"Just Isaac is fine," he says, his normally gruff voice gentle. "And this is Emily."
Emily crouches down to Charlie's level. "We're so glad to meet you, Charlie. Morgan has been telling us what a special girl you are."
Charlie's smile widens. "Ms. Morgan makes magic pancakes."
"Does she now?" My father's eyes crinkle at the corners. "I haven't had those in years."
"Would you like some?" Matthew asks from his position at the stove. "There's plenty."
As my parents settle at the table, accepting cups of coffee from Trenton, I watch Charlie watching them. She's cautious but curious, drawn to their warmth despite her history.
"Charlie," I say, taking the seat beside her, "my parents wanted to check on us after everything that's happened. They care about you too."
My mother reaches into the gift bag, pulling out a small, wrapped package. "We thought you might like this. It's a journal, so you can write down your thoughts. Or draw pictures, if you prefer."
Charlie accepts the gift with careful hands, unwrapping it to reveal a leather-bound book with gold-edged pages. "It's beautiful," she whispers.
"If you need anything," my father says, his eyes finding mine over Charlie's head, "anything at all, you call us. We're just a short drive away."
The weight of his words settles over me. This isn't just a visit, it's a commitment. They're extending their protection to Charlie, making her part of our family without question.
"Would you like to see my new room?" Charlie asks suddenly, looking between my parents. "I have lots of stuffed animals now."
My mother's face brightens. "We'd love that."
As Charlie leads my parents upstairs, chattering about her animal kingdom and Princess Sparklehoof, Matthew moves to stand beside me, his hand finding my back.
My parents and Charlie descend the stairs, their voices animated. Charlie is clutching the stuffed dog my father brought, her expression more relaxed than I've seen since we found her.
"Ms. Morgan," she calls when she spots me, "Isaac says he can teach me how to fish!"
I raise an eyebrow at my father, who shrugs unapologetically. "What? Every kid should know how to fish."
"The pond behind our house has bluegills," my mother explains. "Perfect for beginners."
Charlie looks between us, hope shining in her eyes. "Can I? Please?"
The normalcy of the request, of fishing lessons from my father, feels like a miracle after everything she's been through. It's exactly what she needs: connections, experiences, a life beyond fear.
"Of course you can," I tell her, my voice thick. "As soon as it's safe."
"I made cookies," my mother announces, breaking the tension. "Chocolate chip. Charlie helped me choose the recipe."
Charlie nods eagerly. "They're the best kind."
As we move to the kitchen, I watch my parents with Charlie, noticing how they include her naturally, how they treat her with the same gentle authority they used with me as a child. It's exactly what she needs, adults who care, set boundaries, and who offer unconditional love.
"Morgan," my mother says quietly when we have a moment alone, "you know we support you in this. Whatever you decide."
I nod, swallowing hard. "We want to keep her, Mom. All three of us."
She smiles, her eyes shining. "I know. And you should. She needs you."
As the morning stretches on, filled with cookies and stories and plans for fishing trips, I watch Charlie blossom under my parents' attention. She's still cautious, still carries the shadows of her past, but there's light in her eyes now that wasn't there before.
When it's time for my parents to leave, Charlie hugs them both without hesitation.
"Will you come back soon?" she asks, her small voice hopeful.