Chapter 8 - No Baby Belongs in the Cold
And it was Ethan, years later, running through The Blue Blanket Room with a stack of tiny knitted hats in his arms.
He was six by then.
The same age Talia had nearly been when their family cracked open.
He stopped beneath the sign and looked up.
“No baby belongs in the cold,” he read slowly.
Talia, now fourteen, stood beside Mara at the donation table.
“That’s right,” she said.
Ethan turned to her.
“Was I cold?”
The room went quiet.
Mara’s breath caught.
Talia looked at her mother.
Mara gave the smallest nod.
Truth.
Always truth.
Talia knelt in front of Ethan.
“For a little while,” she said.
His eyes widened.
“Did you find me?”
Talia smiled, though tears filled her eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Were you scared?”
“Very.”
“What did you do?”
Talia brushed a curl off his forehead.
“I brought you home.”
Ethan thought about that.
Then he hugged her so hard the knitted hats fell all over the floor.
Mara turned away for one second, pressing her hand over her mouth.
May you like
Outside, autumn wind moved through the trees.
Inside, the barn was warm.
