I Was Told My Newborn Had Died—Then My Eight-Year-Old Son Asked Why Daddy Had Paid Aunt Rachel to Take the Crying Bundle
An object could be evidence and still be an object.
The child was more than either one.
I looked at my daughter, then at Ethan.
We were home.
Not finished.
Not untouched by what had happened.
Home, with the people and plans needed to make the next day possible.
EPILOGUE — His Lunch Money
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