At my mother’s funeral, a stranger handed me a baby and whispered, “She wanted you to have him.” In that instant, my world shattered and shifted all at once.
Secrets I didn’t know, heartbreak I wasn’t prepared for, and a life I thought I had fully built came crashing down. And now, I had to decide if I could be the steady presence this tiny boy would need more than anything.
I used to think “home” was something you outgrow. I built a life where nobody asked if I was happy—they only asked if I was reliable. At thirty-one, I was a Regional Director, constantly traveling, always “fine,” and never letting anyone see me break.
Then the call came, and everything froze.
“It was a stroke, honey. There was nothing the doctors could do. It’s better this way… Your mom went with everything intact until the end.”
I blinked through the phone, the words hollow in my ears. I had built a life where nobody asked if I was happy.
I barely remembered the flight home. I kept counting my breaths like a mantra, repeating my mom’s name over and over, as if saying it enough times would make her appear. My fingers shook when I signed the car rental papers, and I gripped the steering wheel so tightly the knuckles of my hands turned white.
Pulling up to our old house, I didn’t move. The engine was off, but my hands refused to reach for the keys. I just sat, staring at the porch. The porch light, somehow, was still on even though it was midday. My mother’s green raincoat hung crookedly on its hook. I couldn’t stop staring.
My phone buzzed. I jumped slightly.
“Are you coming in, Nadia?” Aunt Karen’s voice came through, sharp even when she tried to soften it.
I pushed the door open and stepped onto the old path. My suitcase rolled behind me with a soft thump. I paused in the doorway, wanting—needing—to call out for my mom just one more time.
Inside, Aunt Karen was already moving fast. She held out a plate of lemon bars with a tight smile.
“Your mom’s favorites. Try one, will you?”
“I’m not hungry,” I mumbled, but I took one anyway, just so she wouldn’t worry. She glanced at the mug in the sink and immediately started stacking containers, eyes flicking over everything like she could fix it all by moving it around.
“You slept at all?” she asked, peering over her glasses.
I shrugged, rubbing my forehead. “It’s all a blur. I keep thinking I’ll hear her singing in the kitchen… or even the bathroom.”
Aunt Karen hesitated. “You want to sit down for a minute? Or talk?”
“I’ll be fine. We should just get through the day. That’s what Mom would want.”
“Always the strong one, Nadia.”
“Someone has to be,” I said, my throat tightening.
At the cemetery, Aunt Karen held my wrist tightly, squeezing every time I looked like I might vanish into grief. People moved past us, offering soft words that barely registered. My cheeks felt numb, and any attempt at a smile faltered before it formed.
Then I noticed a woman with tangled blonde hair holding a baby boy. She wasn’t looking at the casket. She was staring right at me.
I met her gaze for a split second and then looked away. There was something in her stare, something that felt like a question I wasn’t ready to answer.
Aunt Karen nudged me. “Let’s get through this, honey. The pastor’s starting the final service now.”
I gripped the edge of the program, trying to steady my shallow breath. The pastor spoke of sacrifice, single mothers, and quiet strength. I kept my eyes straight ahead, knowing that if I looked anywhere else, I’d crumble completely.
When the pallbearers lowered the coffin, the blonde woman stepped forward. Her pace was quick but determined. The little boy reached out and caught my necklace with sticky fingers.
Before I could react, she pressed him into my arms. My body responded on instinct, one hand on his back, the other supporting his legs.
He was warm and alive against me, tiny breaths hitching on my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, panicked.
Her face was pale but resolute. “She wanted you to have him,” she said, her voice raw and shaking.
“What are you talking about? Who is he?” I asked, my voice trembling but firm.
Aunt Karen hissed, “Give him back,” but I couldn’t. The baby buried his face in my neck. I held him tight, refusing to let go.
“I’m not passing him around like a casserole dish,” I said firmly.
“Who are you?” I demanded, looking straight into the woman’s eyes.
“I’m Brittany. I live next door. I’m Lucas’s godmother. I can’t keep him. I know his caseworker.”
“How?” I asked.
“I volunteer at the county family resource center. Your mom trusted me to help her with the paperwork when she started fostering him.”
I tightened my arms around Lucas. “And his mom? Where is she?”
“She can’t take care of him right now, Nadia. Kathleen asked me months ago that if it came to this, you’d step in,” Brittany explained, her voice gentle, but firm.
My pulse spiked. “My mother never told me about this.”
“She didn’t want to add more to your plate. She said you had enough to carry.”
