NotKindle.com ( No Worries ) . 100% FREE

edge of town and the road stretched out before them. She had looked down at William, at his tired face and his trusting eyes, and she had felt a surge of love that almost broke her. "Don t worry, baby," she had whispered. "We re going to find a home. I promise." The hunger had been worse than ever in those days. Ruth had barely enough money for a bus ticket, let alone food. She had gone days without eating, surviving on water and sheer determination. She had watched William eat scraps, had given him the last of everything, had told herself that it was worth it. But there were moments when the hunger was almost too much to bear, when her body was wracked with pain and her mind was clouded with exhaustion. There were moments when she wondered if she could go on, if she had the strength to keep fighting, if there was any hope left. In those moments, she had looked at William, at his pale hair and his winter blue eyes, and she had found the strength to keep going. She had found the will to survive, the determination to protect him, the love that had carried her through every hardship. She had made a promise to herself, a promise that she would never give up, that she would never stop fighting, that she would find a way to give her son the life he deserved. It was a promise that had sustained her through the darkest nights, the hardest days, the moments when hope seemed lost. And it was a promise she intended to keep. CHAPTER NINE: THE PHOTOGRAPH The photograph was Ruth s most precious possession, a worn and faded picture of a man with kind eyes and a gentle smile. It was the only thing she had of James, the only proof that he had existed, that the love had been real. She had carried it with her everywhere, tucked into her pocket, pressed against her heart. She had looked at it every night, tracing the lines of his face with her finger, trying to remember the sound of his voice, the warmth of his touch. She had closed her eyes and imagined him there with her, imagined his arms wrapped around her, imagined the life they could have had. William had asked about the photograph once, his curious eyes studying the face of the man he would never know. They had been sitting in a bus station, waiting for a ride, and William had noticed the photograph in her hand. "Who is that, Mama?" he had asked, his voice small and curious. Ruth had felt a surge of grief, a pain so sharp it took her breath away. She had looked at the photograph, at the face of the man she had loved, and she had felt the weight of all the years that had passed, all the dreams that had died, all the hopes that had been dashed. "That s your father," she had said, her voice soft and trembling. "He was a good man. A kind man. He loved us very much." "Where is he now?" William had asked. Ruth had shaken her head, her eyes filled with tears. "I don t know, baby. I don t know where he is. But I know that he loved us, and that he would have stayed if he could." She had looked at William, at his pale hair and his winter blue eyes, at the face that was so much like his father s. She had felt a surge of love