Chapter 1 Beginnings

"Get out," I spat; my voice shook with rage as I stepped back, creating a distance between my boyfriend and me.

Mike hesitated, his voice pleading. "Please Christine-"

"Hurt me? You cheated on me with your secretary." A lump formed in my throat, and tears spilled down my cheeks.

Mike's hands rose, palms up, in a defense gesture. "She came onto me," holding my shoulders, he continued. "You caught us at the wrong moment. Look, I swear to you, Christine, I would never dream of hurting you."

I stepped away from him and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "You have hurt me for the last time, Mike Russo."

Mike licked his lips with resigned expression. "I love you, but you need to trust me on this one, baby."

"Love?" I burst into a bitter laugh. "The only person you love is yourself. I never want to see you again."

Then I slammed my front door shut and leaned by it, my body shaking as I broke into a sob, feeling my heart shatter to a million pieces.

A year later, I clipped my ID badge to my jacket. I took a deep breath, pushing away thoughts of Mike's betrayal from my mind.

I stepped onto the porch and rang the doorbell to Mrs. Smith's Group Home, in the suburbs of Seattle. I loved my job as a social worker, and inspections like this one were my favorite part. I got to see the kids and ensure they received the best care possible.

When the door opened, Mrs. Gladys Smith, the manager, greeted me without her usual warm smile. "Hi, Christine. Right on time, as always."

I creased my brows together, pulling out my clipboard and my pen. "Let's get started, shall we?"

The living room space was tidy, and Kimiko, aged six, was sitting in front of the TV watching a popular preschool cartoon.

She turned to face me with a bright gap-toothed grin. "Hi, Ms. Frank."

"Miko, ah, enjoying the fine entertainment TV has to offer, I see?" I asked.

Kimiko shot me a confused look and shrugged. "I guess."

Gladys led me through the usual routine: medication, security alarm, food plan. I checked through my list as I glanced through the fridge contents. The sound of a ball bouncing echoed through the walls as Jayden and Tommy burst through the kitchen back door.

I lifted a warning finger as they froze. "Uh-uh, take it outside, boys. No dunking in the kitchen."

Jayden frowned. "Aw man."

Tommy snatched the ball and ran out the door, followed closely by Jay. Annabeth played hula hoops with Daphne and Millie in the backyard. Meanwhile, Noah was likely playing video games in his room.

"And another perfect record, Gladys, as usual. Thank you for making my job easier." I turned to face her.

Her expression turned serious. "Christine, can I talk to you for a minute in my office?"

My curiosity rose, and I nodded, following her to the office. But as I sat behind her desk, Gladys dropped the bombshell: "I'm dying, Christine."

I widened my eyes and waited for a laugh and a 'just kidding.' "Oh God, Gladys." I gave a nervous chuckle. "Save the spooky talk for Halloween."

Her green eyes remained serious. "It's terminal lung cancer, and the doctor. Damn, the man says I have about six months to get my affairs in order before I die. It's the result of my smoking habit."

I bit back a smile. Gladys was about sixty-five, still agile for her age, but I suddenly noticed her cheerfulness was gone. Tears formed in my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away.

"Do the kids know about..." I whispered.

She sighed. "Just Noah, he found me passed out in the bathroom, called nine-one-one. Listen, you know my kids don't like this job, and I have no one to hand the home to."

If no one would take the job, then it would be a problem; group homes were in shortage... and there was a possibility of separation.

Gladys' eyes locked onto mine. "I know you're thinking about the system. You can't let them be separated; they're a family, and even when they fight, hell, they always find a way."

Mrs. Smith's coughing fit sent a jolt through me. I leapt from my seat, my pulse racing, as I rushed to her side. "Gladys!" I took a stride towards her by the window.

She lifted a hand as I helped her sit on the leather sofa. "I'm...fine." She wheezed.

I filled a glass of water and handed it to her.

"Listen, I'll do my best to convince the authorities. They'll be together," I said, sitting next to her. "The house may need a temporary manager."

She looked at me with precision. "Or a permanent one."

I felt a surge of surprise as Mrs. Smith's words sank in. "You're suggesting... me? As the permanent manager?"

Mrs. Smith nodded, her gentle smile filling me with a sense of wonder. "Who better to care for them than someone who already loves them like family? I've watched you interact with them better than anyone, Christine," she said, her eyes really believing.

I thought back to all the moments I'd shared with the kids-the laughter, the tears, the quiet moments of connection. I had grown to love them, but taking on the responsibility of managing the group home was a great task ahead.

"But Mrs. Smith, I... I don't know if I'm qualified," I stammered, my doubts creeping in.

As she sipped the water, I processed her words. Becoming the permanent manager would change my life, but I couldn't bear the thought of the kids being separated.

She took my hands in hers. "I put my faith in you, Frank. This is my final wish."

"Gladys, I'll do everything I can," I promised.

She smiled weakly. "I knew I could count on you, Christine."

I swallowed as I heard the kids' voices from outside. How would they cope without her? Six months later, Gladys passed away in her sleep.