“I’ll take them.”
Sister Catherine blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“I’ll adopt them,” Richard said again, louder. “All of them.”
Her face shifted—shock first, then fear on his behalf.
“Mr. Miller… you’re alone,” she said carefully.
“I know.”
“Nine babies are a lifetime,” she warned. “It isn’t—this isn’t like getting a puppy. It’s bottles and sickness and school and—”
“I know,” he repeated, even though he didn’t. Not the details. Only the meaning.
Sister Catherine searched his face for recklessness. For ego. For performance.
Richard’s hands shook slightly, but his gaze didn’t. “I don’t want them separated,” he said thickly. “Not if I can stop it.”
Her eyes glistened. “Why would you do something so impossible?”
Richard swallowed hard. “Because my wife told me not to let love die,” he said. “And I have love left. Too much. I need somewhere to put it.”
For a long moment, Sister Catherine said nothing. Then she exhaled.
“This won’t be quick,” she warned. “Courts. Social workers. Home inspections. People will question your sanity.”
Richard nodded once. “Then let them.”
Sister Catherine looked at the nine cribs again as if she was choosing hope on purpose. She placed her palm against his. Warm. Steady.
“Then we’ll try,” she said. “For them.”
And in that nursery, while nine tiny girls slept under soft blankets and thunder rolled outside, Richard Miller’s life began again.
Part 2 — 1979–1981: The World Demands Proof
The social worker assigned to the case was Gloria Parker—sharp-eyed, no-nonsense, and impossible to charm. The first time she met Richard, she didn’t smile. Her clipboard stayed up like a shield.
“I’m going to be honest, Mr. Miller,” she said. “This is unprecedented.”
Richard sat across from her, hands clasped. “I figured.”
“You’re a single man. No parenting experience. No partner,” Gloria continued. “And you want to adopt nine infants.”
Leave a Comment