I hoped it was enough. What if they said no? What if they made us wait, offered us another child much later? Sasha was my boy, I realized with a jolt. He was my child, and leaving him here was the hardest thing I could imagine. Now there was the possibility I would never see him again because I was stupid and rash. What had I done to myself, to Kyle, to the hopeful life for this poor boy that we just wanted to love? I had a vision of him now, ten or eleven, learning about the Great Patriotic War in an ill-fitting, worn uniform, with no one to love him, a prisoner of this place until he was eighteen. Because I was a fool.

I stumbled out into the cold.

We drove back toward Saint Petersburg. Danielle decided to be optimistic, chirpy. No doubt she would call the home, apologize for me. Surely they were used to dealing with parents who were stressed and emotional.

Sure they were, and they didn’t have to give them kids.

“Pavel and I have to go today to two other orphanages,” Danielle said. We were flying home the day after tomorrow. We’d given ourselves an extra day in case there was an issue seeing Sasha on our assigned day, so tomorrow would be spent sightseeing or shopping. I could buy supplies for the orphanage and take them back there for Galina. Get back some of the goodwill I squandered.

I didn’t see the SUV come up behind us; I was lost in my thoughts of being a screwup and wondering how I could fix this. Did the two hours I spent with Sasha prove to them my worthiness, despite my silliness with Galina?

I was sitting in the middle, next to Danielle, who was behind Feliks, and next to Kyle, who was behind Pavel, and I heard Feliks muttering, and his tone rose in alarm. And then Danielle turned and glanced out the window and said, “Hey…” and then the black SUV rammed into the side of our car. We were on a highway, at speed. Feliks hollered and fought for control. Pavel yelled in Russian. The force of the sideswipe launched me against Kyle.

The SUV—it had tinted windows—rammed us again. Feliks screamed and turned the steering wheel.

The SUV swooped in, forcing us off the road, onto the grass. We spun and started to slide down the embankment, down toward a rushing creek, its banks thick with snow. Kyle threw an arm across me to protect me. Feliks seized control on the muddy stretch of grass and wrenched the wheel, but the SUV rolled. Glass shattered and Danielle screamed and I felt the weight of Kyle’s arm across me. Then we were upright again and I felt, for the oddest moment, that I was a kid on a roller coaster. It lasted a microsecond as we toppled over, coming to rest on the roof.