Grant was already worrying about the possibility of losing our home.
“We’re not there yet,” I said.
“Not yet.”
He slid the legal pad back toward me.
“I hope you have a better answer by next month.”
Neither of us realized Eli was standing near the hallway until he quietly turned away.
I caught a brief glimpse of his shirt as he disappeared upstairs.
“Eli?”
He didn’t respond.
I was about to follow him when Ben began crying.
By the time I’d changed Ben and passed him to Grant, Eli’s bedroom door was shut.
I knocked gently.
“Buddy?”
“Just a minute.”
I heard something sliding across the floor.
When Eli finally opened the door, his blue rolling suitcase stood beside his bed.
He had already packed it.
His baseball glove rested on top.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Eli glanced toward the suitcase.
“I think I should go tomorrow instead.”
“Why?”
He shifted uncomfortably.
“I heard Dad say we might lose the house.”
“We are not losing the house tomorrow, Eli.”
“But if I go to Aunt Ruth’s, you won’t have to buy me stuff.”
I stepped into his room.
“That’s not how it works.”
He lowered his gaze.
“I already called her.”
For a moment, I felt completely still.
“You called Ruth?”
He nodded quietly.
“I asked if I could come early.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me to talk to you.”
I carefully sat on his bed.
“Eli, you don’t have to leave.”
He looked toward his suitcase before turning back to me.
“But Mom, I don’t want the babies to lose their house because of me.”
Chapter 6: I Only Wanted You To Feel Better
I gently moved the suitcase away from the doorway.
Then I lowered myself onto the floor beside it.
Eli sat opposite me, holding his knees close against his chest.
“I need you to understand something,” I said. “We have bills to pay. That’s true. But those bills are not your fault.”
He nervously picked at a loose thread on his jeans.
“Dad said kids cost money.”
“They do.”
“So wouldn’t two be cheaper than three?”
It saddened me to hear him approaching the situation like a financial calculation.
“Yes,” I said. “But having children isn’t a shopping trip where you put something back because the total is too high.”
His eyebrows drew together.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
I nearly smiled at his response.
“You’re right. That was a bad explanation.”
He raised his eyes toward me.
So I decided to explain it differently.
“Remember when you broke your glasses at school?”
“Yeah.”
“And we had to buy new ones?”
He nodded.
“Did we tell you that you couldn’t live here anymore because glasses were expensive?”
“No.”
“Would we tell Ben or Nora that?”
“No.”
“Then we don’t get to say it about you.”
He considered my explanation.
“But they’re your real babies.”
I drew a slow breath.
“You’re all my real children. I gave birth to them. Your dad and I adopted you. Those things are different, but neither makes you less our son.”
“Grandma said blood is different.”
“Blood is different. That doesn’t mean love or responsibility disappears.”
He pulled his sleeves down over his hands.
“I wish you’d told me before.”
“I wish I had, too.”
“I thought maybe something was wrong with me.”
I moved a little closer to him.
“Nothing is wrong with you because you’re adopted. We were wrong not to explain it.”
He nodded, although I could see he was still trying to understand everything he’d recently discovered.
After a little while, he asked, “Did you like me when I was a baby?”
I smiled warmly.
“I loved you.”
“Even when I cried?”
“You cried a lot.”
His eyes widened with surprise.
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. You hated your car seat, and you used to throw your bottle when you were finished.”
He let out a quiet laugh.
“Dad said I was a good baby.”
“Your dad has a selective memory.”
For a brief moment, Eli smiled.
Then he glanced toward the hallway, where Nora had begun making restless sounds.
“I don’t always like twins,” he admitted.
I turned my attention back to him.
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes they’re loud. And everybody says I have to be a good big brother.”
“You don’t have to like every minute of having babies around.”
“Yesterday, I got mad because Ben woke me up.”
“That’s okay.”
“I didn’t say anything mean to him.”
“I know.”
“But I thought it.”
I rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“Eli, being frustrated doesn’t make you a bad brother.”
His expression softened with relief.
Then he added, “I still want to help you.”
“I know you do.”
“I can get the diapers.”
