Page 1 of Tarek

1

DARREN

Ilooked down at our sleeping daughter in her car seat carrier, my heart feeling full to bursting. She was so tiny. One little fist was tucked beneath her chin, her dark lashes resting against her cheeks, and the softest snuffling noises escaped her every few breaths. A curl of dark hair had escaped the little cap we'd put on before we left, and I resisted the urge to smooth it back because she looked so peaceful. I still couldn't quite believe she was ours.

Our daughter. The fulfilment of a lifelong dream.

After everything it had taken to get here, I sometimes had to remind myself that this wasn't a dream. I looked across the back seat at the boys, and my heart swelled all over again.

Evan was sprawled against the window, fast asleep despite the fact that we'd told him twice he needed to stay awake until we got to his grandparents’. His sandy-brown hair was sticking up in three different directions where he'd been rubbing his head against the seat, and his cheeks were still pink from the excitement of the day. He was getting so big, but every now and then, when he fell asleep like this, I could still see the little boy I'd first held in my arms.

Matt had somehow managed to fall asleep with one hand still wrapped around the dragon stuffy he'd insisted on bringing with us. His dark blond hair was standing up at the crown, and his mouth was slightly open as he slept, revealing the little gap between his two front teeth. I had no idea how many times I'd kissed his cute little button nose when that smile had overwhelmed me, usually while he was squirming and laughing and telling me I was messing up his hair.

Those were the things I knew by heart: the way Evan's hair never stayed flat no matter how carefully we'd brushed it that morning, the way Matt's cheeks went round and pink when he was excited, which was often, the little gap between his front teeth that wouldn't last forever, and Laura's tiny fingers and dark curls and the soft snuffling noises she made whenever she was deeply asleep. They were such ordinary things, but they were the things I treasured most.

I looked at the three of them and felt that familiar rush of gratitude. I had a husband I loved, three children I adored, and a home we owned waiting for us. It wasn't perfect, and I didn't need it to be. Our life was noisy and messy and full of laundry, toys, spilled drinks, crayon drawings on the refrigerator, and arguments over who had been sitting where first, but it was ours, and I wouldn't have traded any of it for a quieter life.

I'd spent years imagining what my family would look like. Philip and I had talked about adoption long before Evan came into our lives, and I still remembered those conversations about what our future children might be like. We'd talked about bedrooms and schools and holidays, all the ordinary things that seemed so far away then. After that came the paperwork, the waiting, and the nervous hope that we'd eventually get the call we'd been longing for.

When Evan finally came into our lives, I thought my heart couldn't possibly hold any more love.

I remembered the first time I'd held him. He'd been so tiny that I was almost afraid to breathe, terrified that one wrong movement might somehow break him. He'd had a shock of fine brown hair and the reddest little cheeks, and when his tiny fingers curled around mine, something inside me simply settled into place.

Philip had laughed at me, telling me that I was already wrapped around our son's little finger. He'd been right. I hadn't cared that Evan wasn't biologically mine nor Philip's. Not for one second. He was our son, and that had been all that mattered to me, as well as Philip.

Philip had become aware of Evan's situation through the firm, where his birth mother was a young intern who had found herself pregnant and completely unprepared for what came next. She wanted her baby to have a stable, loving home, and Philip had helped make sure she was connected with the right people to guide her through the process. I still remembered how excited he'd been when he came home with the news that she had asked if we'd become his parents, and how we'd spent half the night talking about whether we were really ready for a baby.

Apparently, we were, and a little over a year later, another situation came through the firm. Once again, there was a young mother who wasn't in a position to raise a child and wanted something better for him. By then, there wasn't much question about whether we were ready.

I remembered holding Matt for the first time and being struck by how different he was from Evan. He'd been rounder, noisier, with a surprisingly strong grip for such a tiny baby, and even then he seemed determined to make his presence known. I used to joke that Philip had a sixth sense for finding babies who needed parents, but mostly I was just delighted that Evan was going to have a brother.

Matt changed the whole rhythm of our home. Suddenly there were two little boys racing through the house, toys everywhere, laughter coming from one room while somebody was inevitably yelling from another. Evan adored having a baby brother, although that didn't stop them from arguing over toys, and watching them grow up together became one of my favorite parts of being a father. I'd given up any lingering hope of having a quiet life almost immediately, and I couldn't imagine wanting anything different.

By the time we started talking seriously about adopting a girl, we'd already stopped actively looking and were just cautiously exploring the idea. We had two wonderful boys, we were happy, and there was a part of me that thought perhaps our family was simply meant to be the four of us.

Then Philip came home from his work at the law firm one evening and told me about a little girl whose mother couldn't keep her, and just like that everything changed again. I hadn't needed time to think. Neither had Philip. We went through the process, made the arrangements, and before long I was holding Laura for the first time.

She was so small, with a soft cap of dark hair and impossibly tiny fingers. I remember laughing through tears because somehow I'd been wrong all over again. I'd thought I knew what it meant to love a child. Then Laura arrived, and apparently my heart had found room for more.

I looked down at her now, watching the tiny rise and fall of her chest beneath the blanket. Her dark hair curled softly against her forehead, and one tiny hand had worked its way free again. I tucked the blanket around it, smiling when her fingers caught briefly around mine before relaxing.

I'd heard people talk about how difficult adoption could be, how long the process could take, and how many prospective parents waited years without ever getting the family they dreamed about. We'd somehow had three chances to become parents, and I still couldn't quite believe how fortunate we'd been.

I glanced at Philip in the driver's seat. He was humming along with the radio, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, completely at ease. I watched him for a moment, feeling that deep, settled certainty I'd carried for years. Whatever else happened in life, I knew I'd married a good man. We'd built a good life together, and now, with Laura, our family at last was complete.

2

DARREN

Philip's mother was already opening the front door before we'd made it halfway up the walk, and the moment she saw the baby carrier in my hands, her whole face lit up.

"There they are! Let me see my new granddaughter!" She ushered us inside before I could even get properly through the doorway, laughing and fussing over Laura while Philip's father came forward to greet us. There were kisses for all three children, air ones for the baby, although Evan and Matt were more interested in the brightly wrapped boxes waiting beneath the Christmas tree.

"Those are for you two," Philip's mother told them, and the boys immediately dropped to their knees to investigate.

New toy cars emerged from the wrapping paper, followed by delighted exclamations and a brief argument over which one was the fastest. I laughed as Philip's mother gathered them both into another round of grandmotherly hugs before turning her attention back to the baby.

"And this is for Laura." She picked up a gift bag and took out a beautifully crocheted baby afghan in pastel pink, pale purple, and creamy white. The stitches were small and even, and the whole thing was far too large for a newborn.