I thought my sister had opened her heart to a child who desperately needed a family. Then I overheard a single sentence that made me wonder whether compassion was only part of the truth.
Sunday dinners at my parents’ house always had roasted chicken and the lemon candles my mom kept lighting even though nobody asked her to. That particular Sunday, a few months back, started like any other.
Then my older sister, Ellie, set down her fork, glanced at her husband, Henry, and cleared her throat the way she used to before school presentations.
« So, » she said, « Henry and I have been talking. We want to adopt. »
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