In 1979, He Adopted Nine Abandoned Black Baby Girls—Forty-Six Years Later, Their Surprise Shattered Everyone’s Expectations

Richard stepped forward, breath catching.
“They were left together,” Sister Catherine said softly. “All at once.”
“Nine?” Richard whispered, like the number couldn’t be real.

She nodded. “Nine baby girls.”
Their skin was deep brown. Their hair was soft and tight against their heads. One had a fist pressed to her cheek, another sighed in her sleep like the world was already exhausting.

“They’re sisters?” he asked.
“We don’t know,” Sister Catherine admitted. “No papers. No note. Just a basket on our steps and nine babies inside. A miracle and a tragedy.”
Richard stared at them like he was staring at fate.

“What happens to them?” he asked, voice unsteady.
Sister Catherine didn’t answer right away. Her silence did.
“People will adopt one,” she said finally. “Sometimes two. But nine…” She shook her head. “No one wants to take them all.”

Richard looked at the cribs again. He pictured strangers pointing, choosing, separating them like items on a shelf. He pictured nine lives starting together and being forced apart because it was “easier.” His throat tightened until it hurt.

“So you’ll split them,” he said.
Sister Catherine’s eyes looked tired. “We’ll do what we must,” she replied. “But yes. Separation is likely.”

The storm cracked outside like a warning. Richard thought of the empty nursery at home. He thought of Anne’s words pressing against his ribs. Then he heard himself speak before his logic could stop him.