Knock, knock, knock...
Just when Abigail was feeling lost, she heard a rhythmic knock on the door.
There was no need to guess who it was from the rhythm.
Abigail looked down at the little hand still clutching her and pulled the thin blanket up a bit. She called out, "Come in."
Brandon Piers entered, carrying a tray. The dim bedside lamp bathed the warm-toned room in a cozy glow. As he approached, he saw Abigail lying on her side on the bed, the little guy asleep but still clutching her collar. His heart softened.
"He's asleep. Just set him down, or he'll cling even more." Brandon carried the tray to the bedside and softly said this to the mother and son.
"I can't. He wakes up as soon as I put him down." Abigail looked up and noticed Brandon holding a tray. "Why did you bring it over?"
