Page 102 of Everything She Feared

Bothell, Washington

Marjorie Cole lookedthrough the window of her room at the Silverbrook Hills Senior Living Home.

“Hi, Mrs. Cole.” Bella Spencer stood at her open door. Marjorie kept it open most times. The hall traffic and occasional visitor eased the lonely days. Bella had her laundered towels. “I’ll set these on the counter for you.”

“Thank you, Bella,” Marjorie said. “Is Hetta here today?”

“I think she’s out at a meeting. Enjoy her absence while you can.”

“I don’t know why that woman is so, so, I don’t know what.”

“God wires us all differently.” Bella smiled. “I’ll check back with you later, dear.”

Marjorie gave a little wave and turned back to the window.

Her thoughts carried her from her wheelchair beyond the surrounding woodland, back years, back to a time when the highway rushed under her. She was sitting next to George, her husband, in their truck, her heart nearly bursting as they departed Montana.

She was sad to leave their friends and the life she and George had had in Great Falls. But a new life awaited them in Seattle where George had accepted a fantastic job offer. It was exciting, but Marjorie was anxious.

Tenderly she stroked their daughter Sara’s hair. Sara was seated between them. Watching her, Marjorie was convincing herself that the move would be good for all of them.

It would be a new beginning.

Sara flipped through the pages of a Dr. Seuss book,Horton Hears a Who!She’d been in their lives for more than a year at that point. She had come to them with a terrible history; and being her new parents came with challenges, but it didn’t matter. Marjorie and George were prepared to meet them.

Sara was their answered prayer and they loved her unconditionally.

Their love had arisen out of the painful realization that they could never have children biologically. The wait on adoption lists for a child was unbearable, and surrogacy was too expensive for them. Devastated, they had abandoned their hope for a child of any age when the stars aligned.

Marjorie had a close friend at their church. That friend’s uncle was a detective. He’d mentioned a gut-wrenching complex situation involving a little girl who needed new parents.

Calls were made to the little girl’s caseworker at Child and Family Services to establish Marjorie and George as a prospective adoptive family. Procedure was followed, forms were completed, and assessments and evaluations were conducted.

Marjorie and George received a summary of the girl’s tragic story from the detective, and it gave them pause. Then, at home in the evenings, George and Marjorie digested news reports they’d photocopied at the library. Reading them, Marjorie gasped at times. And early in the process the caseworker, having advised them of confidentiality laws, relayed details of the girl’s life that were unknown to the public. She stressed difficulties they could face as her parents.

Marjorie wept for the little girl.

“With this knowledge,” the caseworker had said, “would you like to withdraw your application? Or do you still wish to be considered?”

That afternoon, weighing their lives, George took Marjorie’s hand. “I see the answer in your eyes,” he said. “Heaven moves in ways we can’t understand. That little girl needs us.”

“And we need her,” Marjorie said.

In time Marjorie and George were informed they’d been selected to become the girl’s adoptive parents. They were overjoyed as the next steps in the process were set in motion, and they met with experts who advised them on what lay ahead.

“The child has fragmented memories of her early years,” one psychologist said. “And she’ll question you about her birth parents.”

The psychologist removed her glasses and continued.

“Her history and the truth about her birth parents belongs to her and she will need to know. That truth should come from you, her adoptive parents, to establish trust.”

The psychologist warned about the harm of lying or not telling her, guiding them on what, when and how to tell her.

“It’ll take time, you’ll need to lay the groundwork and plant seeds of truth at the appropriate ages of her life.”

Marjorie and George listened carefully as the psychologist, and later other officials, warned them about a crucial fact.

“As you know, the girl’s father is deceased and her mother incarcerated,” one official said. “The criminal court has ruled that there must never be contact of any kind between the girl and her biological mother, deeming it a risk to the girl’s safety. Therefore, all identities, all private information about the girl and her adoptive family, have been sealed and kept confidential, to protect the girl and her adoptive parents.”

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