That evening, I sat on my porch with her letter in my lap, my hand resting on my belly as my daughter kicked softly beneath it. For the first time in months, I felt hope instead of fear. Looking toward the quiet house next door, I whispered a promise into the evening air: “Thank you, Mrs.
Higgins. I’ll spend the rest of my life paying your kindness forward.” And in that moment, I knew exactly what I would name my daughter—Mabel.
