“Nadia?”

“Hmm?”

Ellen pursed her lips, frowning slightly. Nadia had always been a difficult child. Ellen had never known how to talk to her, and always seemed to get it wrong. Still, she had to try.

“Sweetheart, when you called on Sunday, you seemed rather desperate about something. But you’ve done no more than drop hints since. Wouldn’t you like to talk about it?”

“Please,” she thought. “Please talk to me!”

“Ahh, I don’t know, Mom. I don’t know how you could help.”

To her horror, Ellen lost control. “I want to help!” she cried, sobbing, “You’re my only child!”

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