A month had passed since we adopted Jennifer, and every day felt like a new adventure. She was adjusting slowly, still quiet, still a little hesitant, but I could feel the bond growing between us. Richard and I had waited so long for this moment—to have a child to call our own. Everything seemed perfect.
Or so I thought.
One night, as I tucked Jennifer into bed, she held onto my arm a little longer than usual. Her big, serious eyes locked onto mine, and in the softest whisper, she said, “Mommy, don’t trust Daddy.”
My heart skipped a beat.
I knelt beside her, brushing her hair gently. “Sweetheart, why would you say that?”
She hesitated, her little fingers gripping the blanket tightly. “He talks weird when he thinks no one hears him. Like he’s hiding something.”
A chill ran down my spine. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice calm. “Jennifer, Daddy loves you very much. He just wants you to feel at home. You know that, right?”
She didn’t respond, just curled deeper under the covers. Her eyes, though, stayed on me, filled with something I couldn’t quite name. Fear? Uncertainty?
As I left her room, I found Richard waiting in the hallway. His face softened when he saw me. “How’s she doing?”
I forced a small smile. “She’s asleep.”
He nodded, looking relieved. “Good. I know this is a big adjustment for her, but I think she’ll be fine. Don’t you?”
I nodded back, but Jennifer’s words echoed in my head.
The next afternoon, I was making dinner when I heard Richard’s voice in the living room. It was low, hushed. I paused, wiping my hands on a towel, and listened.
“It’s been harder than I thought,” he murmured into the phone. “She’s sharp. She’s noticing more than I expected. I’m afraid she might tell Marla.”
My breath caught. Jennifer might tell me? Tell me what?
“It’s just so hard to keep things under wraps,” he continued. “I don’t want Marla to find out… not until it’s ready.”
I gripped the counter, my pulse racing. What wasn’t I supposed to find out?
A few seconds later, his voice dropped lower, and I couldn’t make out the rest. Then I heard the soft click of the phone being placed down, followed by footsteps heading toward the kitchen.
I turned quickly back to the stove, forcing myself to act normal.
Richard stepped in, smiling. “Smells good in here.”
“Thanks,” I said, stirring the pasta a little too aggressively. “Almost done.”
My voice sounded strange, even to myself, and I knew he noticed the tension. But he didn’t say anything. He just walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I stood stiffly, my mind whirling.
That night, after putting Jennifer to bed, I knew I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I needed answers. I found Richard sitting in the living room, flipping through some papers, and sat across from him.
“Richard,” I said carefully, trying to keep my voice even, “I overheard you on the phone earlier.”
He looked up, surprised, but his expression quickly turned unreadable. “Oh?” he said casually. “What did you hear?”
I hesitated, searching his face for any flicker of guilt. “You said Jennifer might tell me something. That it was hard to keep things under wraps. What are you hiding from me?”
For a long moment, he just stared at me. Then, to my surprise, he sighed and set his papers down, running a hand through his hair.
“Marla,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’m not hiding anything bad. I promise.”
“Then what is it?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
A sheepish smile crossed his face. “I didn’t want you to find out because… well, I was planning a surprise for Jennifer’s birthday. With my brother’s help.” He let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted it to be a big deal, something special. I was afraid Jennifer would spill the secret before everything was ready.”
I blinked. “A surprise party?”
He nodded. “I just wanted her to feel truly at home. That she’s part of our family now.”
Relief flooded me so fast that I almost laughed. My breath came out in a shaky sigh, and I covered my face with my hands. “Oh my god, Richard. I thought… I don’t even know what I thought.”
He reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. “I get it. We’re all adjusting.”
I let out a nervous chuckle. “Jennifer’s just protective. She doesn’t know what to expect, and when she told me not to trust you, I panicked.”
Richard nodded, thoughtful. “She’s still learning who we are. We just have to keep showing her we love her.”
The next morning, I watched as Richard helped Jennifer pick out her breakfast cereal. He moved with so much patience, waiting as she carefully decided. When she finally chose, he smiled. “Good choice.”
Jennifer hesitated, then, for the first time, looked up at him with a tiny smile.
I walked over, placing a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to me, her eyes calmer than before. Something in the air felt lighter. A silent understanding had passed between us.
Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe she was home.
