“He might be better off with a new family. Have you thought of that? The families that come here are so nice. They’ll give him the world.”

She stared at me. “What baby are you adopting?”

What will she do to me if she realizes I’m going to be her child’s mother? So I lied to this beautiful, lost soul. “A girl. Her name is Natasha. She’s eight months old.” This was the child the Robinettes were adopting, I just borrowed the name.

My lie mollified her. “Will you help me?”

I should say no. But I need to know…what does this have to do with my child? Who might come after him if we take him? I can’t ask for another child now. Clearly, clearly something is wrong—being warned off him, being followed, the crash, the bribe, his mother lurking in the snow—and I need to know the whole, sprawling truth. She won’t just tell me; I can see that. I have to earn it. I have to deceive her a little.

“Let me go inside and see if I can find him,” I told her. “Go to the back window.” I pointed to one of the windows, and she nodded. “I’ll bribe a nurse to show me your Alexander,” I said. She nodded again.

I trudged through the heavy snow. I put my emotions in check. I went inside. The receptionist, Svetlana, who very much liked the chocolates I had given her, told me Kyle and Maria were still checking the mountain of paperwork.

“Could I go see Sasha? Just for a moment?” I asked in my best mommy tone. “I know where his ward is.”

She’d seen all the supplies and toys I brought the last trip, and she spoke a bit more English than most of the staff, since she had to deal more with adoptive parents arriving. She nodded and gave me a sticker pass to put on my coat.

I went up two flights of stairs; two staffers glanced at me, but they saw my pass and only nodded. I smiled back.

My heart shuddered in my chest.

I opened the door to his ward and found a room lined with cribs. No wonder the chicken pox tore through here like wildfire. There were ten cribs in this room, all occupied. There was no attendant in here at the moment.

I saw Sasha—I mean Grant—in his crib. The pox was gone. My heart pounded, danced, twirled. He was such a handsome boy.

She can’t have him. I won’t let her have him. She can’t give him what we can. She made her choice. She’s not stable. She’s not reliable. She doesn’t want what’s best for him. I…

I took a giant breath and broke into sudden tears.