Isobel and Dickie awoke early on Christmas morning.
"Morning! Happy Christmas, darling," Dickie said as he leaned over to her, planting a kiss on her cheek.
"Happy Christmas," Isobel smiled at him. "Shall we get dressed? I wonder if Catie is downstairs already."
"I imagine so. Children are usually the first ones up on Christmas morning," Dickie mused, moving over to his wardrobe, pulling out a long-sleeved button-down shirt for the day. "She probably did not want to wake us, as quiet as she is."
"I'm sure you're right," Isobel responded, pulling on her burgundy skirt. "I have her gift wrapped. I'll bring it downstairs." Isobel chuckled.
"What's so funny?" Dickie asked.
"Well," Isobel remarked, "I was just thinking that we probably should have left this downstairs on the coffee table for her to find this morning. After all, it's Santa who brings the gifts."
Dickie laughed, "You know we quite forgot to do that. It's been a long time since I had children to plan a Christmas surprise for."
His statement struck Isobel. Her mouth hung open for a moment, and then she closed it. Since he had children. Did that mean he was thinking about her? Best not to dwell on it, Isobel, she thought to herself.
"I hope she won't mind terribly that it is just a gift from us," Dickie said as Isobel pulled the present from her drawer.
"No, I don't think she'll mind at all," Isobel replied as she opened the door to their bedroom.
The couple headed downstairs, and Dickie went into the kitchen to put a kettle on and fix toast for their breakfast. They had given their cook the day off to enjoy with her family. After all, they would be dining at the Abbey and could manage a small breakfast on their own.
Isobel waltzed into the sitting room, thinking she would find Catie at the table drawing. Catie was not there. Dickie walked in a few minutes later, tea tray in hand.
"No Catie?" Dickie inquired, peering around the room.
"Apparently," Isobel shrugged. "She must still be asleep."
"Isobel, where are you going?" Dickie watched as his wife move to exit the room. Her hand was on the door knob.
"Upstairs," Isobel told her husband. "I'm going to wake her up. It is Christmas after all."
"You most certainly will not," Dickie scolded his wife lightly. "Speaking of children at Christmas, you are practically chomping at the bits to wake her. Let the poor girl sleep. We will still be here when she wakes, so will her gift." He chuckled as his wife sat back down to her tea.
"Oh, I suppose you're right," Isobel huffed and then grinned. "Matthew was always the first one up on Christmas morning when he was a boy," she recalled with a sigh.
"So were Larry and Tim," Dickie remembered. "So, are you looking forward to seeing George this afternoon?" He turned the conversation away from their children, quick to dismiss that subject.
"Yes," Isobel remarked, "I am rather. I bought him a book he may enjoy. Hugh Lofting's The Voyages of Doctor Doolittle, a children's story. Have you heard of it? It has animals in it, which, I think, George will find fascinating to no end."
"No," Dickie laughed, "I can't say that I am up to date on the latest children's literature."
"Well, apparently, it's very popular," Isobel mentioned. "I have it wrapped upstairs ready to go." Isobel realized that she was still holding Catie's gift and placed it carefully on the coffee table, awaiting the little girl when she awoke.
…
About forty-five minutes later, the Mertons heard the sound of small footsteps in the hallway. Catie entered the sitting room, already dressed in a dark navy skirt and warm jumper. She had become used to getting ready on her own. It was something she became adept at during her stay in the hospital. Her Mama used to help her, used to pick out her clothes. It had just become another thing Catie missed.
"Happy Christmas, Catie," Isobel exclaimed as she reached for the little girl's hand, giving it a firm squeeze.
"Happy Christmas," Catie smiled in return, sitting next to Isobel on the couch.
"Happy Christmas," Dickie said as he rose from his chair, buttering a piece of toast for her. "Oops," he muttered, looking up at Catie, "I probably should have asked before I did this, but do you like butter?" Catie nodded yes. "What about jam?"
Catie shook her head no, murmuring "too sticky."
Dickie and Isobel both had a good laugh at that.
"Did you sleep well?" Dickie continued as he watched the small brunette eat.
"Yes," Catie chirped. "It was very comfy and soft," she answered as she munched on a piece of toast. "I like it better than the hospital." Catie surprised herself with that statement. Did I say that aloud?
"I'm so glad you do," Isobel said. The older woman looked wistful. She took a breath, trying hard to maintain a smiling face. I just wish you could stay forever.
