Each day her arm would reach around her silent daughter, her hand resting tightly on her back long enough to squeeze every ounce of love she could into the motionless body.
For 18 months, all Nikki Lynn could do was clasp her once vivacious, blonde-haired Angel, hoping the depth of her emotion would stir something locked deep inside. But nothing.
Then around two weeks ago, Nikki felt, for the first time, Angel’s right arm reach around her back in return; her hand lightly press her back, then move to stroke her hair.
