Shelter Me Home by T. S. Joyce

know what?”
    A long, shaky breath left her. “I know you were supposed to adopt me when I was a baby.”
    “Oh.” He was quiet for several moments. “Your mom talked to you about it?”
    “I hope it’s all right. I asked her. I wanted to know why she didn’t give me to someone who could take better care of me. I wanted to know to help me make my own decision. You know, about my baby.”
    His eyebrows fell, nearly touching his eyelashes in an expression she could only interpret as pain. “Yes, my wife and I were supposed to be your adoptive parents, but after you were born, your mother couldn’t do it. She couldn’t part with you.”
    “Was it strange seeing me around town?”
    “Not strange. It was a bit heartbreaking, though. Anyone with eyes could see you struggling, and my wife and I had such plans to give you a good life and take care of you. And there was nothing we or anyone could do. Your mom wasn’t doing enough wrong for you to be taken by the state.”
    “That you knew of.”
    A slow nod. “That we knew of.”
    “Why did you tell Aanon my test results, Dr. Jansen?”
    “It was wrong of me, I know. They were meant for you first, and you could do whatever you wanted with the information. But as the man who was almost your adoptive father, I knew Aanon would take care of you like you needed. He’s a good man. If he knew you were lacking something, he’d make sure you and the baby got it.”
    She cracked a smile. “He went hunting for a bear when he got off the phone with you.”
    “And?”
    “And he got one.” She swallowed hard. “The pamphlets you gave me the other day…about adoption? What is the next step if I wanted to learn more?”
    He rolled his chair next to the counter and propped his temple on the palm of his hand. “The closest agency is probably in Anchorage. If you call one of them you think feels right, then they will send you a folder of potential parents.”
    “And I just pick one of them out? Like out of a catalogue?”
    “If that is the direction you want to go, then yes. Sort of like that. The agency will be more equipped to answer those questions for you.”
    “Can I ask you something?”
    Hesitation clung to the shape of his mouth. “Okay.”
    “What do you think I should do?”
    His chest rose with the long inhalation. “As your doctor, I’d say you need to really think about your future. Weigh the pros and cons, and decide not what’s best for you, but what is best for the child.”
    Her heart sank.
    “But,” he said, dropping his chin. “As your almost adoptive father, I’d remind you that you aren’t your mother. She made her decisions for reasons that aren’t easy to understand, but they were her decisions to make. This one is yours, and your mother shouldn’t be allowed to taint it either way. I’ve seen the way you protect your stomach with your hands. You’re doing it right now, and I know you’re struggling with this decision because you are so concerned with giving your baby the best life you can give it. You also have a good head on your shoulders. You have a job and a place to stay. If you decide to keep it, that’s okay, too.”
    Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them back. “What do I really have to offer a child? I work at a bar and rent a cattleman’s cabin. I don’t even have a father to give my baby.”
    “No family looks the same, Farrah,” he said quietly. “Even if it were just you to raise your baby, that wouldn’t be any different than hundreds of thousands of other families.”
    She couldn’t speak. So choked up was she, her throat constricted until it hurt. Instead she nodded.
    She left the office even more confused than when she’d entered. The advice Dr. Jansen gave was priceless. No father figure had ever been there to offer a different perspective, so this was a first, and a nice one at that. But just as she’d been leaning toward the notion that she was strong enough to let go of her baby if it meant it