The Foreign Service Journal, September 2008

With a bored expression, the agent regarded the two disheveled travelers before him. He checked the visa in Linda’s diplomatic passport and swiped it through the reader. Open- ing Gina’s passport, he looked at the little girl with renewed interest. “What relation are you to this woman?” he asked her, unsmiling. “She’s my niece,” Linda spoke up, her hand still resting protectively on Gina’s back. “Miss ...” the agent checked Linda’s passport again. “Krall. I was speaking to the girl. Can she speak English?” “Of course,” Linda said, trying to hide her exasperation. Gina was staring up at the agent, her wary, blue eyes shadowed with purple circles of fatigue. “Why are you here?” the agent asked again, staring at Gina. The young girl turned to look at Linda, con- fusion and a certain fear on her face. “I…” she stammered. “Look,” Linda risked stepping in, trying to avoid having the situation spiral into something worse. “She’s been through a lot. Her mother — my sister — just passed away. She’s with me. We’re tired — it has been a long flight. Perhaps you’d like me to call the U.S. embassy and we can talk to someone there?” Linda held her breath, hoping the veiled threat would work. The agent returned Linda’s steady gaze. The last thing he wanted was to get into a long, drawn-out tussle with a diplomat. Finally, he sighed and with a heavy hand stamped Gina’s passport. Wordlessly, he shoved the two passports back to Linda. “Thanks,” she said curtly and struggled through the turnstile, lead- ing the child. They made their way past the rows of expectant faces outside the interna- tional terminal and pushed through the gypsy cab drivers waiting to grab a fare. Resolutely, Linda steered Gina and their cart piled high with luggage outside — momentarily hesitating and blinking against the white sun- light that blinded them— to the curb, flagged a cab, and once everything was loaded, sagged back into the seat. uru The two were quiet as they sped toward the city. The events of the last two weeks were a nightmarish blur. Involuntarily, the events replayed in Linda’s mind yet again: the phone call received at the embassy at 6 p.m. from the hospital in Akron with the news that her sister had been in a car accident and, though still alive, was in critical condition; the rush to get plane reservations back to the United States; hurrying to her apartment, throwing together a bag. The long plane ride to Ohio. Arriving at her sis- ter’s house and holding her perplexed and terrified 7-year-old niece — such a little thing she was, Linda thought. Driving to the hospital and giving the heart-wrenching permission to with- draw life support. Funeral arrange- ments. People at the house. The lawyer. And then — Gina. What to do about Gina. “Of course,” Linda had said in a daze in the somber attorney’s office back in Ohio. “I’m taking her with me.” The attorney quietly looked at Linda, as if sizing her up, and then rose from the heavy mahogany desk and went to the window, his back to her. “You know, I only met your sister once or twice,” he said. “She was an … interesting … woman.” This was probably one of the more blatant understatements in the world, Linda thought. But, at the same time, she deeply resented the subtle asper- sion cast upon her sister’s character by this man. Kelly had been a free spir- it, but had worked hard as a sales clerk to make a solid living for her daughter and herself after the divorce from her last husband. And she had succeed- ed. They had a small house in the leafy suburbs of Akron; Gina had done well in school; and Kelly had finally seemed to settle down and find satisfaction in being a single mom. Linda had not been particularly close to her sister or to her niece. She had sent obligatory birthday and Christmas cards to Gina every year, along with some gift unique to the area where she had been posted: a small Bavarian cuckoo clock when she was in Germany; a reindeer muff and hat when she had lived in Oslo; an exquisite Chinese doll from Beijing. She had even flown out to Ohio once or twice for brief visits during the past few years. And, of course, they had met at the funerals of their parents. But by no stretch of the imagination was Linda close to Gina. She knew this explained the child’s shyness and reserve with her. And then, the car accident. Kelly had unexpectedly worked late one evening. The police never decided if she had fallen asleep or had just lost control of her car, which skidded into a ditch and overturned. And life was suddenly different — for Gina, for Linda, for so many people. The attorney’s voice abruptly brought Linda back to the present. “As the only living relative, you are, of course, the logical person to take on the guardianship of this child. How- ever…” he continued, turning back to face her. “I understand you are with 46 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / S E P T E M B E R 2 0 0 8 The girl had said little the last few hours — the last two weeks, in fact, Linda thought.