”
“How quickly?”
“Three transport vans are scheduled for Friday. The children will be sent to three different counties.”
I set the folder of receipts on the table, but my hand did not want to release it.
Five days. That was all they were giving me.
“Diane, tell me the truth. What are my chances in there?”
“Honestly? They are slim. The judge does not usually approve single applicants, especially young applicants with no parenting experience.”
Before I could respond, the door opened, and Beverly, the senior caseworker, stepped inside with a clipboard.
“Carter, may I sit down?”
“Please.”
She sat and folded her hands in the practiced manner that social workers often used.
I had seen that same posture across a desk many years earlier, and my stomach tightened before I could stop it.
“I want you to understand that I am not your enemy,” she said quietly. “I have been doing this for 22 years. I have watched good, kind people take on more than they could handle, and I have watched children pay the price.”
“I understand, Beverly. I really do.”
“You have no spouse or co-guardian. You do not currently have medical coverage that extends to five dependents. You converted part of your workshop into living quarters, Carter. The court needs proof that it is a safe home for young children.”
“I built solid oak bunk beds. I insulated the walls, installed smoke detectors, and had the electrical system inspected. I installed five car seats in the van last week. I also contacted a pediatrician on Elm Street, and she agreed to accept all five children as new patients.”
Her expression remained unchanged, but something behind her eyes softened for a moment.
Then, she looked down at her clipboard.
“I would like to speak with Eli alone, if that is alright.”
Diane nodded before I could answer.
A minute later, a court aide walked Eli into the room.
He looked at me first, checking for reassurance, just as he had done every hour for the past three weeks.
“It’s okay, buddy,” I told him. “Just answer her questions honestly.”
He nodded once and sat down.
Beverly leaned forward and asked him about school, food, and whether he felt safe with me.
Eli answered in a whisper that I could barely hear while his thumb rubbed the ribbon in tight circles.
When the aide took him back outside, the room felt heavier than before.
Beverly stood, thanked me with genuine kindness, and left.
Diane waited until the door clicked shut.
“Carter, there is something we need to discuss.”
“What is it?”
“The state’s attorney is going to ask you a personal question. He will ask about your background and why you are doing this.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“He can ask whatever he wants.”
“Carter, listen to me. I have read your file twice. There are gaps that the state’s attorney will notice. If there is something you have not told me, now is the time.”
I stared at a water stain on the ceiling and tried to breathe.
“I have carried this for 20 years, Diane. I have never even told my closest friends. I don’t know whether I can say it in a room full of strangers.”
“You may have to. The judge may need to hear it more than anyone.”
Before I could answer, the bailiff’s voice rang through the door, calling our case.
At the end of the hallway, the courtroom doors swung open.
Daniel, the state’s attorney, rose from his table with the calm posture of a man who had done this hundreds of times.
He did not glance at me as he arranged his charts on the podium.
“Your Honor, I want to begin by acknowledging that Carter’s intentions appear genuine,” he said. “However, good intentions alone cannot raise five children under the age of seven.”
“His residence is a converted workshop space that has not yet received final approval for foster placement. He has no spouse, no co-guardian, no current medical plan capable of covering five dependents, and, with respect, no parenting experience.”
The judge watched me over the rims of his glasses.
I felt every eye in the room settle on my borrowed tie.
“The state has three vetted foster homes prepared to receive these children by Friday,” Daniel continued. “Their separation is regrettable, but the state must prioritize stability.”
Diane leaned toward me.
“Stay calm,” she whispered. “Answer only what he asks.”
I took the stand.
My hands felt too large for the wooden rail.
“Carter, you work as a carpenter, correct?” Daniel asked.
“Yes, sir. I have worked at the same shop for 11 years.”
“And you converted part of that property into bedrooms for five children?”
“I built bunk beds along the north wall. I insulated the rooms, completed the safety work, and arranged for inspections. I also contacted a pediatrician before this hearing.”
“That is commendable. However, you have no wife, no partner, and no living parents listed in your file. Why would a young man in his prime willingly take on this kind of responsibility and debt?”
“Because they need someone.”
“Many children need someone, Carter. You did not petition for any other children. You petitioned for these five. Why?”
I looked past him.
Eli sat in the back row with the youngest child on his lap.
One of his small hands rested against his sister’s back to keep her steady.
“Because they’re siblings,” I said.
“Many siblings are separated every year in this state,” Daniel replied. “That fact alone is not a sufficient legal argument.”
“It should be.”
He almost smiled.
“Carter, there are unexplained gaps in your background between the ages of nine and 17. The court should understand those years before it places five children in your care.”
The room became so quiet that I could feel the silence in my ribs.
I looked down at my hands.
“I would rather not discuss that, sir.”
“I’m sure you would rather not,” Daniel said gently. “However, this court is being asked to place five human beings in your care. The court is entitled to understand who you are.”
“Objection,” Diane said. “The question is overly broad and invades my client’s privacy.”
The judge held up one hand.
“I’ll allow a narrower version of the question.”
Daniel turned back toward me.
“Carter, why these children? Why now? Why are you willing to spend every dollar you have, and possibly every dollar you will ever earn, on five strangers?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
I saw Eli whisper something to the younger children.
His lips formed the same soft, reassuring shape that a mother might use, and my throat closed.
