Nola sat up. It was pre-dawn on the East Coast of America. Within an hour the trees would blaze with late fall yellows and reds. She imagined Daniel up early, strolling in the woods along the Potomac, stopping at the riverbank to practice Tai Chi. He’d remove his tweed jacket. Were the elbows patched in leather? His arms, legs and sinewy back must be moving in fluid movements, celebrating the rising sun, life, humanity, and perhaps the conquering of his grief and his readiness for a new beginning.

She smiled, no longer fighting her longing for this man who was stable, rooted to one spot, even when traveling across the globe. She was the one who had been lost and found.

In the crib at the far end of the large room, Lulu rolled over. She raised her head, caught sight of Nola, and sent her a toothless smile. “Ta-ta-bi-bi-bi-bu-upup.” The willowy Filipina helper tiptoed in and, following the doctor’s order to keep Nola in bed, brought Lulu over.

“We’ve made it out of China safely.” Nola ticked each word on Lulu's toes. They were warm and slightly damp with milk-scented perspiration. “The worst is over; the bureaucratic procedures should be easy to handle.”

“Add—lala.”

“Yup. Time to heal,” Nola went on. “Tomorrow, the ambassador will return from wherever. She’s a woman. Don’t you love that? She’ll get you a visa. Anyway, unlike Ashford, she has no political interest in the outcome of your adoption. Right?”

“A—at.”

Nola's arms felt heavy; she was weaker than she had imagined. She instructed the Filipina on feeding Lulu, and repeated her stipulation that the baby must remain in her presence at all times. Propped up by a pillow on the carpet, Lulu sucked on her bottle while making little contented sounds of pleasure. Nola ignored the flutter of envy at the sight of the helper with Lulu. There would be time; they had the rest of their lives. For now, she must get well for both their sakes. She swallowed two Tylenol tablets and dozed off, in awe of that other sense that had been added to her original five, allowing her to listen to Lulu while floating in the twilight of consciousness.

In the continuous low rumble of repose, she thought of Sam and Max, who had accompanied her in the speedboat until they reached the first Philippine Island. Sam’s face and the top of Max’s shaved head showed new bruises. Nola had raised three fingers in question about Zach. In response, Sam’s eyes became damp. Once on Philippine shores, she gave them most of the money she had left, hoping it would help them connect with their families back in China. They left to melt into the rural landscape.

Nola opened her eyes. Her temples still pounded and her knee throbbed. She was definitely not herself yet. “Can you crawl here?” she called over to Lulu. “Come to Mommy.”

“Momm-mom.”