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“Look at her, Marla,” he whispered, awe in his voice. “She’s just perfect.”
I smiled softly, resting a hand on Jennifer’s tiny shoulder. “She really is.”
A few weeks later, we decided to take her out for ice cream. Richard crouched down, smiling warmly.
“How about some ice cream? Would you like that?”
Jennifer hesitated, glancing up at me before giving a tiny nod. She clung to my hand as we walked, her grip firm and unrelenting. Richard tried to coax her out of her shell with gentle questions, but each time he spoke, her little fingers squeezed tighter.
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