Page 97 of No Greater Love
"I'm sorry for calling so late," I said, my voice already shaking. "I know it's?—"
"Don't apologize. What's happening?"
My voice broke. "I need your help."
* * *
The morning of the hearing arrived gray and drizzling, which felt appropriate for what was probably going to be the worst day of our lives. I stood in front of my bathroom mirror at 5 AM, trying to decide between the conservative navy dress that made me look older or the black suit that made me look more professional.
In the end, I chose the suit. If I was going to watch the man I loved fight for his daughter, I was going to look like someone who belonged in that courtroom.
My phone buzzed. Text from my mother:
Mom
Praying for you all today. Remember, you're stronger than you know.
Somehow she always knew exactly what to say.
After getting out of the shower, I found him in the kitchen making coffee with the same methodical precision he brought to everything else. He was wearing his best suit—the one he'd worn to job interviews and Paige's school performances—and he looked like he was preparing for battle.
"How'd you sleep?" I asked, though the shadows under his eyes already gave me the answer.
"I didn't." He handed me a cup of coffee, his hands steady despite everything. "You?"
"About the same." I set the cup down and pecked him on the cheek. "Where's Paige?"
"Still sleeping. I thought... I thought maybe it was better if she didn't see us leave. She knows something's happening today, but not what."
We'd agonized over this decision for days. How do you tell an eleven-year-old that her biological mother is trying to take her away from the only parent she's ever known? How do you explain that after today, there was a chance—however small—that she might not come home with us?
In the end, we'd decided to tell her we had some "grown-up business" to take care of, and that Mrs. Swanson would watch her until Maya's mom picked her up for a day of fun and a sleepover. Normal summer plans, as if this was just another Tuesday.
"Mrs. Swanson should be here any minute," Nate said, checking his watch. "Maya's mom is picking Paige up around ten for their day out."
As if summoned by his words, there was a soft knock at the front door. Nate opened it to reveal Mrs. Swanson, looking unusually fierce despite her perfectly coiffed silver bob and floral cardigan.
"Morning, you two," she said, stepping inside with the kind of determined energy that suggested she was ready for battle. She looked between us, taking in our formal attire and obvious tension. "So today's the day that worthless twat waffle thinks she can waltz back in after eleven years and steal my Paige?"
Despite everything, a startled laugh escaped me. "Mrs. Swanson!"
"Over my dead body," she continued, setting her purse down with emphatic finality. "I've been thinking about this all night, and I want you both to know—if things don't go the way they should today, that woman will have to go through me to get to our girl. And I didn't survive thirty years of middle schoolers to be intimidated by some entitled princess with a law degree."
Nate's mouth twitched, the first hint of something other than despair I'd seen from him all morning. "Marion, I?—"
"No," she cut him off, reaching up to straighten his tie like a mother sending her son off to war. "You listen to me, Nathan Crawford.Youare that child's father in every way that matters. You've earned that title through sleepless nights and scraped knees and homework battles. Some DNA donor doesn't get to swoop in and undo eleven years of love just because she finally decided being a mother might be convenient."
The fierce protectiveness in her voice, combined with her continued use of "twat waffle," made my throat tight with unexpected emotion. This woman, who owed us nothing, was ready to go to war for our family.
Suddenly, the reality of it all hit me like a physical blow, and I had to fight down waves of nausea. There was a real possibility that we wouldn't see Paige tonight. That Sarah's lawyers and money and manipulation would win, and an eleven-year-old girl would be ripped away from the only family she'd ever known.
"We should go," Nate said, checking his watch. "I want to get there early, maybe observe the courtroom before..."
He didn't finish the sentence. Before the slaughter, I thought grimly.
The drive to the courthouse was quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Nate had spent the past five days researching family law, printing out case studies, preparing arguments that would probably sound amateur compared to Sarah's high-powered attorney. But he'd tried. God, he'd tried so hard.
"Whatever happens in there," I said as we pulled into the courthouse parking lot, "I want you to know that you're an incredible father. The best man I've ever known. And I'm proud to fight alongside you."
