Excerpt from The Confusion of Languages by Siobhan Fallon, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

I dry my hands and walk into the living room. The lamps throw off a brittle light. It's late afternoon but might as well be midnight. I go to the window, feel around behind the curtain for the cord. There's not much that Jordan does better than ­America, but it does do blackout. The shutters here are built right into the window, between two layers of glass, and when you close them you have effectively put up a wall between you and the outside world. I tug the shutters open and sun spills in.

"Oh, wait, don't!" Margaret cries from behind me. I turn. She stands with her hands up, fingers spread, covering her face. I can see in the sunlight how blotchy her skin is. She must have gone into that bedroom with the baby and continued to cry; she must not have wanted me to see. Her white blouse is askew on her collarbones, her blond, nearly translucent hair dangling around her face. Her lips are so chapped I can see peeling bits glow in the light.

She looks awful.

Everything I have been warning her about, everything she has ignored, all of it is unfolding just the way I knew it would.

"Margaret," I start softly, trying to stop the words I told you so from rising to the surface of my throat.

She comes toward me quickly, unsteady on her feet, almost falling. She catches herself on the wall with her right hand and straightens. Then she tugs on the cord, narrows the shutters, angling them in a way that lets in light but doesn't allow anyone on the outside to see in.

"Is that all right?" she asks, apology in her voice.

I stare. Does she not want people to know she is home? Does she have a Peeping Tom she's never mentioned? "Why keep them down?"

"I need to thank you, Cassie," she says, evasive. "Really, ­really thank you." She touches the glass of the window with her fingertips, then faces me. "I've been meaning to for so long. Thank you. You've been the only person I could depend on."

These are the very words I've been waiting to hear since ­January.

"Don't be silly," I say, embarrassed. It's as if she's read my mind and realized exactly how to soothe me. "That's what friends are for." She moves closer and I lift my hands and begin to straighten her shirt, but really I want to make sure we are reconciled. As an answer, she places her palms on top of my fingers, trapping them on her shoulders. Her bones feel light and sharp.

I look into her swollen eyes. "It's going to be fine, Margaret."

"Is it?" She slides her hands down and slips away from my grip. "Are you sure you don't mind watching Mather?"

"No problem." Five minutes ago I wanted to smash her dishes. Now, after a simple show of gratitude, I'd do anything for her. This is a lesson my husband, Dan, ought to learn.

"I put the baby in his crib. He'll nap for an hour or so. I left my bag in the bedroom in case you want to take him for a walk." Her eyes blink around the room as if there is something she's forgotten and she wants to retrieve it.

I hesitate. "I bet the police station is open all night. We could let the baby sleep and then all go together. I've been there before. They found me guilty too, Margaret. I know I told you the story, how I was waiting for someone to pull out of a parking space, had my blinker on, and this taxi just plowed into me. The worst part was that I was eating an ice-cream cone. I always thought that was the reason I was found guilty. How could anyone take me seriously with vanilla Häagen-Dazs down the front of my shirt?"

She shakes her head vaguely, not listening to a word. "If I leave now I might make it back before Mather wakes up."

"Then just get in and get out. No more arguing. Sign the ­paperwork, pay the money, the embassy will figure it all out next week."

She looks into my eyes. "Tell me again it'll be OK."

Excerpted from The Confusion of Languages by Siobhan Fallon. Copyright © 2017 by Siobhan Fallon. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.