I stood on shaky legs.
“It’s really you,” I whispered. “Little Dale Martinez.”
He smiled — and for a split second he looked like that five-year-old boy again.
“Not so little anymore,” he said.
He crossed the distance and hugged me like I was family.
Like I was safe.
Debbie wiped her eyes.
“Dad… this is her.”
Dale pulled back, hands on my shoulders.
“Debbie told me what happened,” he said, his voice turning hard. “Your son. The nursing home.”
I tried to shrink out of habit.
“I’m just a foolish old woman who—”
“Stop,” he said firmly. “You are the woman who changed my life.”
Then he did something I didn’t expect.
He offered me a home.
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