She drove for twenty minutes. I saw buildings higher than I’d ever seen before and others that looked like they could be blown over by a strong wind. We passed a leafy park and bountiful store windows. I tried to read the road signs, but there were so many and my eyes were blurred with tears. I saw women pushing strollers and middle-aged men jogging down sidewalks.

Ann turned onto a street with two-story homes sitting shoulder to shoulder. Their front doors and windows were in full view, with no privacy wall to guard them from passersby. I remember my parents telling me that in some ways, parts of America were like Kabul. But nothing I’d seen thus far looked like home. Ann parked in front of a dark red building with a rusted tricycle in the small front yard.

The front door opened, and a neatly dressed man with red hair stepped onto the front porch. He came down the steps and stood on the walkway with his hands on his hips, a touch of triumph to his posture. A moment later, a woman in a long flowing dress emerged and stood next to him. She put her hand over her eyes to block the sun’s glare. Her golden hair hung loose around her shoulders. I saw their lips move, though they did not turn to face each other.

“Aryana,” Ann said, as if she were handing me a most precious gift, “this family has agreed to take you in . . . for now.”

I saw a curtain flutter in a first-floor window. I couldn’t tell what had made it flutter, nor could I see anything in the other windows. I did not understand why I’d been brought to this home. I looked up and down the street, looking for options or a way to get to Tilly. The curtain fluttered again. Still, I saw no one.

Even without the tall clay walls of Kabul, these American houses could still hold secrets.

Chapter 29

The woman’s name was Janet. Her husband’s name was Everett. Ann introduced us as we sat in their kitchen. Janet stood with her back to us, opening a cabinet door. A pop, a hiss, and three cups of orange soda appeared on the wooden table. She’d placed the cups in the center, just beyond everyone’s reach. Small bubbles climbed the insides of the glasses and a saccharine smell filled the room.

“Where are the others?” Ann asked.

“All the neighborhood kids love to play together, especially when the weather’s so nice,” Janet replied, her voice melodic.

Ann laughed lightly.

“It is beautiful outside, isn’t it? I need a day off so I can enjoy it. This week has been rough.”

While Everett nodded in agreement, Ann slid a paperclipped stack of papers across the table toward him.

“I do want to thank you both for rising to the occasion and helping us with another child,” she said.