In a small room, nine girls are found in cribs placed next to each other. His skin was dark, his eyes wide open with fear and hope, his little hands reaching anyone who could lift them. A nurse murmured, “They stayed together on the church stairs. No names, no notes. Nobody loves them all. They will soon be separated.”
The separate word hit Richard deeply. She recalled Anne’s last words before she passed: “Don’t let love die with me. Give a place to go.” Standing there, you felt the weight of that promise. Could he be the one to keep these nine sisters together?
When he finally spoke, his voice was harsh. “What if I take them, all of them?”
For illustrative purposes only
The nurse stared in disbelief. “The nine? Sir, that’s impossible. You will ruin your life.”
But Richard had already made a decision. Days later, despite strong objections from social workers, family members and neighbors, the papers were signed. Richard Miller, a single white man, became the father of nine black girls.
It marked the beginning of a life that no one could have imagined. Nights blurred in tears, diapers, bottles and exhaustion. He sold his truck, his tools, even Anne’s jewelry to pay for formula and clothing. He worked triple shifts at the factory, repaired roofs on weekends and took night shifts at a restaurant. People looked at grocery stores, whispered in parks, and sometimes threw insults at it. But he never regretted it.
