“I know,” he replied. “I just wanted to remember you like this.”
Part 2
One week before the wedding, Robert disappeared.
His truck was gone. His phone was turned off. No one had seen him.
Then I found a note on the kitchen table.
I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.
There was no explanation. No goodbye.
My mother told me to leave and let social services take the children. My friends agreed. They said I was too young to throw my life away.
But when I looked around the kitchen table and saw ten frightened faces staring back at me, I knew I couldn’t abandon them.
At the county office, a social worker warned me that ten children were too much for one person.
Even so, I signed the guardianship papers.