Just then, the door opened and Emily Carter, the local elementary school teacher, stepped inside. She had come to drop off paperwork, but froze when she saw the tiny body on the exam table.
Five years earlier, Emily had lost her six-month-old daughter to a sudden illness. Since then, she had avoided cradling babies. The pain had been too sharp.
“Emily,” Dr. Collins said urgently, “I need help. She’ll need round-the-clock care.”
Emily hesitated. The baby’s eyes opened and met hers.
Something inside Emily—something she thought had died—stirred.
“I’ll help,” she whispered.
When the doctor placed the baby in her arms, the crying softened. The little girl clutched Emily’s finger with surprising strength. Emily began humming a lullaby she hadn’t sung in years.
The baby relaxed.
Caleb felt his throat tighten.
For three days, Caleb and Emily took turns caring for her. Bottle feedings every two hours. Monitoring her breathing. Keeping her warm.
On the third day, when her color returned and her breathing steadied, Emily said softly, “We can’t keep calling her ‘the baby.’ She needs a name.”
Caleb looked at her.
“Hope,” Emily said. “Because that’s what she is.”
Caleb nodded. “Hope.”