That sentence hit me like a fist.
I finally managed to speak. “How? Why? Who are you?”
Thomas adjusted Destiny’s blanket so I could see her face clearly. She slept peacefully, impossibly small, her mouth slightly open like she was still learning how to exist in air.
“I volunteer at County General,” Thomas said. “I sit with patients who are dying and alone. I hold their hands so they do not leave this world without someone beside them.”
He took a breath, and his voice shook slightly when he said Ellie’s name.
“Ellie was alone,” he continued. “Her family would not come. You were not allowed to. The volunteer coordinator called me. I arrived two hours before she passed.”
My hand pressed to the glass without thinking.
“Was she terrified?” I asked.
Thomas swallowed hard. “She was worried about the baby,” he said softly. “And about you. She didn’t talk about herself. She talked about you. She kept saying your name like it was a prayer.”
My chest cracked.
Thomas looked down at Destiny again.
“She made me promise to keep her daughter out of foster care,” he said. “She said she knew what the system had done to you. She begged me not to let it happen to Destiny.”
I stared at him, my brain refusing to accept the shape of what he was saying.
“You promised a dying woman you would raise her child?” I whispered.
Thomas’s eyes didn’t waver.
“I promised a mother I would protect her child,” he said. “That is what a man is supposed to do.”
Then he added, almost dryly, “CPS did not want to release her to me. I am nearly seventy, single, and I ride a motorcycle. I am not the kind of person they usually trust with an infant.”
“So how did you get custody?” I asked, voice cracking.
Thomas leaned back slightly, as if remembering a fight he’d already survived.
“I gathered forty-three people to vouch for me,” he said. “I hired an attorney. I completed every background check, home evaluation, and parenting class they required.”
He gave a faint smile, like it was almost funny in a bitter way.
“After six weeks, they granted me emergency foster custody. I assured the court I would bring Destiny to see you every week until your release.”
Every week.
Until my release.
I couldn’t comprehend that kind of commitment. People didn’t do that for me. They never had.
“Why?” I asked quietly. “You don’t know me.”
Thomas looked directly at me.
“Because half a century ago,” he said, “I lived what you are living.”
The visitation room seemed to tilt.
Thomas’s voice lowered.
continued on next page
For complete cooking times, go to the next page or click the Open button (>), and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
