The road stretches ahead of us, long and empty. For a while, neither of us says anything. Then, just as Hildy’s breathing begins to slow the way it does when she’s about to drift off, her phone rings. The sound is sharp in the quiet car.
She frowns slightly, blinking at the screen.
“Erin,” she says.
She answers and puts the call on speaker. “Hey.”
There’s a pause.
Then Erin’s voice comes through the car speakers, tight and serious. “Are you sitting down?”
Hildy straightens a little, concern etched in her voice. “Yes.”
“Are you with Lenzin?” Erin asks.
“Yes, we’re on our way to Boston.”
Another pause.
“I’m sending you an email,” Erin says. “Call me when you get back into town.”
The line goes dead before Hildy can say anything else.
She looks at the phone in her hand for a second.
“That was… weird.”
“Check your email,” I say quietly.
She opens it. The screen’s glow lights her face as she scrolls. At first, she just reads. Then her hand flies to her mouth. A sound escapes her. Not loud. Just a sharp breath that immediately turns into tears.
“Hildy?”
She shakes her head slightly, still staring at the screen. “Oh, my God.”
My stomach tightens. “What is it?”
She swipes again, then turns the phone slightly so she can read aloud, her voice trembling.
“It’s from my mother.” The words sound like they’re being dragged out of her chest.
“I am the biological mother of Lucy Sullivan…” Her voice breaks. “This letter serves as my voluntary relinquishment of all parental rights and responsibilities for my daughter, Lucy Sullivan…” Hildy’s tears fall freely now as she reads the next lines. “I acknowledge that Lucy has been living under the care and protection of Lenzin Faulker and Hildy Sullivan. I believe it is in Lucy’s best interest for Lenzin Faulker and Hildy Sullivan to assume permanent legal guardianship and parental responsibility…”
She stops reading.
The phone trembles slightly in her hand.
I pull the car onto the shoulder without thinking.
The engine idles quietly.
“Hildy.”
She looks at me through tears, shaking her head like she still can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.
“She signed it,” she whispers.
Behind us, Lucy shifts in her sleep, the rabbit still tucked under her chin.
