"No, that sounds just about right to me," I tell Molly. And I mean it. She looks... at peace, I think, is the best way to put it. Someone who doesn't want to be a mother right now, but who has enough love and care in her heart to want to make sure her girl goes to a good home, a home where she'll be nurtured and loved. Not that I think Molly would have ever been the kind of parent who didn't love her child. Maybe it's naive of me, but I think Molly has enough love in her heart for that much, to love a child who did nothing wrong in the world, to love a child that she still is forever bonded to in some way.

So I let out a little exhale, because it's done, and we're both happier for it. I hope that Abigail will be happier too, in the long run. I'm sure there will be nights soon when she cries because she doesn't know where Molly has gone. But with time, she'll realize that she can depend on me for anything.

"You should go out, really. Do something just for you," I encourage her. "And we'll do something for us. And that's how we'll know that all of this was exactly the right thing to do."