Catie smiled at Isobel. I like being here, she thought to herself. With these people, I feel safe. She said a silent prayer in her head, secretly crossing herself in her mind. Maybe I could stay? Catie tried to hide her feelings, but she hoped that her wish could be answered.
Although the Mertons did not have a tree set up, it still felt like Christmas to Isobel. "Did you notice anything when you walked into the room?" She watched Catie for her reaction.
Although the small box with the red ribbon on it had not gone unnoticed, Catie giggled, "No, I didn't see anything. Was I supposed to?"
Dickie chuckled, "If she did not see anything, well, then, I guess that box on the coffee table must belong to some other little girl named Catie. Isobel, dear, do you know any other Caties? What about Catherines?" He eyed his wife, willing her to play along.
Isobel caught his drift. "Why no, darling, I don't. There must have been a mistake, and a gift just happened to arrive at the wrong location."
Catie eyed both of the adults, watching them carefully and giggling aloud. "My name is Catie," she piped up.
"Well, then, it must be for you." He grinned, handing over the present to her. "It's from Isobel and myself. Go ahead and open it."
The Mertons watched as Catie carefully tugged at the ribbon so it unlaced without damage. She then removed the wrapping paper with a certain kind of reverence – astonished that she received a present at all this year. Her Mama and Father always bought her something, but she understood that it was a blessing now for her to get anything.
Catie's eyes lit up when she saw the watercolors, brushes, paper, and other art supplies tucked neatly into a wooden keepsake box. "Thank you," she smiled as she admired the box. After a moment, she frowned, looking up at Dickie and Isobel. "But," she whispered, "I don't have anything for you."
Isobel chuckled. Isn't she thoughtful? Certainly more so than the average six-year-old. "Don't worry anything about it, dear," Isobel began, patting Catie's hand lightly. "Dickie and I do not need anything." But I do want something; I want this chance – this opportunity to be mother to you or, at least, someone who loves you as much as any mother could. Isobel pushed the thought from her mind. If she dwelled on it any longer, she felt certain that she would cry. No tears at Christmas.
Dickie smiled at Catie. "You're quite welcome. I hope you get a lot of use out of those paints. And, don't worry, Isobel and I have long gotten out of the habit of getting gifts. We enjoy giving them now."
He moved to sit beside the little girl. "What say I set you up a spot on the table? You can paint something for us before we go to the Abbey?"
Catie beamed. "All right. I'll paint some flowers." She looked up hesitantly, thinking about a request that formed in her mind. "Will…will you both draw with me?"
"Of course," the Mertons said in unison and laughed at the child's tentativeness.
"I need the practice anyways," Isobel mentioned.
"Yes," Catie spoke honestly. "You do."
…
That afternoon, the Mertons plus Catie arrived at Downton. The small brunette gazed at the large, beautiful Christmas tree standing tall near the great stairwell. Her mouth hung open, and her eyes lit up. She had never seen anything so big. The house itself was a marvel to her. She had difficulty imagining how these people could live here without getting lost inside.
Rapt in her surroundings, Catie held onto Isobel's hand. She was soon broken from her reverie by a young five-year-old boy rushing to greet his Grandmamma.
"Grandmamma! Happy Christmas!" George exclaimed as he raced into her arms.
Catie dropped Isobel's hand, ducking behind Isobel. She was not quite sure what to make of this energetic, blond boy.
"Happy Christmas, George," Isobel returned her grandson's embrace.
George then went to Dickie, "Happy Christmas, Grandpa. Is that mine?" George eyed the gift Dickie was holding behind his back.
"Happy Christmas lad," Dickie smiled. "Perhaps," he told the young fellow, "but we'll get to it later."
George then noticed the little girl hiding behind his grandmother. "Hi," he said, waving a hand at her.
"George, there is someone I want you to meet," Isobel began. "This is Catie. I hope that you two can be friends?"
Catie peered from behind Isobel until she saw a crowd enter the room to welcome the Mertons.
"Cousin Isobel, Dickie, it's very good to have you this Christmas," Robert said, shaking Dickie's hand firmly.
"Yes, we're glad you could make it." Cora noticed the little girl. "And who is this? You must be the Catie that we have heard so much about." Cora knelt a bit to meet Catie at her level. "Hello dear," she smiled, "I hope you will have fun today."
Catie shook her head in agreement. The brunette woman had a kind face and seemed welcoming enough.
