He carried all of their earthly possessions in one trip down the stairs, carefully setting the two battered suitcases in the foyer.  The last four months had been perfect, beyond their wildest dreams.  After years of hoping, praying for a child, they were granted two of the most precious girls in the world.  He remembered vividly the day, eight weeks earlier, when they had hugged him for the first time.  They were finally beginning to relax around them; the fear of being taken away was diminishing.  Adoption papers were being drawn up.  Every night he and his wife watched their two angels succumb to sleep, thankful that after years of waiting their dream had been realized.

And now their dreams were being crushed.  Their angels had never been meant for them.  Four months ago they were supposed to be sent to an orphanage, not to their home.  A clerical error—a blessing, in their opinion—had changed that until yesterday, when an internal audit made the county government aware of their mistake.  With one phone call, their world was turned upside down.  No matter that they were being asked to give up their children in the middle of the week, on a sunny Wednesday that should have found the girls at school.  Instead, they were under orders to relinquish custody immediately.

They didn't have the heart to tell the girls where their new home was.

"Now, girls, don't forget to brush your teeth before you go to bed—you did remember your toothbrushes, didn't you?  What about your roller blades?  And your journal?"  He walked into the living room, listening to his wife's last-minute reminders to the girls.  Their girls.  Receiving nods from both children, the woman held out her arms.  "I'm so sorry things worked out this way.  But I know that your new foster family will love you as much as we have," she whispered as she clung to the two dark-haired girls.