“Sometimes.”
“And fold the little towels.”
“If you want to.”
“And I could make you breakfast.”
I gently shook my head.
“Buddy, you’re nine. You can help around the house like any kid, but you’re not responsible for taking care of me or your brother and sister.”
He became quiet again.
I suddenly remembered the very first request he’d made in our kitchen.
One more month.
Not the entire summer.
Not until his next birthday.
Only one additional month.
“Eli, can I ask you something?”
He nodded.
“Why did you ask for one more month?”
He looked at me with a puzzled expression.
“Because the doctor said you’d be better soon.”
“What?”
“When we went to your appointment, you asked when your stomach would stop hurting. The doctor said it could take six weeks or more.”
I remembered that appointment clearly.
Eli had been sitting quietly in the examination room’s corner, playing a game on Grant’s phone.
I’d assumed he wasn’t paying attention to our conversation.
“I figured another month would be enough,” he said.
“Enough for what?”
“For you to be better.”
Emotion tightened my chest.
But Eli continued explaining.
“Sometimes you make that face when you stand up.”
“What face?”
He demonstrated by pressing his lips together and narrowing his eyes.
Despite everything happening around us, I nearly laughed.
“That face,” he said. “You did it yesterday when you got off the couch.”
“I remember.”
“And sometimes both babies cry, and you look like you don’t know what to do first.”
I swallowed before answering.
“So I thought if I stayed, I could help until you weren’t hurting anymore.”
“Eli—”
“Then I could go to Aunt Ruth’s.”
He said those words with such innocent certainty.
As though he’d been preparing for a perfectly normal visit.
As though moving away from his own home was simply another responsibility he needed to complete.
“I didn’t want to go while you still needed help, Mom.”
I reached toward him, but he continued speaking.
“And I thought if I waited until Ben and Nora were bigger, you wouldn’t be so tired.”
He lowered his gaze toward his hands.
“Then you wouldn’t need me as much.”
For a moment, I couldn’t find my voice.
For several days, I’d believed Eli was desperately trying to prove himself helpful so we’d allow him to remain with us.
But in his mind, the decision had already been made.
He simply wanted enough time to make certain I would be okay after he left.
I gently gathered him into my arms.
He immediately began crying.
There was no anger or loud sobbing.
It was the same quiet crying I remembered from when he was younger and tried not to wake us after a frightening dream.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I held him a little closer.
“For what?”
“For making everything harder.”
“You haven’t made anything harder.”
“Dad said you’re tired all the time.”
“I am tired. That’s what happens when you have newborn twins.”
“And I keep needing things.”
“You’re supposed to need things.”
He shook his head while resting against my shoulder.
“No, I’m supposed to be the big brother.”
His tears continued.
I stayed beside him until his breathing gradually became steady again.
Then I reached toward his suitcase.
“Can we unpack this?”
He wiped the tears from his cheeks.
“Do I have to?”
“No. But I don’t want you keeping it packed because you think someone is coming to take you away.”
He paused to consider my words.
“Can I keep the bag in my closet?”
“Of course.”
“Just in case?”
His question left me deeply saddened.
I wanted to reassure him that he’d never have another reason to feel uncertain about his home.
But I knew I couldn’t simply undo everything he’d overheard.
So instead, I told him, “We’ll take this one day at a time. And I’m going to keep showing you that this is your home.”
He gave a small nod.
Together, we returned his clothes to their drawers.
He carefully placed his baseball glove back on its shelf.
Two stuffed animals he’d purchased for the twins were still resting on his bed.
“Are these for Ben and Nora?” I asked.
“Yeah. I forgot to give them to you.”
“They’ll love them when they’re older.”
He lifted the small brown teddy bear.
“Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“If you had the twins first, would you still have adopted me?”
I settled beside him.
“I can’t tell you what the past would have looked like if things had happened differently. But I can tell you this: having Ben and Nora hasn’t changed the fact that I’m your mother.”
He searched my expression carefully.
“Even if I don’t help with them?”
“Even then.”
“Even if I get mad?”
“Even then.”
He slowly turned the teddy bear between his hands.
