It was the same woman who had raised her in the orphanage the same gentle soul who once called her “my child.”
Tears instantly welled in Sister Evelyn’s eyes.
“Oh… my child…” she breathed, voice breaking as she wrapped her trembling arms around Zara. She didn’t dare ask what had happened because clearly, if life had been kind, Zara wouldn’t be sleeping at a bus stop with her daughter.
Sister Evelyn squeezed her hands warmly.
“Please, my child… get in the car.”
Zara hesitated, ashamed and unsure, but when she glanced at little Lilly shivering beside her, she nodded. Moments later, the warmth of the car’s heater filled the silence.
“Are you cold, my dear?” Sister Evelyn whispered, adjusting the heat. Zara said nothing… she simply stared ahead, disbelief and gratitude flooding her heart
