Chapter 37
Theo
Sarah found us on a wooden bench in the courthouse hallway, Debbie’s head resting against my shoulder while she quietly hummed something that might have been from Moana .
. . or might have been her own composition about dragon princesses saving libraries.
I’d barely touched the sandwich my attorney had insisted we buy from the cafeteria, my stomach too twisted with anxiety to handle food.
“It’s time,” Sarah said gently, her expression carefully neutral in that way lawyers perfected when they didn’t want to give anything away.
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and helped Debbie to her feet. Her serious shoes clicked against the marble floor as we made our way back to the courtroom, the sound echoing off the high ceilings like tiny hammers against my already frayed nerves.
“Daddy, your hand is doing the shaky thing again,” Debbie whispered as we approached the heavy wooden doors.
“Sorry, Button. I guess I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous. You’re the best daddy in the whole world. The judge will see that. She has to.”
Her confidence should have been comforting.
Instead, it made my chest tighten with the weight of everything that could go wrong.
Inside the courtroom, Linda Trubio and her attorney were seated in the front row of the gallery, both wearing expressions of grim determination.
Linda’s eyes followed us as we took our seats at the petitioner’s table.
I felt oddly exposed under her scrutiny, like she was cataloging every flaw that might support her convictions.
“All rise,” the bailiff announced, and the familiar ritual began again.
Judge Williams entered with the same measured steps as before, but something in her bearing had changed.
The warm authority she’d shown during Debbie’s testimony had been replaced by something more formal, more distant.
She settled behind the bench and shuffled through papers while the courtroom held its collective breath.
“Please be seated,” she said finally, her voice carrying easily through the space.
My heart hammered against my ribs as she reviewed her notes, each second stretching into an eternity. Beside me, Debbie sat perfectly still, her small hands folded in her lap like she was trying to be the best-behaved child in the history of courtrooms.
“This Court has considered all testimony and evidence presented today,” Judge Williams began, her tone carefully measured. “This is a matter that touches on fundamental questions of family, stability, and the best interests of a minor child.”
She paused, looking directly at Linda.
“Ms. Trubio, I want you to know that this Court sympathizes with your views and concerns. I am always focused, first and foremost, on the well-being of every child who comes before this bench. Nothing—absolutely nothing—is more important than that.”
My stomach dropped.
This was it.
This was where she explained why Linda was right, why traditional families were better, why I wasn’t enough.
Then Judge Williams turned to me, and her expression grew stern.
“Mr. Jamison, I must tell you that I am disturbed by just learning of your relationship and the fact that another man has been influencing your household without the Court’s knowledge during these proceedings.
I am equally disturbed that Children’s Services failed to report such a relationship to this Court.
This is a grave oversight, one I will address directly with the State following these proceedings. ”
I felt like some Samurai had just plunged his blade through my stomach.
Blood rushed in my ears so loudly I almost missed what came next.
“However,” Judge Williams continued, and that single word made me gasp for air, “this Court is tasked with examining evidence and the law, not assumptions, religious beliefs, or prejudices.”
She straightened in her chair, her voice growing stronger.
“The evidence before this Court shows a child who is thriving academically, emotionally, and socially. The evidence shows a father who has provided stability, love, and devoted care for four years as her legal, court-supervised guardian. The evidence shows a home where a little girl feels safe, valued, and cherished.”
My vision blurred as tears I’d been fighting all day finally broke free.
“Ms. Trubio,” Judge Williams addressed Linda directly, “while I understand your concerns, your complete lack of involvement in this child’s life for over four years, your failure to provide any support—financial or otherwise—and your inability to present any evidence of actual harm makes your objections as close to irrelevant as this Court can fathom. ”
Linda’s face flushed, but she remained silent.
“Mr. Jamison.” Judge Williams turned back to me, and for the first time since the lunch break, her expression softened. “Stand up, please.”
My legs felt like water, but somehow I managed to get to my feet. Debbie hopped up beside me, reaching for my hand with complete trust. Sarah rose and placed a hand on Debbie’s shoulder.
“By the power vested in me by the State of Georgia, I hereby grant the petition for adoption. Deborah Sarah Morrison is now, legally and permanently, Deborah Sarah Jamison.”
The gavel came down with finality that seemed to echo through my bones.
“Forever and always,” the judge added with a conspiratorial wink aimed directly at Debbie.
Debbie squealed and threw her arms around my waist, and suddenly I was crying—ugly, grateful, overwhelming tears I couldn’t have stopped if my life depended on it.
“She’s mine. She’s really mine? She’s really mine,” I repeated, over and over. “You’re mine forever, Button.”
“I was always yours, silly Daddy,” she said, her voice muffled against my suit jacket. “Now we just have the paper to prove it.”
Sarah was suddenly beside us, her professional composure cracking into a genuine smile as her arms wrapped around us both in a legally binding group hug. “Congratulations, Theo, to both of you.”
Behind us, I heard the sharp click of Linda’s heels against marble growing fainter as she and her attorney stormed out of the courtroom.
I didn’t turn to watch them go.
I didn’t care.
The only thing that mattered was the little girl in my arms who was now officially, legally, permanently my daughter.
“Mr. Jamison,” Judge Williams called from the bench, and when I looked up, she was smiling. “I have one stipulation on this order.”
My heart stuttered. “Your Honor?”
“I insist that you and Miss Deborah—excuse me, Miss Jamison—pose for a photograph with me in my courtroom before you leave. It isn’t every day I get to witness such an obvious example of what family really means.”
Relief flooded through me so completely I almost laughed. “Of course, Your Honor. We’d love that.”
Ten minutes later, we stood flanking Judge Williams behind her bench, Debbie perched on her chair wearing the judge’s spare reading glasses and holding the gavel like a scepter. Sarah captured the moment with my phone and quickly AirDropped it to the judge and herself.
It was our first image as father and daughter.
“Thank you,” I said to Judge Williams as we prepared to leave. “For seeing us, for understanding what we are to each other.”
“Mr. Jamison,” she said quietly, “love makes a family. Everything else is just paperwork.”
We strode out of the courthouse, Debbie skipping beside me and chattering about showing Sir Hornsworth her new adoption certificate.
I couldn’t pull out my phone fast enough.
“Sarah, can you watch Debbie for a minute? I need to make a call.”
Sarah gave me a knowing smile and nodded. “Debbie, would you like some ice cream? They have the really good soft stuff in the cafeteria.”
The moment they turned, my fingers punched the screen.
I had good news to share.
I had a family to celebrate.
Jeremiah answered on the first ring.
I was already bawling again.