Eight months later
Stephanie looked down at her outfit—black slacks, a blue shirt, and a dark-blue cardigan. She’d never thought she’d dress in this kind of preppy style—or afford clothes of this quality. Her ankle boots were super cool, and she’d caught Tierney casting envious glances at them, which thrilled her to no end.
Over the last months, she’d visited the two homes in Providence where her former foster siblings had been placed. Watching them be well fed, loved, and cared for had settled something deep within her. In theory, she’d always known that most foster homes were decent, loving places where kids grew up feeling safe, going to school, and accepted as members of the family. The Brodys and some of the other ones Stephanie had endured didn’t represent most foster homes in the US. She had started yet another group on Facebook, where not only foster kids had access, but so did the foster parents who selflessly gave of themselves and their resources. It had grown into a vast, loving community, which Stephanie hoped would instill hope among the kids that hadn’t had the same luck as she had. The group also worked on a project to encourage people to sign up to be foster parents. Two of the ones who already had were Paul and John, the men who had helped Tierney when she was injured in her accident. The last Stephanie had heard, they planned to open their home to a four-year-old boy and an eleven-year-old girl.
Realizing that someone had entered the impressive, if also a little intimidating, office where she sat with Tierney, Giselle, Manon, and her social worker, Mrs. Crain, Stephanie went rigid as everyone stood, including Charley. The latter was present as Giselle’s service dog. After Tierney and Stephanie had trained the retriever for six months, she’d passed the service-dog test without a single glitch. Giselle found she could go places she never thought she’d dare to, knowing she was safe with Charley by her side. The dog would alert her if she felt her owner starting to display symptoms leading to a panic attack. Charley’s mere presence seemed to stave off most of those attacks as well.
Stephanie stood on unsteady legs. The system had screwed her over enough times that she expected hurdles and obstacles at every turn. This time was no exception. All this might be too good to be true after all.
“Hello, Stephanie,” a middle-aged woman wearing a black robe said and sat down behind the dark wooden desk. “I’m Judge Alicia Donovan. I believe this is a big day for you.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Stephanie said, her voice husky with emotions.
“I can tell you’re nervous, but you don’t have to be. Everything is already decided, and the only one who can change the outcome is you.” Judge Donovan smiled reassuringly. “I have one important question, and I want you to answer me with complete truthfulness. All right?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Stephanie heard herself repeat her words from earlier, sounding like a parrot.
“Giselle and Tierney Bonnaire wish to adopt you, which means you will be their daughter forever. In the eyes of the law this makes you their heir, and their child, forever. They will be required by law to provide for you and be responsible for you until you come of age. As your adoptive parents, they will make medical decisions for you as well. Naturally, I’m certain they will discuss most things with you ahead of time since you’re a young lady, not a small child. But you will be their child the same way as if one of them had given birth to you. Do you understand this point?”
“I do, Your Honor.”
“Excellent.” Judge Donovan smiled warmly. “Do you wish to be adopted by Giselle and Tierney Bonnaire? To learn from them and be their child in every way possible, legally and emotionally?”
“Oh, yes. I do!” Stephanie took Giselle’s and Tierney’s hands in hers. “Your Honor,” she added belatedly.
“Very good. Now I just need some signatures, and then the three of you can be on your way. Congratulations, Mrs. and Mrs. Bonnaire. You are adding a wonderful young lady to your family.”
“We know, Your Honor,” Giselle said. “We truly are the lucky ones.”
“I think the three of you, or four,” the judge added after looking at Charley, “are well suited to form a strong family unit. I wish you the very best.”
They thanked Judge Donovan and left her office. After walking through the corridors, they stepped out into the beautiful spring weather. East Quay showed its best side, the air fresh and new leaves adorning trees and bushes. Stephanie hugged her mothers, uncertain how she would ever be able to repay them for giving her a true family. But as she looked into their respective smiling faces, it dawned on her that she didn’t have to repay them at all.
That was what being a family unit was all about.