Baron

“Hi mom.” Baron says trying not to hug her. I can’t tell if it is because he is reluctant to walk away from me, or if he just doesn’t want to hug her. I hope it is not the latter. I would give anything to have a mom to hug right now.

“Don’t hi mom me. Get up here and hug your mama.” she says to him. He sighs and walks up to her. She wraps her arms around him and kisses his cheek.

“My sweet boy. I am always happy to see you.” she says to him, before releasing him and turning her attention to me. “Are you going to introduce me?”

“Yes. Of course.” He motions to me. I walk further up the stairs and into his arms. “Mom, I would like for you to meet my Francesca.” I can’t stop fidgeting with my fingers trying to figure out what to say.

“Oh my. I never thought I would see the day one of my boys brought a girl home. Aren’t you beautiful?” She says, smiling at me and covering her mouth.

“Thank you, ma’am. It’s so nice to meet you.” I extend my hand, not sure what else to do.

“There will be no handshaking in this house, young lady. You have obviously had an impact on my boy, and he must really see a future with you to bring you home. Come and hug me sweet girl.” She opens her arms and I find myself falling into them.

There is something about getting affection from a mom that calls to me, and I am not disappointed. I am warmer and more at ease than I have been since I lost my own. How could Baron not reach for this feeling every chance he gets?

I don’t know how long we are standing here with me wrapped in her arms. We are finally pulled apart by the deepest voice I have ever heard.

“Dear, I am sure the girl would like to breathe.” Pulling back, I am met with a man who looks almost like he could be Dermott Mulroney from My Best Friend’s Wedding. He is tall, slender, and a bit pale. But totally a silver fox. It would help if I watched the news, but I don’t. So I have never seen the senator before.

“Hello. My name is Kieran and it is so nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you sir.”

“None of this sir silliness. My son brought you home. That makes you a part of this family. You can call me Kieran or dad. Got it?” I nod my head and laugh even as the tears fall.

“Got it.” I answer in between the tears. His mom wraps her arms around my shoulders and ushers me inside. Whoa doesn’t even begin to cover it. I will simply say, silver and white. Everywhere.

“You come with me while the guys finish grilling. My other sons should be here soon. In the meantime, let’s get to know one another.” We spend the next hour talking. I tell her about my parents, my exchange, college, meeting Baron...everything. She listens contently, soaking it all in.

“My poor girl. You have been through so much. I think it was meant for you and Baron to meet.”

“You think so?”

“I do.” she says nodding her head. “Did Baron ever tell you about how he came to be my son?”

“A little.”

“My husband and I tried for years to get pregnant. We tried everything. Medicine. Invitro. Nothing worked. Finally, a doctor told me I was infertile. We were devastated. All we have ever wanted was children. After spending a year or so going through Kieran’s mayoral election, moving and me deciding between being a charge nurse and quitting my job to become a mayor’s wife. We went to a fundraiser for one of the local foster homes and it was there talking to one of the sponsors that it hit me. That night I went home and talked to Kieran. He agreed we could do so much good by adopting.” I am sitting here listening to her and my heart is more than hurting for her pain. But how wonderful is she putting that aside to help others.

“We went to the Chicago Home for Boys and talked with the social worker about possibly doing some donations. As we were leaving, we came across Baron and his brothers. My husband and I went home that night and we were both on the same page. We knew we had to love all of them. We were sent there for a reason. Like fate, if you will. What we saw was four little boys, forced to become young men, trying to protect one another, and we simply fell in love with the fight in them. So, after our initial interaction and a phone call or two with a few connections, the rest, as they say, is history. The thing is, Frannie...may I call you Frannie?”