Then he asked a question I knew I would carry with me forever.
“Mom, if I’m really your son, why do the babies get to stay without asking?”
I looked at the little boy beside me.
And suddenly, I understood that another reassuring promise wouldn’t be enough.
He needed the adults around him to demonstrate that their promises could be trusted.
Chapter 7: The Wrong Person Was Leaving
The following morning, I contacted Nina and asked whether Eli could spend several hours at her house.
“Absolutely,” she said. “My husband was going to take the kids to the park anyway. Eli can come with us.”
Once Nina had picked him up, I invited Grant and Marilyn to join me at the kitchen table.
Grant noticed the folder I was holding.
“What’s that?”
“Our budget. And a plan for the next few weeks.”
Marilyn crossed her arms.
“Are we really doing this again?”
“No,” I said. “We’re doing it differently.”
I began explaining the arrangements I’d already explored.
The hospital had offered monthly installments while our application for financial assistance remained under review.
My manager was open to discussing a temporary part-time working arrangement.
Nina could occasionally lend a hand, and I’d located a neighborhood babysitter who might cover certain hours when Grant and I were both working.
The arrangements weren’t ideal.
We would need to eliminate several expenses, delay replacing our vehicle, and carefully manage nearly every dollar we spent.
Grant would also need to adjust his working hours whenever possible and take on more of the twins’ daily care.
But at least we had somewhere to begin.
Grant examined my calculations.
“We still have a gap.”
“I know.”
“And what happens if your manager changes her mind?”
“Then we make another adjustment.”
Marilyn slowly shook her head.
“This is ridiculous. Ruth has a beautiful home. She lives alone. Eli would have everything he needs.”
“Except his parents.”
“He’s old enough to understand that families sometimes have to make sacrifices.”
I turned toward her.
“Would you say that about Ben or Nora?”
“They’re newborns.”
“Let’s say they were nine years old. And Eli had just been born.”
Marilyn looked confused.
“What?”
“Would you suggest sending one of the twins to live with Ruth for a school year?”
“Of course not.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re Grant’s children.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the kitchen.
Marilyn appeared to recognize the meaning of her response.
“I mean—”
“Because they’re his biological children?”
“Lauren, don’t start.”
“I want you to hear what you’re saying.”
Grant continued staring down at the table.
I turned my attention toward him.
“Do you agree with her?”
He hesitated before responding.
“Grant.”
“Of course Eli is my son.”
“Then why was he the only child you were willing to send away?”
He leaned backward in his chair.
“Because he’s older. Because Ruth loves him. Because the babies can’t exactly pack a suitcase.”
“Neither can Eli. Not without somebody teaching him he has to.”
Grant finally looked up.
I continued speaking.
“He was sitting on his bedroom floor yesterday with a packed suitcase, asking whether leaving would save us enough money to keep the house.”
Grant’s expression shifted.
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
“He knows we’re struggling, but—”
“He thinks he’s the reason we’re struggling.”
Grant rubbed his hands over his face.
“And do you know why he asked to stay one more month?”
Neither Grant nor Marilyn responded.
“Because he thought I needed help recovering from surgery. He believed we’d decided to send him away, but he didn’t want to leave until I was strong enough to manage the babies without him.”
Marilyn lowered her gaze.
Grant remained completely motionless.
“He was ready to give up his home,” I said, “but he was worried about leaving me alone.”
For the first time, neither tried to argue.
I took a steady breath.
“That’s what your plan did to him.”
Grant rose from his chair and approached the window.
He stood silently for several moments.
Eventually, he asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“First, I want you to stop calling this a temporary arrangement that got misunderstood. You lied to me. You lied to Ruth. And you told our son I wanted him gone.”
He slowly nodded.
“I did.”
“Why?”
His eyes became watery.
“I was scared, Lauren.”
I waited for him to continue.
“I saw what we owed. I saw you barely able to get out of bed some mornings. Mom offered a way to help, and I kept telling myself it would only be for a little while.”
“But you planned for the whole school year.”
“I know.”
“At what point did you decide Eli wasn’t worth the trouble of finding another solution?”
