Part 3 Judge Miller removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
Judge Miller removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. For nearly a full minute he said nothing. Then he looked at the social worker, the state’s attorney, and finally back at me.
“Mr. Carter, the concerns about your age, marital status, and financial situation are valid on paper. But this court is also required to consider the best interests of the children—particularly the preservation of sibling bonds whenever possible.”
He glanced at the five children.
“I am ordering an expedited temporary placement of all five siblings into your care, effective today, pending a full review in ninety days. During that time you will receive weekly visits from Child Protective Services, and you will complete any additional parenting courses they recommend. If at the end of that period the reports are satisfactory, this court will move toward permanent adoption.”
The oldest boy’s eyes widened. His little sister stopped crying.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
The next hours were a blur of signatures, car-seat inspections, and quiet instructions from the social worker. When I finally walked out of the courthouse, five small hands reached for me in different ways—some confident, some hesitant, all of them real.
We drove home in my recently expanded SUV. The children were silent at first, staring out the windows. Then the middle girl, only four, whispered, “Are we really staying together?”
“Yes,” I answered. “All of us.”
That night I made boxed macaroni and cheese because it was the only thing I knew how to cook that five children might actually eat. They sat around my small kitchen table, legs dangling, and for the first time since their world collapsed, they laughed at something silly one of them said.
I stood at the counter watching them and felt the weight of what I had taken on settle across my shoulders. It was heavy. It was terrifying.
It was also the first thing that had felt right in years.