Chapter 10

Winter turned the Columbia River silver. The state review took three months. I pleaded guilty to misdemeanor trespass, paid a fine, and agreed to random drug tests and home visits. The judge looked at my record, then at the children, then at the file on Paul Kessler.

“You’re not a hero, Ms. Sokolov,” she said. “But you kept those children alive.”

Paul’s trial began in April. The courtroom was crowded with reporters and parents. Sarah Bluebell testified for two days. The billing records showed forty-one unnecessary surgeries. The recorder played Irina’s voice.

Paul sat in a gray suit and stared straight ahead. When the verdict came back guilty on all counts, he didn’t flinch. They led him out in chains.

Greta testified against him. She got five years, reduced to two for cooperation. Toby wrote me a letter from his grandmother’s house. He said he didn’t blame me. I didn’t believe him, but I kept the letter.

On the first warm day in May, I took Emil and Lina out on the tugboat. Emil’s leg had healed. He still limped when he was tired. Lina had stopped carrying the doll everywhere, but she kept it on her bed.

We dropped anchor near the old pier at Tongue Point. Emil baited a crab pot. Lina sat beside me, her feet dangling over the water.

“Auntie Nadia,” she said. “Do you think Mommy can see us?”

I looked at the river. The current moved slow and sure, carrying everything out to sea.

“I think she can,” I said.

“Are you still scared?” she asked.

“Every day.”

She leaned against my shoulder. “Me too.”

I wrapped my arm around her and watched Emil pull up the crab pot. It was empty, but he laughed anyway. Lina laughed too. The sound carried across the water.

That night, I locked the gate at Pier 9 and stood in the rain for a long moment. The service gate was the same iron. The river was the same cold. But the fear had changed. It no longer owned me.

I turned off the sodium lights and walked upstairs. Emil and Lina were asleep on the sofa, the TV murmuring. I covered them with a blanket and sat by the window.

The next morning, I would have to face the state review again. I would have to prove I was fit. I would have to keep fighting for custody. But for now, the children breathed easy.

And so did I.