Two little faces were asleep.
***
Patricia had brought the triplets over twice that summer, and Mrs. Hunter had sat on the porch cooing at them while their mother proudly listed their names and birth weights like a drill sergeant giving a report.
***
“Noah? What in the world?!”
“It’s Daniel’s triplets.”
“Where is he?!”
“Gone.”
She glanced at the note, then at me, and pressed one hand against her chest. “What in the world?!”
“Honey, you can’t raise three babies alone!”
“I know!”
“You don’t even know how to warm a bottle.”
I let out a sigh.
My neighbor dropped to her knees beside me. I was starting to think she was probably right when the smallest baby reached upward, searching blindly, and wrapped her little fist around my index finger. It was tiny, warm, and unexpectedly strong for a six-month-old.
I stayed completely still. I couldn’t move.
