“Then you must believe me when I say this can’t come to any good. I’m sorry for what I said to her and I’ll apologize to her tomorrow. But you must be realistic. The three infants in Seoul we signed on to adopt, have you completely forgotten about them?”

“No… of course not…”

“So what does she think is going to happen? What have you promised her?”

“Nothing. I’ve promised her nothing.”

“Then what are you hoping for?”

“I was hoping we could take her, too. I know it’ll be difficult with the embassy, but you know that one consulate officer well and I thought you might ask if he could make an exception for us, so we could take one more. Besides, I thought June could help me with the children. I don’t know if I can handle them all myself.”

“First off, I’ll help you. And your aunt will help out, too, I’m sure. But do you for a second believe that June will make things easier? For you, perhaps, because she obviously loves you. But for us? For our other children? Do you truly believe that June would be kind to them? That she would show them love and care? Do you think she would treat them well when you weren’t around? Come on, tell me the truth.”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I don’t know how she’ll be.”

“Of course you do, dear. How can you imagine otherwise, with the way she’s behaved herself here? The fact is, the girl has already grown up. She’s who she is now, through and through. She’s not going to change.”

“Why couldn’t she?”

“Because she’s not a nice girl. She’s not a kind girl. Maybe she was once, but she isn’t anymore. I hate to be so hard, but I don’t know any other way to say it.”

“You have no idea what’s happened to her, Ames. You don’t know what she’s been through. If you did you wouldn’t talk like this.”

“I don’t know what happened to her,” he said. “That’s true. But I know plenty about some of the others, as do you. None them has a more profound story than any of the rest. Not in sum, at least. They all have nothing, and we agreed that we would start with them from this point on. It’s all we can do. There are thousands of needy children in this country. Maybe tens of thousands. And we’re only helping the orphans! We were warned by our colleagues, remember? What was their saying? ‘So many pretty stones in the river, but you can’t pick them all up’? How right they were-so many of them, right here with us. But you chose the stone that’s razor sharp.”

“She chose me, Ames.”

“But you encouraged her over all the others. Everyone saw that.”

“No one else is going to adopt her,” she said, defeated. “They won’t, and you know it.”

He didn’t answer her. Soon Hector heard her crying again, if very softly. Weak beams of candlelight showed through cracks in the door-jamb and when he put his eye before it he saw Tanner embracing her as she sat. She was wearing a thin cotton nightgown, dark knee socks. Hector could see the silhouette of her breast inside the loose fabric. Tanner cupped her there and tried to kiss her but her posture was unmoving and after a moment he gave up.

“You’ve been terribly low, darling. For so long now. It can’t be all about that girl. I’ve done nothing different since we’ve come here. I’ve done nothing wrong. Have I?”

She shook her head.

“Maybe I have but can’t see it,” he said anyway, exasperation pitching his voice higher. His face looked as desperate and broken as hers. “Please tell me. Tell me if I have.”

But Sylvie didn’t say any more or look up at him and Tanner finally rose and picked up a tea mug and reared back as though he were going to hurl it against the wall. But he stopped himself, then set it heavily on the desk. He walked back to the bedroom. She pulled her knees up to her chest and covered her head with her arms, her hands. Hector watched her for a while longer, searching her, until the point at which the votive candle burned down, flickered out, flared alive again, then finally died. It was pure black and nothing moved in the dark. He was going to wait her out, but two aunties were heading his way to leave by the back path to their village at the other end of the valley, so he got up before they caught sight of him pressed strangely against the cottage and ambled back to his room. He could have crouched there until morning. Instead, he found himself, in the middle of the night, mirroring her shape in his own bed, rubbing his face against his forearm, his knee, to try to taste anything of flesh, wondering how long she would remain that way, if she could spend the entire night in that self-bound coil, or would wait until her husband was dead asleep and then spring herself back to life.

That week the Tanners had planned to leave for ten days to visit other church-associated orphanages, a trip that would have taken them south to Pusan through Andong, then up along the western coast, from the city of Kwangju. But on the morning they were to leave it was Tanner alone bidding everyone goodbye, the children and aunties bowing deeply as his car departed. Hector was fixing the fallen rails of the wooden gate of the entrance when Tanner had the car stop. He stepped out of the car and lifted the other end of a rail as Hector fitted his end into the post he had just reanchored. Hector asked him what he wanted. Tanner took them a few more steps away from the car. He spoke softly, as if not wishing the driver to hear them, though there was little chance the man spoke much English.

“I’m going on a trip now.”

“I know.”

“Mrs. Tanner is staying behind. Another minister from Seoul will come for part of each day while I’m gone, to supervise. But I would ask if you could remain close to the compound while I’m away. Will you do that for me, Hector?”

“I haven’t been anywhere else, for a while.”

“Yes, I know, and I appreciate it. That and your hard work. You’re making excellent progress on the projects. But while I’m gone I’d feel more comfortable if you’d be sure to stay on the grounds. Or at least nearby. My wife hasn’t been feeling well for some time now. Perhaps you’ve noticed something.”

“She’s been sick.”

“It’s not only a physical illness,” Tanner said. He cleared his throat. “I’m only telling you this because I’m afraid something might happen while I’m away.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” he answered gravely. “I’m afraid that she’ll somehow hurt herself.”

“Why don’t you take her with you, then?”

“She won’t come. She wants to stay here.” A column of wind whipped up dust from the road and Tanner had to hold on to the brim of his hat. The car rolled up and the driver reminded Tanner in Korean that they still had to drive in the opposite direction, toward Inchon, to pick up the other American minister who was accompanying him.

“I have to go. Will you do this for me?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’ll please just look in on her. Knock on her door, if you like.”

For the rest of the day Hector rehearsed in his mind how he would do so. But for the first few days of Tanner’s absence Hector simply avoided her. There was little reason for anything else, as Sylvie was regularly teaching her classes and taking meals with the children under the newly patched roof of the mess hall. She was even playing tag in the yard after the Korean minister from Seoul departed in the early afternoon. The minister, Reverend Kim, was a rail-thin, bookish young man who arrived each morning by nine and led prayers and Bible study and then ate with a ravenous vigor at lunch, even as he was nose deep in his volumes, taking second and third helpings of rice and vegetables and downing his soup in long slurps that echoed in the hall like the sound of a great, sucking drain. The children slyly mocked him by doing the same, and even Sylvie did as well-the man was almost completely oblivious-and whether it was because her husband was gone or she was left alone to play with the children she seemed mostly at ease again, lighthearted and girlish.