Chapter 1
I was a regular middle-aged man, pushed to the edge by life.
On my thirtieth day of unemployment, I found a little girl abandoned on the street, on a bitter morning.
She was curled beside a trash can, cigarette burns still fresh on her skin.
"Mister, it's so cold," she muttered.
Her voice shook as she grabbed my coat. Those eyes reminded me of my son's, the day he was diagnosed with autism.
My chest ached. I couldn't walk away. I brought her home. I never imagined that decision would completely change my family's fate.
*****
The wind cut into my face as I pulled my decade-old coat tighter, wandering the streets with nowhere to go.
It had been thirty days since I lost my job, and thirty days pretending I hadn't.
My phone buzzed. It was the landlord. [Mr. Foster, rent's due next week. It'll be 1,400 dollars.]
I stared at the screen, hands trembling.
Only 100 dollars left in my account. But I owed 700 dollars for my son, Matthew Foster's, therapy. And 200 dollars each to both sets of parents.
That added up to about 2,600 dollars.
How was I supposed to come up with that?
Despite knowing it was a lie, I typed: [Okay, I'll pay on time.]
Near a street corner, by a trash bin, I spotted a small shape. It was a girl, maybe three years old, dressed in tattered, thin layers, her face purplish-blue from the cold.
When she looked up at me, her tear-filled eyes hit me like a punch to the chest.
"Hey, kiddo. What are you doing out here alone? Where are your parents?" I asked, crouching down.
She just shook her head, trembling.
Without hesitation, I took off my coat, wrapped it around her, and lifted her into my arms.
She was as light as a rag doll, but there was a strange odor clinging to her.
As I looked closer, I froze. There were several obvious cigarette burns on her frail arms.
"Let me take you to the police, all right? They'll help find your parents," I said softly.
She gave a small nod, clutching my collar like she was afraid I'd vanish.
At the station, an officer quickly matched her to a report.
As we waited, the girl dozed off in my arms, her face peaceful, just like Matthew's when he was little.
"Helga! You brat, where've you been hiding?" A man with a hard face stormed in, followed by a pregnant woman.
The girl woke with a jolt, trembling.
"Did you report this child? Is she yours?" the officer asked.
"Yeah, this jinx ran off and had us searching all night!" the woman snapped. She slapped Helga across the face.
Stunned, I stepped forward, shielding the girl. "How can you hit a child?"
"None of your damn business!" Dennis Clark snapped, yanking the girl's arm.
She burst into tears, clutching desperately at my coat. "No! Mister, help me."
"Wait a second." I blocked them. "This child's injured. Have you been abusing her?"
The officer's face darkened. "We'll have to investigate that."
Caroline Clark's face tightened, but she gave a forced smile. "Don't listen to that guy, officer. She's just clumsy and had a tumble. We've got a baby on the way, so maybe we've slacked off a bit..."
After a brief pause, the doubtful officer let us go. As we stepped out, Dennis leaned in close. "If you feel so sorry for her, why don't you take her home? We're having a son soon, so she's just a burden."
Helga's terrified expression made me tremble with rage. Then something in me snapped.
"Fine, I'll take her," I said, my voice shaking. "Let's do the paperwork. I'm adopting her."
The couple exchanged looks, clearly pleased.
"Her name's Helga Clark. Three and a half years old. Healthy as they come," Caroline rattled off, almost like she was selling a puppy. "Just sign here, and she's all yours."
My hand trembled as I picked up the pen. I could barely feed my own family. How was I supposed to raise another kid?
But the sight of those injuries covering her had hardened my resolve. I clenched my jaw and signed the papers.
The cold wind slapped my face, jerking me back to the moment.
What had I just done? How was Amelia going to react? And with Matthew's condition...
"Mister..." the girl tugged my hand, pointing toward a lottery kiosk. "Over there..."
I gave a tight smile. "Sorry. I'm out of money for lottery tickets."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled bill. "My grandma gave it to me..."
My throat tightened. I took the money. "All right. Let's give it a shot."
We used the money to buy five scratch tickets.
The first two gave us nothing. But when I scratched the fourth one, my heart nearly stopped. We'd won 3,500 dollars.
"W-We won!" I shouted, lifting the girl and spinning her around. "You're my lucky charm."
Her eyes lit up, and the tiniest, shy smile appeared on her face.
Only then did I realize that was the first time I'd seen her smile.
On the way home, I transferred the 3,500 dollars to my wife, Amelia Foster, and left a note: [Got a surprise bonus at work. Let's treat ourselves to a nice dinner.]
Then I looked down at the child in my arms. "From now on, you're Mabel Foster, the Foster family's precious girl. Okay?"
She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder.
I felt the warmth of her tears soak into my shirt.
"Don't be afraid anymore, Mabel," I whispered, patting her back gently. "I'm here now. No one's ever going to hurt you again."
But would Amelia accept her? Could we really give her a proper home?