Well something happens when you find someone
Who makes you feel like you can do no wrong
No you don't have to take the whole world on
Just be tender when you want to be
--from Tender When I Want To Be by Mary Chapin Carpenter

I was nearly 12 when Aunt Melinda told me we were going to the adoption agency.

I was thrilled, really and truly, and wanted to go right away. A lot of kids my age didn't like the idea of having a little brother or sister, but I wanted nothing more than a sibilng. I had a thing with kids, I suppose. And maybe it wasn't even a sibling I wanted; it was more like wanting a child myself. At least, that's how it ended up feeling.
"Really?" I bounded around the kitchen happily, trying to take Aunt Melinda's attention away from the casserole she was cooking. "When? When?"
"Soon," she said calmly. I sighed impatiently and tugged on her sleeve.
"I'd like a date, Melly." She never minded that I didn't call her Aunt Melinda. In fact, ever since I had moved in with her, she didn't mind much. "When exactly?" Aunt Melinda stirred the casserole mildly.
"Sometime tomorrow."
"Really?" My voice was nearly a squeal. I threw my arms around her aproned waist in a tight hug. "Great! Did they tell you anything about the kid you're getting?" She laughed with the kind of patience that only adults are blessed with.
"You make it sound like the Home Shopping Network, Mary," Aunt Melinda said good-naturedly, and gave the casserole another stir. "And it's a baby, actually. A baby boy. Almost a year old."
"A baby boy," I echoed blissfully. I smiled up at her and tugged on her apron. "One more question, Melly. What's his name?" She paused, thinking, then nodded.
"Oh, yes. Isaac." I let go and sighed quietly.
"Isaac," I repeated, and danced towards the living room. "You still have my old baby stuff from Mom and Dad?"
"Sure do," Aunt Melinda called after me. "We'll get it set up tonight and pick him up tomorrow. The Agency's got everything already sorted out."
"Yahoo!" I cheered, scampering up the stairs. "I'm gonna go get some of my old toys for baby Isaac!" I was so happy that night. If you would've told me what was to come in the next couple of years, I would've laughed right in your face. And probably stomped on your toes, too.

We walked into the agency the next day with high hopes. Aunt Melinda stopped at the front desk and caught the attention of the secretary.
"Melinda Montgomery?" she asked crisply. My aunt nodded. The secretary flipped through a couple of cards, then stood and disappeared into the back room. I shifted impatiently.
"What's she doing?" Aunt Melinda glanced down at me.
"Reporting us to the police," she chuckled. "She's getting the baby, dear. They sent him here this morning." Sure enough, the next moment the secretary reappeared, a tiny baby in her arms.
"This is Isaac," she said, sounding less than interested. I hopped from foot to foot.
"I wanna see!" Aunt Melinda put a hand on my head.
"Calm down, Mary Mary Quite Contrary." I ducked away and stuck my tongue out.
"I hate that name and you know it." The secretary came around the desk and glanced from me to my aunt.
"Who wants to hold him?" I hurried over towards her.
"Me!" The secretary looked at my aunt, as if to ask, "Is she competent enough?" My aunt nodded. The secretary carefully slid the baby into my arms, making sure that I held his head up right. It might've just been me, but I thought she was a little too eager to get away from him. I didn't care; I was too busy staring at the baby.

He had the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen.

They were so dark, so very dark, with a very thin ring of gold around the pupil. I don't think anyone would've noticed that ring of gold unless they looked -- I mean, really looked -- but I saw it. And I thought it was beautiful.
"What's the matter, Mare?" Aunt Melinda's voice came from behind me, surprisingly loud. "You look like you're staring at the Eighth Wonder of the World instead of a 10 month old baby." I blinked, a little startled, and finally looked away from Isaac.
"I'm fine." I glanced back down at the dark-haired baby and smiled. "He's very cute."
"His parents were in a horrible accident," my aunt informed me. "The Agency was glad to see him go to a good home -- isn't that right?"
"Indeed," said the secretary thinly. "Ms. Montgomery, would you sign this for me, please?" Aunt Melinda turned back to the desk. I stared at the baby, fascinated by how tiny and delicate he was.
"Hi, Isaac," I murmured, touching the tip of his nose lightly. He jerked away a little; I figured it was because I was too close to his eyes. I was undaunted, however. I brought up a finger to stroke his cheek gently, amazed at how soft his skin was. Needless to say, my maternal instinct was running wild.
"Mary," said my aunt, startling me yet again. "Here's the bottle I brought. You want to feed him before we get in the car?"
"Yeah," I said readily, and took the bottle of milk from her. I turned my gaze back to Isaac, smiling happily. "Here you go, Isaac. Drink up." I lowered the tip to his mouth. He jerked away again, and this time it hit me kind of personally. Insistent, I held my ground. "Come on, sweetheart," I urged quietly. Isaac stared up at me, eyes narrowing in a sort of cold shrewdness. I have to tell you, honestly and truthfully, I've never seen a baby look like that: before or ever again. It was the untrusting look of one who's been hurt too many times. It frightened me, but also struck up sympathy from somewhere within me. "It won't hurt you," I murmured, keeping it close to his mouth. "I promise." The secretary was watching, I noticed out of the corner of my eye. I resisted the urge to make a face at her and kept my eyes on the baby. Isaac looked at it warily, that age-old look still lingering -- before he surrendered and opened his mouth, taking a grateful drink from the bottle. The secretary relaxed; Aunt Melinda put a hand on my shoulder.
"Let's go home," she said, smiling. I nodded, tipping up the bottle the way she had shown me.
"Yeah. Let's go home."

The first couple of weeks were the hardest. Isaac was fussy a lot, always wanting to cry and just waiting for the right moment to let loose a good long scream. Aunt Melinda insisted that it was because he missed his parents, but I wasn't so sure. Nevertheless, I loved him -- a lot, I soon discovered -- and was willing to put up with anything he did. I changed diapers, filled bottles, cleaned up baby food, picked up toys... and by the time the day was over, I was exhausted. But -- every morning at 2 a.m. without fail -- Isaac would wake up screaming, and that would be my cue to get up and give him a bottle before his little head blew up. I was lucky it was summer, because I most certainly wouldn't have made it during the school year. I was totally drained.

And I loved every minute of it.