Richard Miller’s existence had been reduced to silence by 1979.
He was a widow at the age of thirty-four; his wife, Aipe, had passed away two years prior following a protracted illness.
His residence, which was previously replete with the aspirations of children, now resounded with a sense of absence.
Richard’s evenings were the most challenging: He sat at the kitchen table, gazing at the disintegrating painted paper under the yellowish light of a single bulb, while the ticking of the clock reminded him to pass the time.
His acquaintances encouraged him to remarry, to begin anew, and to alleviate the emptiness.
However, Richard was not inclined to initiate anew.
He was obligated to fulfill the pledge Apple had made to him on the hospital bed: “Do not allow love to perish with me.” Please provide me with a destination.
The promise he made motivated him to continue, as he was uncertain of the direction it would lead until his old, rainy pickup vehicle malfunctioned near the Santa Maria Orphanage on the outskirts of the city.
His muffled lament dragged him down the dark hallway as he went inside to use the phone, shaking off the wetness.
Rows of boxes were situated adjacent to one another in the narrow chamber.
Two females, both of whom had dark skin and large brown eyes, extended their fragile arms within the room.
The sounds were not simultaneous; rather, they were superimposed: one whimpering, another licking, and others moaning, forming a heartbreaking chorus.
Richard’s body remained frozen.
Nine infants.
She was observed by a teenage nurse.
She explained in a low voice that the girls had been discovered together, brought down on the church steps at night, and returned to the same residence.
“There are only two of you,” she repeated in a subdued voice. “I am amenable to adopt you, possibly two, but all of you.” She will soon separate them.
The term “separated” penetrated him like a blade.
Richard considered the plea of Appe, which was based on his conviction that the family was not based on blood but on election.
He choked up as he gasped, “What if someone takes them all?”
The nurse nearly burst into laughter.
“The infants? No one is capable of raising infants, sir. I am not the only one. Not even. Individuals would regard you as insane.”
However, Richard was unable to hear their inquiries any longer.
He approached the residences, and one of the infants gazed at him with astonished inquiry, as if he recognized him.
His hand was seized by another individual.
A third individual exclaimed with laughter.
Something inside him cracked.
The emptiness that had been burdensome evolved into something more substantial, yet alive.
Accountability.
“I will accept them,” he declared.
A administrative conflict ensued as a result of the decision.
She was referred to as imprudent by social workers.
Her relatives referred to her as an absolute imbecile.
Neighbors were snorting behind their curtains, inquiring as to what a white man was doing with black infants.
A few individuals were uttering even more disgusting statements.
Nevertheless, Richard yielded.
To purchase formula, diapers, and supplies, she sold her vehicle, Appe’s jewelry, and her personal tools.
She requested additional work at the factory, worked overtime at the restaurant, and repaired roofs on weekends.
Those children were the beneficiaries of every penny.
She constructed their residences by hand, boiled infant bottles on the stove, and washed piles of dyed clothing in her backyard in a manner reminiscent of war tubs.
He discovered that each infant was soothed by each touch.
He acquired the ability to braid hair with his clumsy fingertips.
He was fearful of losing even his breath, and he spent the nights awake, catching his breath in the dark.
He was perceived as a harsh individual by the external community.
Suspicions were aroused by the mothers at the school.
The supermarkets were filled with strangers who fixed their gaze on him.
The man once spat at his feet and jeered, “You will regret this.”
However, regret never materialized.
Rather, it was the first time the two shared a chuckle upon their arrival at the music store.
There will be nights when the power is interrupted by storms, and he will hold them all until they fall unconscious in his arms.
Birthdays will feature cakes that are misaligned, and Christmas mornings will feature pairs of hands tearing apart old newspaper and wrapped presents.
Outsiders referred to them as the “Nine Millers.”
Richard considered them to be their daughters.
Sarah’s loudest laugh, Roth’s shy grasp on his shirt, Naomi and Esther’s cookie cutters, Leah’s tender compassion, Mary’s silent fortress, and Happiness, Rachel, and Deborah, who were inseparable and always filled the house with chatter, all developed their own unique personalities.
It was a challenging endeavor.
Her body was worn down by unending torment, and money was scarce, yet she allowed her despair to manifest.
She was a source of strength to her daughters, and this conviction served as her source of strength.
The test was successfully passed by them, demonstrating that genuine love was more powerful than prejudice.
By the late 1990s, her hair had thinned, her back had become stooped, and the girls had transformed into women who embarked on their own families, careers, and college education.
The home fell silent once more, but Richard was aware that the silence was distinct this time.
It was not devoid of content; rather, it was filled with it.
He sat alone with the marred photo of the small pearls on her necklace the night the last daughter passed away and said, “I kept my promise, Appe.”
Decades have transpired.
Teachers, nurses, artisans, and mothers prospered.
They established their lives, but they consistently returned home for the holidays, filling their home with an abundance of heat that threatened to rupture the walls.
Richard, who was once subjected to criticism and derision, survived to witness the realization of his potential.
Richard sat in his graceful chair, frail but dignified, 46 years later in 2025.
Radiant women in cream-colored dresses surrounded him, their hands resting gently on each other’s shoulders and their faces beaming with pride.
Cameras were activated, and headlines were displayed: He adopted two black daughters in 1979. Behold them at this moment.
