Six months later, she was dying.
She took my hand and whispered, “Promise me you’ll take my kids. All of them. Don’t let them be split up.”
“I promise,” I said without hesitation. “I’ll love them like my own.”
“You’re the only one I trust,” she said.
Just before she drifted off, she added one strange thing. “Keep a close eye on Rebecca.”
I assumed she meant because Becca was the youngest. I was wrong.
After Rachel passed, the decision was simple. There were no close relatives willing to step in. My husband didn’t even blink.
Overnight, we became a family of six children.
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