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Finally, he whispered, “What’s gonna happen to me now?”
Right. The burning question. “The state will investigate and try to find any family you have out there.”
“There’s no one.”
As if the sound of Murphy’s voice had relaxed her, too, Samantha sat again. Nervous though she was, she’d told me she thought we were meant to meet Murphy. Actually, she was pretty adamant about it. “Your mom didn’t have a sister or brother? Cousins? Do you have grandparents?”
“No. They died before I was born. At least, that’s what she said, and she said her sister died a long time ago, too, like when she was my age.”
My next question made me nervous, but I had to ask, “What about your dad?”
“Don’t know who he is. Never met him.”
“Well, still,” I said, feeling relieved, but it made my heart race to think about why. “They’ll look for him. But if they can’t find anyone, you might have to live in a group home till they can find a foster family or an adoption situation.”
Fear clouded Murphy’s eyes, and he looked between Samantha and me. “Strangers?”
“Maybe, but it was a good thing for me. I went to a boys’ home, and that’s where my adoptive parents found me.”
“You got adopted? And they treated you good?”
“They did,” I said, realizing again what a big fucking idiot I’d been where my parents were concerned. “They were real good to me. They still are.”
He was picking at his blanket, pulling at a loose string. “You know my name ain’t really Murphy, right?”
“Dakota. The nurse told us.”
“It’s a cool name,” Samantha said.
He shrugged.
Cool or not, I wanted him to feel some kind of control over his own life. “What would you like to be called?”
He looked up, surprised he had a choice. I doubted anyone else would use the nickname, but he’d always be Murphy to Samantha and me.
“I like Murphy.”
I smiled. “Me too, kiddo.”
We were quiet for a minute while he thought things through. Then he asked, “Could I live with you guys?”
“Uh—”
“Oh, Murphy.” I could hear in Samantha’s voice that tears had already started.
I’d tried, but I couldn’t stop myself from imagining that very thing. We’d discussed it with CPS, but there were still too many moving parts: Samantha and I weren’t married, we didn’t have a license to foster, they were still looking for his family, and he hadn’t even been released from the hospital yet.
“Never mind. You guys probably got your own family. It was a stupid thing to say.”
“No, w-we don’t have a family,” she said. “But it’s a lot more complicated than just saying yes.”
We’d been instructed not to tell him we were looking into it. We weren’t allowed to give the kid hope of anything.
But maybe he saw it in my eyes.
Murphy sat up straighter in his bed. “But you could ask, right? I mean, you’re a cop. They’ll trust you.”
It was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do not to smile then, ’cause I was trying like hell not to get my hopes up too.
