Chapter 1: The Girl on the Church Steps
I found a little girl abandoned outside the church — hours later, I looked inside her backpack and said, "Dave.
What is this?"
I found the little girl sitting alone on the church steps after Easter service.
She couldn't have been older than five.
An Easter basket sat beside her, but there wasn't an adult anywhere near her.
"Hey there.
Are you waiting for someone?"
"My daddy.
Mama said he'd be here to get me."
My stomach tightened.
Before I could ask anything else, my MIL, Cynthia, appeared behind me.
"There you are!
What on earth are you doing?
We're all waiting in the car!"
I explained that the girl was waiting for her father and suggested we tell the priest.
But Cynthia didn't just disagree.
She seemed determined to pull me away from that little girl.
"And don't even think about getting involved.
You're not bringing some stranger's child into someone's clean home on Easter Sunday."
I stared at her.
"She's not a kitten.
She's a child.
Alone.
I'm not leaving her here."
"You will not.
This is my house.
I decide who walks through my door."
"Then Dave and I will get a hotel."
The girl's name was Ava.
When my husband finally came outside, I expected another argument.
Instead, Dave looked at Ava and said calmly, "It's fine.
She can come with us."
Cynthia wasn't happy about it, but eventually, we all went inside.
Dave tried to smooth things over, making tea and chatting about traffic, while Ava sat quietly at the table drawing.
I leaned over.
"That's beautiful.
Who is it?"
She held up the drawing — a man, a woman, and a little girl holding hands.
The man had brown hair and green eyes.
Just like Dave.
I stared at the drawing a moment longer than I should have.
"You like drawing your mom and dad?"
She nodded.
"Sometimes I dream about them.
Together."
I didn't know what to make of that.
I got up and went to the guest room where we'd left her backpack.
I needed to find her toothbrush.
Or clean socks.
Or anything — just something to do with my hands.
I unzipped the side pocket.
A photograph slipped out and landed on the floor.
I bent down to pick it up.
There was a young woman in the picture.
And beside her was a man with familiar green eyes.
The same jawline.
The same dimple.
My hands went cold.
It was Dave.
I went back to Ava.
"Sweetheart...
Who's this?"
Her face lit up.
"That's my mommy and daddy!"
For a second, I couldn't speak.
Dave and I had no children.
And this little girl was pointing at a photograph of my husband and calling him Daddy.
"Do you know your daddy's name?"
She thought for a moment.
"I think...
David.
I've never met him."
My heart dropped.
I walked straight into the living room and held the photo out to my husband.
"Dave.
What is this?"
His face went pale.
Before Dave could answer, Cynthia cut in.
"Oh, for God's sake.
I heard everything.
First, you bring home a random child, now you're accusing my son of being her father?
What kind of circus is this?"
I looked at her.
She seemed angrier about the question than Dave did.
"Mom.
Stop."
Dave didn't look at his mother.
He took my hand.
"She might be my daughter."
I stared at him.
Before he could explain, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door and froze when I saw who it was.
"Hi.
You must be the one who brought Ava."
---
May you like
What does Dave know — and how long has Cynthia been hiding it?
Comment **"NEXT"** if you want Part 2.
