She spotted Thomas immediately and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist with a fierceness that made several people look away. Thomas held her close, his shoulders shaking as he whispered apologies she did not seem to need.
When Judge Monroe spoke, her voice was measured.
“Mr Keller,” she said, “I understand your reasons. But the law does not disappear because a situation is painful.”
Lila looked up then, her gaze drawn to the wheelchair almost instinctively. She stepped away from her father and approached the bench, her movements unhurried and confident.
“You look sad,” Lila said softly. “Like you forgot something important.”
A few people laughed, unsure how else to react.
Judge Monroe raised her hand for silence.
“What did I forget,” she asked, surprising herself with how gently the question came out.
“That people can help each other,” Lila replied. “If you help my daddy, I will help you remember how to stand.”
The courtroom held its breath.
Judge Monroe studied the child for a long moment, her mind listing reasons this was impossible, irresponsible, and inappropriate. Yet beneath those thoughts, something stirred that she had kept carefully locked away.