ever repay you. But I’ll pay it forward. I swear I will.”
A warm breeze moved through the maple tree overhead, and the leaves rustled softly, almost like an answer.
I smiled through my tears and looked down at my belly.
“We made it,” I whispered. “We’re home, baby girl.”
Then I picked up the note one more time and ran my thumb across the last line in her careful, looping handwriting.
“And I know your name now,” I told my daughter.
“Mabel.”
