“But most of all, when Somer closes her eyes, she imagines the moment she will hold her baby for the first time. She keeps Asha’s photo in her pocket and looks at it often. That one photo vaporized her doubts and made everything come to life. She lay awake at night, picturing her daughter’s sweet face.”

“Somer reclines in her airplane seat, watching through the window as the glimmering lights of Mumbai recede into the darkness of night. In the seat next to her, Asha is already asleep, her head and pillow resting on Somer’s lap, her feet in Krishnan’s. They should both try to sleep as well, but she knows Krishnan, like her, is reluctant to disturb Asha. He extends his hand to Somer, and she takes it. They rest their interlocking hands on Asha’s sleeping body between them, just as they did the first time they made this journey.”

“You’ve made all her dreams come true. The moment she holds Noah in her arms for the first time any of the pain and suffering she experienced will just evaporate in an instant. And you will be the one who gave that to her.”

“Oh my gosh,” Somer whispers, one hand flying up to her mouth. “She’s beautiful.”Krishnan fumbles with the papers and reads, “Asha. That’s her name. Ten months old.” “What does it mean?” she asks.“Asha? Hope.” He looks up at her, smiling. “It means hope.”“Really?” She gives a little laugh, crying as well. “Well, she must be ours then.” She grasps his hand, intertwining their fingers, and kisses him. “That’s perfect, really perfect.” She rests her head on his shoulder as they stare at the photo together.For the first time in a very long time, Somer feels a lightness in her chest. How can it be I’m already in love with this child, half a world away? The next morning, they send a telegram to the orphanage, stating they are coming to get their daughter.”

“Marianne would have thought herself very inexcusable had she been able to sleep at all the first night after parting from Willoughby. She would have been ashamed to look her family in the face the next morning, had she not risen from her bed in more need of repose than when she lay down in it. But the feelings which made such composure a disgrace, left her in no danger of incurring it. She was awake the whole night, and she wept the greatest part of it. She got up with an head-ache, was unable to talk, and unwilling to take any nourishment; giving pain every moment to her mother and sisters, and forbidding all attempt at consolation from either. Her sensibility was potent enough!”

“And how different her face looked the first time she really liked a boy who was not on a poster on her wall. And how her face looked when she realized she was in love with that boy.”