The judge reviewed the final findings.
The words were formal again.
Best interests.
Consent.
Legal requirements.
Permanent parental relationship.
I understood almost none of them because Alan’s hand remained locked around mine.
Then Judge Cole looked directly at us.
“It is the order of this court that the petition for adoption is granted.”
My heart stopped all over again.
“Effective today, Emily Bennett is recognized as Alan’s legal mother, with all rights and responsibilities arising from that relationship.”
She smiled.
“Although, based on what I’ve just heard, it appears the court may be somewhat late.”
Karen laughed through her tears.
So did I.
Alan lowered his head.
But I saw the smile.
Not a twitch.
Not almost.
A smile.
Full and trembling.
The judge signed the order.
The clerk stamped something.
People stood.
Someone handed me tissues.
Karen hugged me, then remembered herself before hugging Alan.
He surprised her by leaning in briefly.
His attorney shook his hand.
The judge asked whether we wanted a photograph.
Alan looked at me.
“Only if you want to,” I said.
Two taps against my wrist.
Yes.
We stood beside the bench.
I probably looked terrible.
My eyes were swollen.
My makeup had disappeared.
Alan’s hair had fallen over his forehead.
The judge held the adoption order.
At the last second, Alan moved closer.
His shoulder touched mine.
The camera flashed.
For years afterward, that photograph sat on our mantel.
People who saw it noticed the judge.
The document.
My ridiculous crying face.
Alan’s small smile.
But my favorite part was something almost invisible.
His hand.
At his side.
Two fingers hooked into the sleeve of my jacket.
Holding on.
Outside the courthouse, the winter air hit my face.
I laughed because I couldn’t seem to do anything else.
Alan stood beside me on the steps.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
I wanted to hear his voice again.
The desire was immediate and fierce.
I hated myself for it.
One word could become hunger so quickly.
I reminded myself:
Speech is not the price of love.
Not even now.
Especially not now.
So I didn’t ask him to say anything.
I didn’t ask why he had chosen that moment.
I didn’t ask whether he’d been practicing.
