Two little blonde girls were sitting alone at a bus stop when they left a note telling them to take care of themselves. We saw them on Saturday morning on our way home from grabbing coffee.
They all wore the same bright yellow safety shirts that construction workers wear. At 7 in the morning, there was no one else around.
I drove up next to Jake after he slowed down on his bike. Something was wrong. Kids that age shouldn’t wait for the bus by themselves.
As we got closer, I saw that the younger girl was crying and the older girl had her arm around her sister’s shoulders.
There was a blue balloon and a brown paper bag tied to the bench between them. We stared at each other, turned off our engines, and moved over slowly so we wouldn’t scare them.
Jake bent down to their height and said, “Hey there, little ones.” “Where is your mom?”
In my sixty-three years, I’ve never seen eyes as sad as the older girl’s. She pointed to the bag of paper. “Mommy wrote us a note for someone nice to find.”
My stomach dropped. Jake carefully reached for the bag while I watched the females. There was a loaf of bread, two juice boxes, a change of clothes for each girl, and a piece of notebook paper that had been folded.
When Jake opened it, his hands shook. He looked pale as he read it and then gave it to me without saying anything.
The note added, “To whoever finds Lily and Rose, I can’t work anymore.” It was hard to read since the writing was so terrible. I don’t have any family, I’m unwell, and I don’t have any money.
They shouldn’t have to die with me in the car. Please take care of them. They’re nice girls. I’m so sorry. Their birthdays are on March 3rd and April 12th.
They like waffles and bedtime stories. Please give them a life, but please don’t let them forget me. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
That was it. No name, no phone number, and no address. There were just two little girls in bright yellow shirts so that people would see them. They also carried a balloon with them so that they would look like they were going to a party instead of being left behind.
Jake’s face was wet with tears that were running down his beard. In the forty years we had been riding together, through funerals, fights, and everything else, I had never seen Jake cry.
“What’s your name, darling?” I asked, my voice breaking. The older one said, “Lily.” “Rose is her name.” She doesn’t say much since she’s shy.
Our mom said that a nice person would find us and transport us to a safe place. Are you a good person? Jake produced a sound that was a mix of a laugh and a tear.
“Yes, little child. We’re nice. “We’ll take care of you.”
Jake grabbed my wrist when I took out my phone to call 911. “Wait a second.” “Hold on.”
He wiped his eyes and looked over at the two little girls sitting there with their balloon and paper bag of stuff. I knew precisely what he was thinking. That’s what I was thinking too.
We are both older bikers. We never had any kids. Jake’s wife left him thirty years ago because he couldn’t have kids. I lost my fiancée before we even had a chance.
We were always the bad people who parents urged their kids to keep away from.
And here were two little girls whose mother had hoped that someone, anyone, would be better to them than she could be in whatever hell she was living in.
“We should call,” I said softly. “They need police, family services, and people who know what they’re doing.”
Rose, the younger one, spoke up for the first time out of the blue. “Don’t want cops. Want you.” She reached out with both of her small hands and grabbed Jake’s vest. “You stay.”
Jake was completely broken. This enormous, tattooed, bearded biker who looked like he could break a man in half fell apart right away.
He gripped both women tightly, as if they were the most precious things in the world. He said, “I got you.” “I have both of you.” “I promise you’re safe now.”
I called 911 and told them what was going on. Within 15 minutes, three police cars and a van from family services arrived. Patricia, a woman who appeared nice, came over with a clipboard.
She said in a quiet voice, “We’ll take the girls to a safe place while we look for family.” “You guys did a good thing by stopping.”
Lily and Rose both started to cry. “No, no, no,” Lily cried as she gripped on to Jake’s vest even closer. “We want to stick with the motorcycle guys.” Please. Mama said that someone nice would find us, and you did. You are beautiful, and we want you.
Patricia looked like she was hurting. “I understand, sweetie, but that’s not how it works.” These guys are not friends. We have instructed families who take in kids—
“How long will it take to find family?” Jake interrupted. Patricia wasn’t sure. “Based on what we know, it could take weeks or months.” If we can’t find anyone who wants them, they’ll go into the foster system.
I could know what Jake was going to do just by glancing at his face. He thought, “What if we wanted to be an emergency foster placement?”
