“I’m listening,” I said, resting my hand on the edge of the stove.

“I’ll sign whatever paper you want,” Derek said, his tone desperate and eager.

“I’ll move into my sister’s spare room in Chesapeake.

I’ll give you full control of the house and the savings account.”

“You signed a voluntary parental transfer document, Derek.

You tried to hand our daughter over to your mother.”

“She made me draw that up,” he pleaded.

“She told me it was only temporary while you were deployed, so we could get military medical coverage processed more easily.