The Yellow Sock: An Adoption Story Read Online Free PDF

refrigerator. “I’m looking at that.”
    She felt his arms tighten around her when he realized the significance of her words. “Does this mean . . .” he let his voice fade away.
    “Let’s adopt one or two just like her.” Turning, Megan slid her arms around his neck. “And if that goes well, we can try for three or four. Let’s take as many as we can handle.”
    Dave looked at her, his eyes wide and questioning, then his mouth relaxed into a surprised smile. “Let’s do it,” he whispered, pushing a lock of hair away from her cheek. “I’m with you, Meg.”
    “And I’m with you, honey, no matter what.” She waited until a sudden rise of emotion died down and she could control her wavering voice. “For as long as it takes, no matter what it takes. Let’s wait on the Lord and see what He has in mind for this family.”
    Then she stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to her husband’s, hope and promise and acceptance all mingled in her kiss.
     

Chapter Three
     
     
    Two months later, on an unseasonably warm afternoon in September, Megan clung to Dave’s hand as they followed a winding sidewalk to a small brick building. A painted sign hung on the wall beside the glass door: Central Virginia Social Services .
    A confusing rush of anticipation and dread whirled inside her as Dave opened the door. She’d made this appointment only a few days after their decision to pursue adoption, and during the intervening weeks she had read every book she could find on the process. She consoled her impatient heart with the knowledge that they were moving forward, and her reading had armed her with at least a cursory knowledge of what to expect in the process known as a home study. The Alta Vista social worker, Belinda Bishop, would investigate to determine whether she and Dave would be fit parents. And if she approved them, after completing her report she would place their names into a state database of waiting parents. When a child in Virginia became available, the database would be scanned for a possible match.
    The process was simple and straightforward . . . and might possibly prove to be the most dreadful experience of her life.
    The plain tile floor in the social services building was worn and dull, but clean. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead and shone upon glossy beige walls in the narrow corridor. Dave paused beside a door bearing a nameplate: Belinda Bishop. The door to the office stood open, and at the sound of his hesitant rap, the woman at the desk inside lifted her head.
    Without being told, Megan might have guessed this woman was a social worker. Belinda Bishop had shoulder-length brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and wore a long skirt with long-sleeved, full-cut blouse. The only trace of makeup upon her smooth face was a hint of lip gloss. The eyes that shone from behind the glasses were friendly and open.
    “Mr. and Mrs. Wingfield?” she asked, standing. She stepped out from behind the desk and offered her hand first to Megan, then to Dave. “I’ve been expecting you.”
    As Megan and Dave murmured brief “pleased-to-meet yous,” Belinda picked up a folder, then gestured toward the hallway. “My office is really too cramped for meetings like this. There’s a conference room down the hall.”
    They followed her to another room, still small, but unencumbered with heavy furniture. A sofa sat against the far wall, a faded wing chair faced it. A toy box sat off to the side, and above it, a bulletin board featured several black and white pictures of smiling children—all school age, Megan thought, noticing how many were missing their front teeth. First grade and up, from the looks of them.
    Belinda gestured toward the sofa, and Megan and Dave sat down. Dave immediately reached for Megan’s hand, and she didn’t resist. Any physical display of marital harmony had to help their cause . . . or would Belinda think they were pretending in an attempt to aid their case?
    “Well, now.” Belinda sat in the