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big confessions with them as she did with him.

She adjusts her position on the armchair, crossing her legs. “Well, I love to cook and bake. I often help in the kitchen around here when I can, so I’ve learned a lot about classic American cuisine. Perhaps I can make you both dinner sometime?”

Frank and Beatrice exchange doe-eyed smiles, then turn back to her.

“That would be wonderful,” Beatrice says, putting her right hand over her chest.

Brielle’s smile widens. This is going well!

“And I’m very good with small children,” she adds. “I spend a lot of time in the nursery.” Babies and toddlers have little sense of guilt, so she rarely gets visions while caring for and playing with them. Not to mention they’re too young to follow the gossip of the older kids, who never play with them anyway, so she’s always welcome there. “So if you have any, I can be a big help.”

Beatrice’s smile falls, and before Brielle knows what hit her, a vision flashes. Beatrice and Frank are sitting in what looks like a doctor’s office. “You have a uterine tumor,” a man in a white lab coat informs Beatrice. “We’ll have to remove it before it gets much larger. And I’m afraid, as a result, you may not be able to have children…”

The vision vanishes as abruptly as it had come, leaving behind a guilt that Brielle doesn’t quite understand.

She tries to mask her facial features so the Pierces don’t think she’s just had a stroke.

Frank puts his hand on Beatrice’s left knee, looking down at his lap as he says, “Unfortunately, we’re unable to have children. That’s why we’re adopting.”

Beatrice casts her gaze to the floor, a look of shame weighing her brow downward.

“I’m so sorry,” Brielle says sincerely. Now she understands. Beatrice feels it’s her fault that she can’t give Frank a baby. Brielle wishes she could comfort her in some way. “Are you sure you want to consider me and not one of the younger children? Maybe a baby?”

Wait, what is she saying? The guilt has the wheel.

Beatrice shakes her head. “To be honest, we’re getting a little too old to keep up with a baby.” She offers a half-hearted laugh.

“We knew when we came here that we wanted someone older,” Frank says. “Most people want a baby, so we’re sure they’ll have no trouble getting adopted without our help. Our life is more suited to a teenager, and we feel teens are selected less often and would need a home more. Would you agree?”

His words ring so true they sting Brielle’s eyes. Babies and toddlers don’t stay here long. The older a child gets, the less likely they are to be adopted. As she grew up, watching child after child get picked, she knew her chances were dwindling. It’s why Brielle has all but given up.

“That’s very generous of you,” Brielle says. “I know I’ll never be able to replace the child you couldn’t have, but I hope I’ll be able to make a pleasant addition to your family. If you’ll have me, that is.”

“We hope so, too,” Beatrice says.

After a silence, Frank changes the subject to the kind of TV Brielle likes to watch, and they bond over a shared interest in Stranger Things and other shows.

The conversation moves easily from shows and movies to travel interests to favorite foods. At some point, it strikes Brielle that she feels very comfortable with them. There’s no tension in her body anywhere, and their postures are more relaxed as well. No matter how much she tries to tamp it down, hope swells in her chest.

A ding has Frank reaching into his pocket for his phone and glancing down at it.

“Man how time flies,” he says, stuffing it back in his slacks. “We’re out of time for today, but this has been a really nice chat.”

“I know you offered to make us dinner, but how about we take you out later this week?” Beatrice offers.

“We don’t want to be too hasty about this decision, for both our sakes,” Frank says. “We want to make sure you like us as much as we like you.”

Brielle’s lips are spread so wide it makes her face hurt. “I would love nothing more than to join you for dinner.”

“Excellent!” Frank claps his hands again. “Friday night, say 5 o’clock? We’ll pick you up?”

“Sounds perfect.” Brielle’s heart is so full of joy, it could burst inside her chest.

Frank and Beatrice stand to leave, and Brielle follows. Beatrice closes the distance and wraps her arms around Brielle in a motherly embrace. Surprise is quickly replaced by a slow warmth that radiates throughout her limbs. They’ve moved beyond shaking hands to hugging, and Brielle loves it.

When Beatrice withdraws, Frank comes in for a hug too, and Brielle delights in fantasies of many more such embraces. What would it be like to be able to call him “Dad”...

They say their goodbyes and the Pierces exit through the front door.

Sister Agatha walks up beside Brielle, her eyes twinkling. “That seemed to go well.”

Brielle’s smile is still painfully yet joyously etched on her face. “They invited me out for dinner on Friday,” she manages to say without squealing.

“I’m happy to hear it. Seeing as you may not be around much longer, would you help me set the tables for dinner?”

As Brielle goes around the tables in the dining hall with silverware and napkins, all she can think about is the upcoming dinner with the Pierces, getting adopted by them, going on family outings with them. Her excitement is so overwhelming, she bounces on her heels as she makes her rounds, and nothing can take the smile off her face.

A hand lands firmly on her shoulder and turns her around. Her eyes fall on Marie, who looks angrier than usual.

“What did you do to me?” she hisses.

Despite her confusion and sense of violation at Marie’s rough handling, fear stabs at Brielle’s gut. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb!” Marie spits. “You cast some kind of

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