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black men and women going about their business, the children playing in the streets. She had seen the way they looked at her, a white woman with a white child, an anomaly, an outsider. She had known, in that moment, that she could not stay. She could not bring her son here, could not expose him to the prejudice and discrimination that she knew he would face. She could not force him to live in a world that would hate him simply because of the color of his skin. She had made her choice. She would leave him here, in this town, with these people. She would trust that they would take care of him, that they would give him the chance she could never give him. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE LAST NIGHT The last night had been the hardest night of Ruth s life. She had known what she had to do, had known it for weeks, and she had been dreading it with every fiber of her being. She had held William close, his small body warm against hers, and she had wept. "I m sorry, baby," she had whispered. "I m so sorry." He had looked up at her, his eyes filled with trust, and she had felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces. "Why are you crying, Mama?" he had asked, his voice small and worried. She had forced a smile, a brave smile, a smile that hid the pain and the fear and the grief. "I m not crying, baby. I m just... I m just tired." He had reached up and touched her face, his small hand soft against her cheek. "Don t be sad, Mama. I ll take care of you. I ll be brave for you." Ruth had felt a surge of love so powerful it almost broke her. He was so young, so innocent, so eager to protect her. He didn t understand that she was supposed to protect him, that she was supposed to keep him safe, that she was supposed to be the strong one. She had held him close, her heart aching with love and grief. She had known, in that moment, that she could not keep running forever. She had to find a way to protect him, to give him a chance, to give him a future. She had made her decision. The decision had been made months ago, but it had taken Ruth this long to accept it. She had known that she could not keep running, that she could not keep hiding, that she could not keep William safe on her own. She had known that the only way to protect her son was to give him up, to let him go. She had thought about the woman on the Greyhound, about the preacher, about the kindness of strangers. She had thought about the town of Willow Creek, about the people who lived there, about the church with the white steeple. She had made her decision. Ruth had made a promise to herself that night, a promise that she would come back for William, that she would find a way to be with him again, that she would never stop loving him. "I ll come back," she had whispered. "I don t know how, but I ll come back. I promise." She had held him close, memorizing the feel of him, the warmth of him, the love of him. She had kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. She had told him that she loved him, that she would always love him, that nothing would