I sat up with a jolt and looked around. I was on a pristine white sofa in a strange room. The pale, dusky light of dawn seeped through windows and a French door that did not obstruct the light with sheers or blinds.

I saw Alexis standing at one of the windows, gazing out, his back to me. And then I saw that Monica lay opposite me on a hunter green velvet chaise. We were in her home. She slept, and although the sun crept over her porcelain skin, she did not burn. As my child ...