Something felt wrong.
A nine-year-old who had once gone looking for her brother every time she was afraid didn’t simply stop caring.
Somewhere between Luke writing those letters and Emma receiving them, something had gone wrong.
I intended to find out what.
—NEXT PAGE
Denise made calls.
Eventually, Emma’s adoptive parents agreed to speak.
Their names were Rachel and David.
They wanted to proceed carefully.
Denise suggested letting the adults work things out first.
I stared at her.
“The adults have been deciding what those two children can handle for four years.”
She went quiet.
“And what did that accomplish?”
A box of unanswered letters.
Ten failed placements.
Two children each believing the other had forgotten them.
“I’m not asking for anything reckless,” I said. “Make it supervised. Bring professionals. Put every safeguard you want in place.”
I leaned forward.
“But if Luke wants to see Emma and Emma wants to see Luke, then let those two children finally have some say.”