"Hello Isobel," Mary said as she placed a kiss on her mother-in-law's cheek. "I'm glad you're here as I know George is. He's been rather excited since I told him you were bringing a new playmate by." Mary watched Catie come out from behind Isobel, seeming a bit more comfortable. "Would you like to go upstairs and play?" Mary asked Catie. "You are most welcome if you do."
"Come on," said George, grabbing Catie's hand. "Let's go. I have toys," he said as an enticement.
Catie looked at Isobel and Dickie, unsure of what to do.
"Go on dear," Isobel whispered in her ear, pushing her forward.
"Okay," Catie peeped. "I'll play with you." And, with that, she followed George up the stairs.
I get to play with someone. Catie thought to herself. There are awfully a lot of stairs. This is such a big house, but the family is nice. I'm not so scared as I thought I would be.
Catie made it to George's room, and he gave her a big stuffed bear. "This is Sir Ted. Grandmamma gave him to me. You can play with him," he told her.
Catie nodded her head and smiled. The two played, and soon Marigold and Sybbie joined them, while the adults enjoyed a drink downstairs. None of the children expected Catie to speak, just content to have another partner in mischief.
…
"She's a sweet girl," Cora mentioned to Isobel as the two sat down together on the sofa near the fireplace.
"Yes, she is," Isobel answered, sipping on a cocktail.
"She does not say much, does she?" Violet chuckled from her seat.
"She's rather a quiet little thing," Dickie mentioned, standing near the door, ready to be called into dinner.
"I thought you would find that rather appealing, Granny," Mary asserted.
"It makes for a nice change," Violet straightened her shoulders, adjusting herself on the chair. "George has enough energy for three children." She smiled. If truth be known, she was rather fond of her great grandson.
"He gets that from his father," Isobel mentioned, a distant look to her eyes. Her mind went back – her son, her little boy.
Violet noticed her expression. Dickie did too. They did not say anything.
At that moment, Carson came into the room, announcing that dinner was ready. The Crawleys moved to the dining room.
"I'll be with you in a moment," Violet announced. "Go ahead and start without me."
"Really?" Mary asked, eyeing her grandmother. Robert gave his mother a curious look as did Cora.
"Go on," she motioned with her cane. "Lord Merton, I was wondering if you could stay for just a moment."
Isobel eyed the Dowager. "Shall I stay too?"
"No, it is not necessary. I just need to speak with Lord Merton for a moment. It does not concern you, just a question I had about some issues. Family history – you might say," Violet declared, smiling internally at her rather clever response.
"Very well," Isobel said as she made her way out of the room.
Dickie looked at Violet. "What have I done wrong?" He wondered aloud. "You made family history sound very ominous." He moved to sit across from Violet to the sofa his wife had just vacated.
"You have done nothing wrong…yet. It is what you may decide to do that could be a mistake," Violet commented.
"What has Mary told you?" Dickie looked straight at the Dowager, now fully aware where this conversation was leading.
"Enough," Violet chortled. "Dickie," she continued, "I would like to think that you are a wise man. I trust that you care for Isobel, hmm?"
"Of course, I care for Isobel. I love her," Dickie affirmed.
"Then, why do you insist on breaking her heart?" Violet inquired, watching Dickie look away briefly. "My friend, we all have had our share of family problems. Do not let your sons and the ghost of Ada drive you away from a chance at happiness with your wife."
Dickie sighed.
Violet clutched her cane, leaning forward a bit for emphasis. "Isobel is not Ada."
"No," Dickie muttered, "she's not. But I cannot help how I feel. I failed my sons, and they resent me so very much. I cannot deal with that disappointment, that heartbreak again."
Violet rapped her cane to the floor. "You did not fail those boys. Ada taught them nothing better, and they always did take after their mother. Isobel is not like the former Lady Merton. She is too stubborn to let you fail." Violet watched Dickie carefully. He returned his gaze to the Dowager. "Dickie, may I tell you a story?"
"You're going to anyway. So, go on." Dickie clasped his hands together.
