

“I was involved with your father, and we were caught trying to get some scrap metal so we could buy milk for Billy and baby food for you.”

“They put you in jail for trying to feed us?”

“Yes. Both of us had been in trouble before. Before you were born, and they gave your father twenty years and me ten. I was paroled after five years, and now I’m living here in town.”

Mary Elizabeth closed the gap between the two of them. She leaned down just a bit to be on a level with Hannah.

“I thought about the two of you every day since the social worker took you away ten years ago. I never thought I would see either of you again. I won’t see Billy, but here you are. Oh my God, he answers prayer.”

“

You prayed to see me?”

“Oh yes, night after night. I prayed that the two of you would be safe and have a good home, someone to love you like I did.”

Hannah stepped back, confusion from within showing on her face.

“He didn’t hear you if that’s what you prayed. No one loved Billy, but me and no one loved me but Billy and now he’s gone.”

“What about your foster parents, Hannah, surely they love you.”

“No. They only wanted us for what they could get. They beat us both unless we did what they said. They made us do terrible things. It’s awful. I wish I was dead like Billy.”

The tears came then. Tears long held back. Bitter tears of anguish and suffering and embarrassment.

Mary Elizabeth reached out instinctively and pulled Hannah into her arms. Overcome with emotion she too began to cry. They stood that way until the tears began to subside, then Hannah pulled back.

“Are you really my mother?” Hannah asked.

“I’m sure of it Hannah. Everything fits, and you look just like me at your age.”

“Can I come live with you?” Hannah asked.

Mary Elizabeth separated herself from Hannah and took a long look at her. She wasn’t at all prepared for the question, and the bluntness of it shocked her. Mary Elizabeth had to think about that. She had not come prepared to make such a decision. Would the court give her custody after all that had happened? If so, could she take care of Hannah on the salary she was making? Would a social worker approve of the small apartment she was living in? No way to find out on Sunday. Then some of what Hannah had said began to seep through to her consciousness.