\u201cCaleb,\u201d she said, tapping the file, \u201cfinding those babies doesn\u2019t give you a shortcut.\u201d \u201cI know.\u201d \u201cThis process will be long. Checks. Visits. References. Questions you won\u2019t enjoy.\u201d \u201cI\u2019ll answer them.\u201d \u201cYou just buried your fianc\u00e9e and baby.\u201d<\/p>\n
My jaw tightened. Eleanor noticed, but she didn\u2019t soften.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat still hurts to hear.\u201d \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cThen I need to know something. Are you trying to adopt these girls because they need a father or because you need a reason to get up?\u201d<\/p>\n
The question hit hard. I looked down at my cracked knuckles.<\/p>\n
\u201cBoth things can be true,\u201d I said. \u201cBut only one of them can lead.\u201d \u201cWhich one?\u201d \u201cThey need safety,\u201d I said. \u201cSo, I\u2019ll be that.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eleanor watched me for a long moment. \u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d \u201cIt means I\u2019ll do the visits, the checks, and the classes. I\u2019ll fix what needs fixing. But I won\u2019t ask two babies to heal me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her pen stopped moving.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t want them to save me, Eleanor,\u201d I said. \u201cI want to be a home for them.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eleanor finally wrote something down. \u201cThen prove it.\u201d<\/p>\n
So, I did.<\/p>\n
I cleaned the house. I stocked diapers. I asked Julian to check what I had missed.<\/p>\n
I repainted the nursery. I kept it yellow because I couldn\u2019t erase Hannah. I could only make room.<\/p>\n
Months later, after no relatives were found, Chloe and Maya came home as my foster daughters. The adoption came later, once the court cleared it.<\/p>\n
I became Dad one mistake at a time.<\/p>\n
I mixed up bottles, wasted clean diapers, and learned how to shop for little girls.<\/p>\n
Years passed like that. Colds. School plays. Parent meetings. Two cakes because Maya wanted chocolate and Chloe wanted vanilla.<\/p>\n
After the case closed, Eleanor returned the towels. I kept them in a cedar box.<\/p>\n
I kept Hannah\u2019s photo in my wallet. I kept Nora\u2019s name quiet because I thought silence protected my daughters.<\/p>\n
Then they turned 15, and the secrets started.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re studying after school.\u201d \u201cWe signed up for a weekend thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
One Saturday, they came home tired and smiling too brightly.<\/p>\n
I stood in the kitchen. \u201cYou two have been gone a lot.\u201d Chloe opened the fridge. \u201cWe\u2019re teenagers.\u201d Maya grabbed a glass. \u201cYou raised us to be responsible.\u201d \u201cI also raised you to be terrible liars.\u201d<\/p>\n
They froze.<\/p>\n
For a moment, I thought they would tell me. Then Chloe kissed my cheek. \u201cWe\u2019re okay, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n
I wanted to demand the truth. But fear closed my mouth.<\/p>\n
Deep down, I thought I knew. Their adoption had never been a secret. Maybe they were looking for their birth family.<\/p>\n
I had promised myself I would never make them choose. So, I swallowed the question for three years.<\/p>\n
By the eighteenth birthday listed on their records, I had practiced losing them.<\/p>\n
I cooked their favorites: garlic chicken and buttery mashed potatoes.<\/p>\n
Julian dropped by with a cake and hugged them both. Eleanor called too, like she did every birthday. When Julian left, he wouldn\u2019t meet my eyes.<\/p>\n
That should\u2019ve warned me.<\/p>\n
After dinner, Chloe set down her fork. \u201cDad, we need to get something.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maya stood too quickly. They went upstairs together.<\/p>\n
I listened to their footsteps. When they came back, each carried one of the old towels.<\/p>\n
My chair scraped the floor as I stood. \u201cWhat are those doing out?\u201d<\/p>\n
Chloe laid the white towel on the table. Maya placed the pink one beside it.<\/p>\n
\u201cDad,\u201d Chloe said, \u201cplease don\u2019t hate us for what you\u2019re about to see.\u201d \u201cHate you? Why would I hate you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Maya\u2019s chin trembled. \u201cFor three years, we\u2019ve been lying to you,\u201d Maya said.<\/p>\n
My hand tightened around the chair. \u201cLying about what?\u201d \u201cWhere we were going,\u201d Chloe said. \u201cThe study groups? The weekend plans?\u201d<\/p>\n
They both nodded.<\/p>\n
I took a step back from the towels. \u201cDid you find them?\u201d<\/p>\n
Maya stared at me. \u201cYour other family,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Chloe\u2019s face folded. \u201cDad, no. That\u2019s not what we were doing!\u201d \u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d I said too quickly. \u201cIf you found something, I\u2019ll help. I mean it. I won\u2019t make you choose.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maya pushed the white towel toward me. \u201cThis isn\u2019t about leaving you.\u201d \u201cThen what is it?\u201d \u201cOpen it,\u201d Chloe said.<\/p>\n
I unfolded the towel. Something slipped from the folds and landed between us.<\/p>\n
Three plane tickets. Three seats.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
Maya said, \u201cWe leave in three days.\u201d \u201cWe haven\u2019t been back there in 18 years.\u201d \u201cWe know,\u201d Chloe said. \u201cBabysitting. Tutoring. Dog walking. Weekend shifts once we were old enough,\u201d Maya said. \u201cEvery dollar we could save.\u201d \u201cFor this?\u201d I asked. \u201cFor you,\u201d Chloe said.<\/p>\n
I shook my head. \u201cI can\u2019t go back there.\u201d \u201cYou can,\u201d Maya said. \u201cBut we\u2019ll go together.\u201d<\/p>\n
She pulled the pink towel closer. \u201cThere\u2019s more.\u201d<\/p>\n
I wanted to refuse before the room cracked open wider. But my daughters were watching me, and I had spent 18 years teaching them not to run from hard things.<\/p>\n
So, I opened it.<\/p>\n
A scrapbook rested inside. On the cover, they had written: \u201cOur Family Began Before We Could Remember\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n