She looked directly into my eyes. And then at Melody.“I’m beautiful,” she whispered. Duh! Still, in all the time we’d known each other, I’d ...ever heard Lissa talk about her looks. “You don’t know how much that was drilled into my head when I was young. ‘You’re beautiful. You should be a model,’ was all I heard from the time I was six or seven. My parents didn’t push it, but they let Jack set up a few gigs for me. They absolutely forbade me to enter any beauty pageants. I think they were. I strolled up on the old porch that was littered with knick knacks. I knocked sharply on the door, to hear a grunt and the shuffling of feet.A aged crooked man wearing a greasy blue shirt and a John Deere ball cap came to the door. His hands were scarred and calloused, his eyes old and bagged, and he resembled a turkey with his hanging neck and stubble from not being shaved. This was Roy Tomlinson. Roy knew my dad, so it wasn't the first time we've met. He greeted me with a steady nod."Hello. More

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