Maggie's entire face crumpled.
"Oh, dear Lord," she whispered. "How many?"
"So many," I sighed, seeing their faces once again and feeling the yummy biscuit expand in my mouth at the thought of them going hungry. "And no one knows what to do with them. Everyone is trying to survive. They get forgotten."
Her eyes filled, then sharpened. "Axel and Hilde…?"
"They're both orphans. But not siblings."
She reached across the table and gripped my hands. "Oh, sweetheart."
"I know, I wish… I wish I could somehow… help them."
For a moment, she just held me, as though she could somehow absorb every heartbreak I'd ever endured. Then she straightened, eyes blazing with a fire I recognized from Gideon.
"How serious are you," she asked, "about wanting to help those children?"
My breath caught. "Very. Very serious."
"Do you still know people in Berlin? People you trust?"
"Yes," I whispered immediately.
"Good." She stood, marched to the counter, grabbed a notebook and pencil, and slapped them on the table.
"Then let's get started."
I blinked. "Started… what?"
"Fundraising, sweetheart."
"Fund… what?"
"Fundraising!" She motioned emphatically. "Raising money. Organizing donations. Getting supplies. Building houses. Making your dream real."
I stared at her, stunned. "But how?—"
"You don't worry about the how," she said, tapping her pencil against my knuckles. "Worry about thewhy. Thehowis my job."
I felt my eyes sting. "Maggie… I…"
She waved away my tears. "Hush. You came all the way from a war-torn country with two orphans and your baby brother. There's a reason the Lord put you in our path."
I swallowed. "You think… we can help them? Truly?"
"Oh, honey," she said, sitting beside me and wrapping an arm around my shoulders, "we're Griffins. We can do anything. And Montana's got space. There's room for more children here. Plenty of women in town would take some in. Patti Baker, especially. “She'll pretend she doesn'twant to, but she will. Her husband'll grumble, but he'll make bunk beds faster than you can blink."
A small, stunned laugh escaped me. We talked.
And then we planned. Oh God, did we plan. She explained to me about fundraising. Big dinner parties that sounded daunting, but the money it would bring in… I thought about the Trümmerkinder, even Bastian, who had never seen something like Montana. Elke could help organize it. We could bring them here. Maybe not all of them, but many.
I started to dream. And the more I did, the more it seemed possible. By the time the sun crept higher, my notebook was filled with ideas: letters to write, contacts to reach out to, possible places to house children, names Maggie rattled off like an army of helpers waiting to be called.
The kitchen smelled of jam and biscuits and hope.
Until the children stumbled in, interrupting us in the best way. Still sleepy, tousled, and adorable. They each got a biscuit shoved into their hands before they could even sit.
Then Hank and Molly came in, dusty from morning chores.
