51. NINEAH
NINEAH
THE VEHICLE in front of me that’d stopped in the pick-up lane to retrieve their child moved along and I pulled into the now vacant spot.
I’d been waiting on this day for what felt like decades, though it truly had only been a couple of months.
I’d passed my home inspection with flying colors, no doubt thanks to Abraham.
He’d all but completely moved out of the home months ago, but had insisted on finishing a few projects before I moved in, hence our encounter at the house last month.
Though neither of us had said as much, it was clear we hadn’t been ready to let go and for that, I was now grateful, seeing as I had a pristine home, ready for its newest member.
Doing a quick physical assessment, I was surprised by my lack of nerves. I was going to ask a very important question today and pretty much my entire life hinged on the answer. Even still, I felt nothing but calm.
A few moments later, one of the teachers along with a woman I recognized from the home inspection, exited the building, and a few steps behind them, a small fourth grader wearing the brand new pink overalls and cream sweater I’d gifted her during our last visit, hung back.
Gripping the straps of her backpack, she seemed focused, internal as she scanned the pickup lane.
But then her eyes landed on my SUV and Miracle Mae broke into a toothy smile.
Somehow managing to cut the engine before exiting my vehicle, I rounded the SUV just in time to be tackled by tiny arms and wild curls. “I knew it was you! I knew it! I knew it!”
My heart swelled so fully, for a moment I feared I might hyperventilate. “You did, did you?”
Miracle stepped back, bouncing on her toes. “Miss Amy says I get to go with you today. Is that true?” she asked, hopefully.
“It’s true,” I confirmed. The women stayed back keeping their distance, but I wasn’t afraid of being scrutinized anymore. The hard part was over.
“I have a surprise for you,” I said, opening the backseat door. Checking the seatbelt straps on her booster seat, I then took her backpack and Miracle climbed in. She buckled her seat belt while I stowed her things in the trunk. Then after waving to the women, I pulled out of the lot.
“What kind of surprise?” she asked, cautiously.
It was so like her. So like someone else I knew, my heart ached.
I flipped on the air conditioning to stave off the heat.
The DMV weather still had yet to decide if it was late winter or early summer and the days were a lot warmer than the nights.
Reaching into the center console, I retrieved a pouch of apple sauce I’d stowed there and passed it back.
Miracle accepted the snack and I answered her question.
“A good one, I hope. How was your day? You have art on Fridays.”
From the rear view, I caught her enthusiastic nod. “I’m painting something new,” she said, a mischievous little gleam in her eye.
“No,” I groaned.
“Yes!” She giggled. “The gryps fulvus! Also known as the Eurasian Griffon vulture.”
“Wonderful,” I deadpanned.
Miracle who thought that was the funniest thing in the world apparently, burst into a fit of giggles.
Over the next twenty minutes, we talked about her classes and friends at school.
There were apparently, only a few other students in her gifted program—a boy with red wiry hair she claimed smelled like cheese, and a tall girl with long, black hair who spoke fluent Cantonese.
So far, they were her only friends and while that hurt to hear, I listened intently without interrupting.
Several minutes later, we’d arrived to our destination. I helped Miracle out of her booster seat, grabbed my purse, and followed the directions the park director had emailed me.
As we came upon the nature center and planetarium, I recognized the sun-weathered gentleman with brown hair and a kind smile from his photo. Dressed in cargo shorts and hiking boots, he was prepared for our outing today.
“Miss Lawton?”
I nodded, reaching for his outstretched hand. “Yes. Director Brooks?”
“That’s me.” He smiled at Miracle who was shyly standing a few inches behind me. “You must be Miss Miracle. I heard you like birds.”
Miracle nervously looked up at me. I nodded.
“Most birds,” she answered, finally. “Birds of prey, tropical species, I’m also partial to flightless birds like Emus, but owls are my favorite.”
Director Brooks beamed. “Well we have quite a few owls that are local to the area, would you like to meet a few of them?”
Miracle gaped at him. “Meet them?”
The director chuckled. “That’s right. If you’d both like to follow me, we’ll head toward the conservation center.”
***
“THAT WAS HER, I knew it was her as soon as I saw her. Didn’t you see?!”
Turning onto my street, just in time to greet the reddish skyline that overlooked my home, I smiled. My heart had never been fuller.
“I saw,” I said, pulling into my driveway and parking in front of the house. Miracle, whose fingers were sticky from the ice cream we’d stopped for, peered out her window and frowned. “Miss Nineah, where are we?”
Hesitating only briefly, I turned to face her. “Well, we’re at my home. I live here.”
Her little brows furrowing together, she frowned. “All by yourself? But the house is so big.”
I nodded. “It is big, I guess.” I inhaled. Time to be brave. “But it’s nice isn’t it?”
Miracle nodded.
“Well, I’m glad you think so. Because I was sort of hoping that you might also want to live here… With me.”
I practically saw the connections joining in her analytical brain. Her serious expression was so similar to Abraham’s it would’ve made me laugh if I weren’t currently holding my breath.
“I-I don’t know if I’m allowed.”
A wave of heat rushed up my neck. “Miracle, I promise you the decision is one hundred percent yours. But just so you’re very clear on what is happening right now—I’m asking if you’d like to live here because I want this to be your home.
I want to adopt you. I’m asking if that’s something you want, too. ”
Her adorable brows knitting together, she turned the words over like she was trying to understand a foreign language. Her eyes snapped up to meet mine. “You want to be my mommy?” she whispered.
I nodded. “Yes, sweetheart. I do. But I don’t want you to feel pressured into this decision, okay? It will not hurt my feelings if you need some time.”
She frowned. “Will I have a daddy, too?”
“No,” I answered, truthfully. “It’ll just be me and you.”
She considered this. “Oh.”
“You can take much time as you need. But for now, would you like to see the house?”
Miracle nodded.
I helped her out of the car and wiped her sticky fingers, then we started for the house. Gripping my hand, her small feet skipping to keep up, she watched me intently as I typed in the code for the door and let us in.
Releasing her, I held up her backpack and placed it on the hook over the newly installed foyer cubby.
“Whenever you’d come home, this is where your things would go.
Backpack, shoes, then you…” I trailed off when I noticed she was no longer paying attention.
Her shoulders hunched, hugging herself, silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Oh, Miri baby. Come here. It’s okay.” I held out my arms and to my surprise she ran into them. My chest tightening, I hugged the sniffling eight-year-old. “We don’t have to do this now, honey. If you want to go back to Miss Scott’s, I can take you.”
“Is this real?” she mumbled. “I can live here? For permanent?”
Oh God. How did people do this shit?
I’d had her but a couple of hours and my heart already felt like it was being flayed and seared. How was I going to survive the evening let alone the next ten, maybe twenty years?
Wiping her wet cheeks with my thumb, I made her a promise. “If you decide this is your home, you won’t have to leave until you’re a grown up and you’re ready for a place of your own. I promise you.”
Miracle began to cry harder, her silent tears breaking into full, hiccupped sobs that wrenched my heart.
I picked her up and clinging to me like a koala, she expelled her pain.
I had expected to be prepared for this. After all, I understood her on both a visceral and an emotional level, but as I comforted this little girl, the one inside my own heart cried too.
For the father that hadn’t claimed me.
The mother that’d found herself in a volatile situation and had given me up to give me a chance.
For the child that’d grown into a woman and found and lost and found again.
I wasn’t sad for her. Not anymore. But I would never forget her, either.
“Mommy?”
Miri’s voice, small and tentative, was my new song of joy, I’d decided. I brushed my own tears away.
“Yes?”
“Can we see my room now?”
“Yes, baby. Of course we can.”