"There was once a young woman who gave up her chance at being a mother. She hid the pregnancy, did what her family wanted, and sent the child away. She regretted her decision instantaneously. It brought her great pain – something she could have been spared if she did not listen to those who thought they knew better. The child lived in Switzerland, and the mother in England." Violet paused for a moment, watching Dickie who seemed invested in the story. "One day, the woman realized that she was missing her one shot, her one opportunity to love. She fetched the child and brought her daughter back to England. For a while, she tried to hide the girl away at a farm, but it did not work. Eventually, she became the mother the girl deserved. Now, does that story mean anything to you at all? What point might you draw from it?" Violet continued to observe Dickie.
Dickie exhaled. "Well, I take it, that one should never miss out on a chance, the opportunity to care, to love. I think that is what you want me to realize. A mother's love for her child is so very strong."
"And a father's too," Violet supplied. "You love that little girl, Lord Merton. Try though you may to hide it. Don't miss this opportunity."
Dickie nodded, taking in the Dowager's words. "I think I need to talk to Isobel later tonight."
"Good," Violet chuckled. "Now, let's go eat before they wonder if we left."
"Right. And Cousin Violet?" Dickie inquired before they exited the room. "That story about the mother and the child, was there a happy ending?"
"Oh yes," the Dowager beamed, a twinkle in her eye. "A very happy ending indeed."
…
It was a wonderful Christmas spent at the Abbey. Dinner was delicious; the children played; the adults enjoyed games of charades and cards and a few drinks. George finally received his gift from his Grandmamma and insisted that she read it to him.
As the evening came to a close, Isobel sat in the playroom and read to the children, finishing the first chapter from George's new book.
"Okay, now that's it for tonight. It's time for you all to be in bed," Isobel said as Mary and Tom entered the room, ready to tuck in Sybbie and George. Edith came to collect Marigold to return with Bertie to their estate.
Isobel reached out her hand to Catie to take the little girl back to Crawley House. Dickie had been planning to walk back home, but noticed that Catie's eyes were closing.
"Did you enjoy yourself today?" Isobel asked the small brunette as they headed towards the door.
"Mmm…hmm," Catie mumbled. "I did," she yawned.
Dickie shocked his wife and picked Catie up. "Let's get this one back home," he said as Catie snuggled into his shoulder. She promptly closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Isobel chuckled and admired her husband. She had not expected Dickie to take such care. Home. Isobel could not help but notice that word. He said home. Our home. I wonder what he means. Or did he even realize he said that?
With Catie asleep, they luckily could take the car back to Crawley House without her knowing it.
…
They arrived back at Crawley House with Dickie carrying Catie inside. The little girl was sound asleep in his arms. He walked up the stairs and into the guest room. Isobel pulled down the blankets, and Dickie laid Catie on the bed. They tucked her in and exited the room.
Dickie stretched, rubbing his lower back with the palms of his hands. "Been quite a while since I have done that," he commented. "Not as easy now as it was when I was twenty-five."
"You made it up the stairs though," Isobel remarked, smiling at her husband. "Let's go to bed." Dickie followed his wife into their bedroom, closing the door behind him.
Isobel sat in front of her vanity, removing the pins from her hair and unclasping her necklace.
"Isobel?" Dickie began, rather nervously. He waited until she would look at him.
She remained looking at her mirror. "Yes, Dickie? I can see your reflection in the mirror. What is it?"
He cleared his throat. "I prefer if you would look at me directly. There is something I have been meaning to discuss with you. I hadn't quite found the words until now." He sat on the edge of their bed, placing his jacket beside him.
Isobel turned in the stool, facing directly at her husband. She watched him carefully. "And what is it that you have been meaning to tell me?" She breathed.
"Isobel, there is no getting around the fact that we…or rather I…am not as young as I once was. I know you, my dear, and I know that you are angry with me," he began.
She sighed in exasperation, beginning to turn back to the mirror. "Let's not start this again. I too know you, Dickie Merton. And I doubt your answer has changed."
Dickie chuckled. "You can be an infuriating woman at times, you are aware of that?" He clasped his hands and slipped his shoes off his feet. "No matter. Please hear me out. You know that my relationship with my sons is, for lack of a better word, damaged?"
She returned her attention to her husband. She felt the pain in his voice and walked over to sit beside him. "Yes, I know. I wish it wasn't. Sometimes I still blame myself for being the final nail in the coffin." Isobel shrugged her shoulders, giving her husband's hand a squeeze.
