And somewhere out there, I believe with everything I am, that you’ll find this and know—absolutely know—that we’re the couple you’re looking for. Life is short and time is a thief. We would make every day something magical and marvelous for your baby. The place in our hearts and homes has been ready for years. I already wrote a song for our firstborn. Maybe I’ll sing it for your baby one day.
Thanks for your time.
Wendy had goose bumps on her arms the first time she read the man’s letter. She felt dreamy when he talked about taking his wife on their boat late at night and flying like the wind across the water, and she got tears in her eyes when she pictured him dancing with his wife on the front porch and catching a later flight for his business trip.
She giggled when he talked about hating exercise and she burst out laughing when he mentioned that Gus, the dog, would be willing to give up the crib when the baby came. The couple had the sort of marriage everyone wanted. Between their laughter and loving, they would give her son a dream life—the sort he could never have with her.
Guilt washed over Wendy as she finished reading it now. How could she even consider taking the boy away from a couple like that? But then . . . they’d been fine before adopting. They’d be fine if things didn’t work out, wouldn’t they? They’d still have the nice house and the fast boat, the laughter and love, right? They’d still have Gus.
Wendy sat back against the hallway wall and read the woman’s bio. It was shorter, but it had been the icing on the cake.
I’m Molly, Jack’s wife. I love theater and law and sunsets over the lake behind our house. I have a degree in political science and once, a long time ago, I wanted to spend my life putting away bad guys. That or work as a Broadway actress. Being a lawyer would’ve been a little of both, I guess.
Jack and I met at Florida State University the fall of my sophomore year. We were both cast in “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown.” He was Charlie and I was The Little Red-Haired Girl —the one Charlie has a crush on. I guess the rest was history. Well, not really. But after a few bends in the road and broken hearts, it was history. He’s always been the only man for me.
Our social worker told us to write about things that were important to us. Top of the list is high morals and strong character. Both our families believe in God, and even though we’re not big church-goers, we believe in living right—doing unto others as you would have them do to you. That sort of thing.
Jack and I always wanted a bunch of kids, but things didn’t work out that way. We’re hoping for a baby through adoption, the child we will love and raise and cherish all the days of our lives. We look forward to hearing from you.
Wendy pulled her legs up and rested the file on her knees. Again Rip’s words shouted at her.
I want him back . . . the sooner the better.
If that was true, she couldn’t spend another minute thinking about the nice couple in Florida.
She flipped the page, and there it was. The place at the bottom where she’d signed Rip’s name. How could she and Rip explain the forgeries any other way? A handwriting expert could tell, right? They could check and figure out that her signature and his were written by the same person. But if they had the right story, maybe no one would ever check.
She stared at the signatures. What had the social worker asked her to do? Take the papers to the prison and have Rip sign them, right? Her mind began to turn, creating lies, sorting through possibilities. What if she’d taken the paperwork to the prison and left it with a guard? And what if the guard gave them to the wrong prisoner? Maybe someone who didn’t really care for Rip? Then that prisoner might’ve read the documents and thought, why not? Why not sign someone’s papers?
By the time the paperwork was returned to the guard, the damage would’ve been done, right?
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