She hurried to where she’d left her babies and quickly attached the stolen license plate to the rear bumper of her husband’s car.
She drove into the night, her foot pressed firmly to the accelerator, careful not to exceed posted speed limits. The lives of her children depended on her getting away from her abusive husband.
Her first inclination was to head for the mountains of New Mexico or Colorado. Surely, she could hide there.
And support her babies how? She didn’t have a job. If she had a job, she didn’t have the money it would take to pay for daycare. And who would hire her without her showing a valid driver’s license or a Social Security card?
The gravity of her situation weighed heavily on her. She had to provide for her babies and herself, or they’d starve. How could she do that, keep them safe and hide them at the same time?
With every passing hour, she realized she couldn’t. Couldn’t provide for them. Couldn’t keep them safe. She’d always be on the run. If she stopped running long enough to make money for food or diapers, he’d find her. And when he found her, he’d find the babies.
He’d kill them.
Her heart lodged in her throat as the only option she could think of to keep them alive surfaced. She had to give them up.
Anonymously.
She’d have to leave them somewhere safe. A place familiar with taking care of infants. Preferably a hospital.
But she couldn’t leave both of them in the same place. Twins were rare enough; they’d make the news. If the news reported twins being abandoned, he might see it, might be looking for such an announcement and claim them. A DNA test would prove they were his. He’d have access to the testing and expedite the process.
She glanced in the rearview mirror at the two car seats, tears blurring her vision. How could she give up the only two humans she loved more than life? They were twins. Never separated. Because she’d only had one crib, they’d been together since birth—even at the hospital in the NICU. Splitting them up would be devastating, not only to her but to them.
Swallowing a sob, she headed northeast, avoiding toll roads, taking Highway 69 through Oklahoma. Twice she’d had to swerve to keep from hitting a deer. She’d only stopped once at a truck stop where 69 crossed Interstate 40. She’d purchased diapers, fuel, a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. She’d spent a few precious minutes changing diapers and nursing the babies, her gaze glued to the clock on the dash, anxiety mounting. Her children fussed when she put them back in their car seats, but the rumble of the engine and the rocking movement of the car eating up the miles soon had them sleeping peacefully again.
Fear kept her awake through the darkest hours of the night. Having ditched her cell phone, she hadn’t been able to rely on GPS. At a rest stop at the border of Texas and Oklahoma, she’d memorized the map on the wall, noting the smaller state highways that would get her through the state. She stopped again on the border of Oklahoma and Kansas.
At 3:15 in the morning, she drove through Kansas City, unsure whether she was on the Kansas or the Missouri side of town. The sky was dark, with only the streetlights to guide her as she hoped to find a sign for a hospital.
Despite the need to hurry, her foot eased off the accelerator. She loved her babies. The thought of leaving them made her chest ache unbearably, and her eyes filled with tears. If she didn’t find a fire station soon, she might chicken out and keep driving. Maybe she’d go all the way to the Canadian border and sneak them across in the dead of the night.
At that moment, a sign came into view, indicating the direction to a hospital. She turned in that direction and followed signs until she came to a massive, well-lit building.
Her heart lodged in her throat, making it difficult to breathe.
One of the babies whimpered.
Could she do it? Could she leave her baby and walk away?
How would she sneak into the hospital carrying an infant and not draw attention?
She circled the hospital, trying to decide which entrance to approach. Each baby was small enough to fit inside her large diaper bag. What she needed was a distraction to allow her to get inside unnoticed.
An ambulance roared past her, heading for the emergency room, followed by a car with its hazard lights blinking.
Instinctively, she made a quick U-turn and followed.
The ambulance drove into the emergency drive-thru area, stopped and the back door swung open. It was the distraction she needed.
Her breath hitched on a sob as she drove to the first parking area, closest to the emergency room entrance.
This was it. The moment she’d dreaded. Heart thundering against her ribs and tears blurring her vision, she second-guessed her decision.
“Is there any other way?” she asked herself aloud.
She turned in her seat and stared at her sleeping babies. More tears slid down her cheeks. Born premature, they were so tiny. So helpless.
So deserving of a life she couldn’t give them. A better life. One where loving couples would give them everything they wanted and needed. A life in which they didn’t have to fear their father would kill them.