I looked down at Lucas. His sticky little hands clutched my sweater, eyes flicking between Brittany and me.
“But I have a life… a career in Frankfurt. Not here,” I said, feeling a strange mix of anger and guilt.
“She trusted you, Nadia,” Brittany said softly.
Anger and confusion twisted inside me. “Why didn’t you just call? Why ambush me like this?”
“This was the only way. The only place you wouldn’t just hang up,” Brittany replied. “If there wasn’t a named adult ready to step in immediately, he would have gone into emergency placement by Monday. I couldn’t let that happen.”
Before I could answer, Aunt Karen stepped in. “Enough. Not here. We’ll talk at the house. Your mother had a plan… she just didn’t think I could manage a toddler at my age. She was afraid I’d protect you from it.”
I swallowed hard, holding Lucas closer.
Back at the house, casseroles filled the counters, and guests buzzed around offering condolences. Aunt Karen whisked people in and out, handing out hugs like party favors. I sank onto the couch, Lucas resting heavily against me.
Brittany hovered nearby. “You don’t have to babysit me,” I muttered without looking up.
“I’m not here for you,” she said. “I’m here for Lucas. Your mom saved him more than once.”
I pressed my lips together, tracing circles on Lucas’s back. “She should have at least asked me.”
“Maybe she knew you’d say no,” Brittany answered gently.
Lucas stirred in his sleep, pressing closer. “I’m not anyone’s backup plan, Brittany. And I can’t promise I’ll be the best fit for this baby.”
“Yes, Nadia’s home for now. She’s doing fine,” Aunt Karen called from the kitchen. “No, she’s not staying… not really.”
As the last guest left, I carried Lucas and his diaper bag upstairs to my childhood bedroom. Dust motes floated in the sunlight, old posters clinging to the walls. I paused outside the door, hearing Karen and Brittany in the hall.
“She can’t keep him, Karen. Nadia’s life isn’t here anymore,” Brittany said quietly.
“Just give her a chance. She’s tougher than she lets on… and she has the biggest heart I’ve known,” Aunt Karen replied.
Upstairs, I laid Lucas on my old bed and unzipped the diaper bag, letting my hands move automatically. Wipes. Diapers. Half a pack of crackers.
Lucas rolled onto his side, clutching a small blue bunny. He pressed it to his cheek and smiled.
“How long were you here?” I whispered.
My hand brushed against something taped inside the cabinet—a white envelope with my name, in Mom’s familiar handwriting. I tore it open.
“Please don’t be angry, Nadia. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was trying to give you a life that wasn’t heavy, baby. But Lucas is little and deserves more than what he’s been given. I’ve been fostering him because his mom can’t care for him right now. Give him a chance. Love him. Mom.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” I whispered to the empty room, letting tears fall silently. For a moment, I was that little girl again, furious, lost, desperate for my mom to guide me.
The doorbell rang.
Brittany opened it before I could move. A woman rushed in, hair wild and dark circles under her eyes. She froze at the sight of Lucas on the couch.
“Hey, buddy,” she said, voice wobbly, reaching out.
“Carly, we’ve talked. He’s okay,” Brittany said gently.
“I know he is… I just needed to see him,” Carly whispered, tears threatening.
Brittany held up a folder. “Kathleen wrote temporary caregiver authorization. CPS says it helps stabilize things until emergency guardianship is filed Monday.”
“So that’s it? You’re just taking him?”
“I needed to see him,” Carly said.
“No,” I said softly. “I know your mom fostered him, Carly. I’m not taking him from you. This isn’t forever. I’m just making sure he’s safe while you get help.”
“You think I don’t love him?” Carly cried.
“I know you love him. But love isn’t always enough. That’s why Mom made a plan with Brittany. That’s why I’m here now.”
Brittany crouched beside Carly. “You’re not losing him. You’re getting a chance to get better and come back strong. This is the hard part.”
Carly wiped her face, nodding fiercely. “I’ll get him back. I have to.”
“I’ll help you,” I said. “He’ll stay here safely until you’re ready.”
Aunt Karen appeared in the doorway. “What about work?”
“It can wait,” I said.
“My job will replace me,” I added firmly. “Lucas won’t.”
The house fell quiet. Lucas curled in my arms, eyelids drooping. I brushed his hair off his forehead and whispered, “We’re safe… all of us, for now.”
I held Mom’s letter tight and whispered, “Okay. We’ll do this the right way.”
This was home now. For all of us.
“We’ll do this the right way.”