"You are never that, Isobel," Dickie assured her, "you never could be that." He met her eyes. "I envy the relationship you had with Matthew. I wish I had that with my children, but it wasn't to be. Now, this Catie has come along, and, you say you want to adopt her." Dickie wrung his hands. "And I fear…I fear, Isobel, that it won't be any different. That young girl will grow to resent me just as my sons do. What right do I have to try again? I couldn't even get it right with Larry and Tim." He brought a hand to his face and then to his hair, raking it nervously.
Isobel sat quiet for a moment, staring at their bedroom wall. She took a breath and then returned her eyes to her husband. "Is that why you say no? You're afraid of letting Catie down?" The sentiment struck Isobel, and she felt a twinge of pain for her husband. He must love her after all.
"Yes," Dickie replied, "that is why I said no. My failure seems to be inevitable."
"Oh, Dickie," Isobel let a tear escape. "No, no, don't ever think that. You won't fail. You have never failed. No parent is perfect, nor is any relationship. You'll crash sometimes, that's certain. But so long as you are there, you will not fail her." She placed an arm around his waist. "Dickie, I want this. I love her. You love her. You deserve this second chance. Won't you take it with me? I won't let you fall." She kissed his forehead.
"I do love you. While you were at dinner, Lady Violet told me a story."
"What story?" Isobel inquired.
"About a mother who almost missed her chance, but she realized what a fool she had been." Dickie met his wife's eyes, taking her hands in his, bringing them close to his chest. "I've been that fool to almost miss this opportunity. Yes, Isobel, my answer is yes. I will take this chance, so long as you're with me."
Isobel beamed. "Thank you, my darling, thank you. I don't think we will regret it."
"No, I suspect you're right," Dickie laughed.
Isobel stood up elated. "I could almost rush in and wake up Catie to tell her, if it wasn't so late."
Dickie smiled. "But, you won't. Besides, let's wait until we know for sure that we can adopt her. We need to speak with some people and get the paperwork filed. We do not know if it will all go through. Let's not say anything to her just yet. We will take her to the hospital tomorrow and wait until we know for sure. Then, my darling, then we ask her if she wants us."
Isobel nodded her head in agreement. "You're right. You're absolutely right. We need to know for sure if the adoption will go through before we tell her…I mean…ask her. We don't want to get anyone's hopes up and upset her any further." Isobel felt that she could spin around the room. She had not been this happy in a long time. "Oh, Dickie, if she says yes, her wish, that letter." She planted a firm kiss on his lips.
"I know, my darling, I know," he whispered in her ear. "A bright New Year for us all." He chuckled.
"Let's go to bed," she said eyeing her husband, resting her arms around his neck.
"I've missed hearing you say that," he sighed. Dickie surprised his wife and gently picked her up, placing her on their bed.
"I thought your back was hurting you. Too old to be lifting things," she giggled as he worked on her buttons.
"Never," he assured her. "And certainly never too old to carry my bride."
"Bride?" Isobel raised her eyebrows. "Hardly that. You make me sound so very young." She kissed his neck.
"And I hope I always do," he replied, claiming her lips. The void between them had disappeared. No dark chasm would swallow them. They had crossed the bridge, and neither one had fallen, now safe in each other's arms.
…
When they awoke the next morning tangled in each other's arms, Isobel asked her husband, "So, what finally changed your mind?"
"I suppose the Dowager talked some sense into me," he chuckled, attempting to get up from his wife's grip.
Isobel kissed the crook of his neck, tightening her hold. "Remind me to thank Cousin Violet later," she said.
Dickie raised his brow. "My darling, if you thank her, I fear you may never hear the end of it."
Isobel laughed and finally released her husband after a few moments. She got up out of bed. "Perhaps not. I think I best keep quiet then."
"I would suggest that. Lady Violet is already incredibly pleased with herself that we got married, as if it was her doing," Dickie remarked.
"Well," Isobel acquiesced, "she did give me the nudge I needed to storm the castle."
The two got dressed, preparing themselves to take Catie back to the hospital as originally intended.
…
Catie awoke in the guest bed that morning. But this does feel nice, she thought as she snuggled into the covers. She knew it wasn't to last. This morning, they would take her back to the hospital.
Catie was unsure how much longer she was to stay there or when that inspector would come to take her back to her house. Back to the Connolly home, for that was where she would go, wasn't it? The thought of an orphanage had never crossed Catie's mind. She knew what one was, to be sure. But she hoped that maybe Santa would answer her wish. Maybe Mama and Father had some family. I've just never met anyone, she mused. Mama and Father are Irish. My family is in Ireland, not here in England. But…I do like Dickie and Isobel. Maybe they like me too?