“Right now. Today. No matter what forms, background checks, or anything else you need. We will do it. Patricia looked like she couldn’t believe what was happening. It’s not that easy, sir. There are home studies, training, and a way to get certified.
“How long?” Jake had a strong voice. “How long will you have to stay in a temporary emergency place to do all of that?”
Patricia looked at her boss, who had come over. I couldn’t hear them since they were talking quietly. The boss eventually said something.
“Because of the strange situation and how the kids reacted to you, we might be able to approve a temporary emergency placement for 72 hours while we speed up the process of finding a permanent home for the kids.” But I’ll be honest with you, guys: this is really weird.
I encouraged them to “check their backgrounds.” “We’re both veterans with clean records and homes of our own. We are members of the Veterans Motorcycle Club. We ride our bikes to raise money for kids’ hospitals. You will see that we are exactly who we say we are.
Jake remarked, “And we won’t let these little girls go to strangers because they were alone once today.” Not going to happen.
It took four hours. Lily and Rose sat between us on the bench for four hours as we filled out a lot of paperwork, made phone calls, and did background checks. They ate bread and drank juice boxes.
Jake went to the store and bought real things, like apple slices and chicken nuggets. I got coloring books and crayons. We told them stories about our motorcycles and made funny faces till they smiled.
Patricia finally came back with papers in her hands. “Guys, I don’t know if you know what you’re getting into.” These youngsters have been through a lot. They will require therapy, stability, and time. “We know,” Jake responded. “And they will have it.”
That was three months ago. We are now legally permitted to be foster parents. We go to parenting classes on Thursday nights.
Our biker guys turned Jake’s extra room into a bunk bed and painted it pink with white daisies. Lily will start kindergarten next month. Rose talks a much now; she won’t stop. They call us “Mr. Jake” and “Mr. Tommy.”
We never met their mother. Police spotted an abandoned car that matched the description two counties distant. There were clothes, empty medicine bottles, and a photograph of two blonde girls inside.
They are still looking, but it’s been months. People think she was dying and had no one to aid her, so she made a choice that was impossible.
Last weekend, on April 12th, Rose turned five, just like the card said. The whole motorcycle club brought gifts and balloons. The balloons are blue because that’s Rose’s favorite color.
We were in the park when someone took a picture of Jake holding Lily and Lily sitting on my lap. The girls both wore their safety yellow shirts because they love them. They were smiling, and we were laughing. I looked at Jake and saw that he was crying again.
“Are you all right, brother?” I asked in a quiet voice. He grinned and dried his eyes. “Yes.” He was just remembering what happened that morning. What if we had gone by bike? What would have occurred if we hadn’t stopped? I hugged Rose a little more tightly. “But we did stop. And they are here. And they belong to us.
Lily looked up at Jake. “Mr. Jake, why are you crying?” She calls crying “leaking.” Jake kissed her on the head and chuckled. “Because I’m happy, little girl.” This is the happiest I’ve ever been.
The adoption papers were submitted last Monday. No relative ever came forward, and we were told it should be done in six months. By law, Lily and Rose will be ours. Two old bikers who never thought they’d be parents are now taking care of two little girls who need them just as much as we do.
People still stare at us when we pull up to school or the store: two large, tattooed bikers with two little blonde girls. Let them see. We are the parents of these girls. That morning, they picked us up at the bus terminal, and we picked them up again.
Last night, Lily asked me if we were going to leave them like their first mom did. I got down on my knees and looked her in the eye. “Never.” You have to stay with us for all time. Is that something you can do? She put her arms over my neck. “Forever and ever?” “Forever and ever.”
I think of their mother and that note every now and again. “Please don’t let them forget about me, but please give them a life.”
We won’t let them forget. We have the photo, and we’ll tell them the truth when they’re ready. We’ll tell them that their first mom loved them so deeply that she made sure someone could locate them and give them what she couldn’t.
And we’ll tell them that sometimes the family you need is waiting on a bus on a Saturday morning. There was a paper bag, a blue balloon, and two anxious people who had no idea their lives were about to change forever.
Even though the blue balloon is flat now, Rose still sleeps with it. She won’t let us get rid of it. She says, “It’s from the day we got our daddies.” And she is right. That’s where it comes from.