The poor little thing had not realized that no one was coming. No family member existed or could be found to take her. Unbeknownst to Catie, the inspector had planned to take her to the orphanage in Manchester. She did not know yet that Dickie and Isobel had plans to intervene.
Throwing on an old navy dress and jumper, Catie walked carefully down the steps into the sitting room. She gathered up her new box of art material, bringing it back upstairs to place it gently in her suitcase. She emerged from the guest room again and saw Dickie and Isobel exit their chamber at the same time.
"Good morning, dear," Isobel beamed at Catie. Her smile was full of warmth and love. "Ready for breakfast?"
Catie nodded. She looks so happy and pretty today. I hope she had a good Christmas yesterday. I did. Well, better than I thought I would anyways.
"Good," Dickie ruffled her hair and laughed. Catie gave him an odd look, but she giggled anyways. She was not expecting him to do that. "Have you packed yet?"
Catie nodded again, and her face fell. "Yes," she sighed. Then, she felt a little bit brave. "Can…could I come here again? See you and Isobel again?" She asked. Her eyes darted between the couple.
Isobel gave Dickie a cheerful look. "I hope so, dear. I really hope you enjoyed your time here. I loved having you," Isobel emphasized, placing a gentle hand on Catie's cheek.
"I did." Catie shook her head vigorously. Maybe I can spend more time with them. I think I would like that. I think I love them.
It was the first time that the sentiment crossed Catie's mind, and a smile formed on her face. I love them. I don't want to go with anyone I don't know. I love Dickie and Isobel. Maybe they love me too?
Isobel noticed the grin on Catie's face. "What are you thinking about?" She inquired as they walked down the steps and into the kitchen.
"Oh, nothing," Catie replied. I hope they love me too.
…
After breakfast, Dickie and Isobel grabbed Catie's suitcase and walked back to the hospital. When they made their way into the children's ward, they noticed that Catie's bed had been occupied by another sick child, and they exited the room, not quite sure what to do.
Doctor Clarkson saw them as they rounded the corner to his office. "Oh, Nurse Grey," he said. "Lord Merton," he nodded to Dickie, "enjoy your Christmas?"
"We did rather," Isobel replied. "I see the children's ward has gained more patients," she ventured.
"Yes," Doctor Clarkson flustered, "it's this retched bug that has been going around. Children have been particularly susceptible to it. I've moved Catie into another private room so she won't catch anything." He led the way down the hall and to the right, opening up a white washed door to a very small room with a single bed. It certainly looked more depressing than the children's ward. "I'm sorry," Doctor Clarkson muttered, "it's all we have available."
"It's all right," Catie replied, walking into the room. She hoped that she would not have to stay here too long.
"The inspector plans to return next week sometime," Doctor Clarkson informed the Mertons.
"Very good," Dickie answered. "Listen, Catie," he grabbed the brunette's hands. "Isobel and I need to talk with Doctor Clarkson and return home. Until we see each other again, my little friend," he said as he placed a finger to her nose.
Catie smiled.
"I'll be back tomorrow," Isobel told Catie. "For a drawing lesson," she added. "Right now, I have work that needs to be done." Isobel knelt down and placed a hand to Catie's cheek.
Catie stared into Isobel's eyes for a minute. They're kind, like Mama's, she thought. Catie gave Isobel's other hand a squeeze. "I'll see you tomorrow," she chirped.
"Tomorrow," Isobel affirmed.
…
The Mertons then made their way into Doctor Clarkson's office and informed him of their intentions to adopt Catie.
"I thought you might," Doctor Clarkson eyed Isobel, watching her as she bit her lip.
"Yes, well, there is still more to be done," she replied.
"Paperwork must be filed. Calls should be made. Do you have that inspector's number? The orphanage?" Dickie asked Doctor Clarkson.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," Doctor Clarkson replied as he rummaged through his desk. He found the numbers and wrote them down for the Mertons. "Here," he said, handing a slip of paper over to Dickie.
"Thank you," Dickie replied.
"Come on, Dickie," Isobel instructed, "we have to go home. We have some phone calls to make."
The couple headed home and set the process to adopt Catie in motion.
Hello readers! I hope you enjoyed this very long chapter. A lot happened, didn't it? Leave me a review and let me know what you think. There's a bit of a bumpy road ahead.