Saturday. Visiting hours. A guard called Jenna’s name. The visitor would be Brad. She almost didn’t want to see him. He would be bubbling about her release and his plans for going away together, and she had no heart for it.

But the person in the visiting room was Laila.

“Hello, Aunt Jenna. I … I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“Please, there’s nothing to be sorry about. My God, it’s so good to see you! “I got to thinking … about my mother, you know—my real mother— and what you did for her. And for me. I wouldn’t even be here without you. I had to come. Not that there’s any comparison, of course. With what you did, I mean.” “I know it was hard for you to come here, Laila. And you did. That’s all that matters. But Laila—wait. I thought you were supposed to be in France.” “I was going there. But I went somewhere else, Aunt Jenna. I went to see Karim.”

“You did?” Jenna felt a surge of wild hope. “What happened? What did he say?”

Laila shook her head. “I can’t tell you what you’d like to hear. He’s gone. There’s nothing you could have done to hold him. You probably know that, anyway. But maybe it’s not quite as bad as it seems.”

Jenna waited.

“It was David’s idea,” said Laila. “I was always talking about you and Karim, always saying, you know, quel dommage. And one night, David said, ‘Look, no one this kid meets for the rest of his life is going to understand his problem like you do. There’s the phone. Why not give him a call?’ And so I did. I got the number from Jabr.”

Laila peered around the room with open curiosity, probably wondering, Jenna thought, what lay beyond the door that led to the cells.

“At first, he didn’t want to talk. Then he did, but it was all … bitterness.

Anger. I wasn’t getting through to him. So the next day, I flew to Boston. David came with me. Karim was packing. His visa had just come through. The Remali consulate had sent him a ticket and some money. But I managed to talk with him some more. For hours, really.” She shrugged helplessly. “I tried to show him what I had learned for myself, about my father. That it wasn’t his fault—wasn’t your fault. That both of you had done what you thought was best. Karim didn’t want to hear that. I wouldn’t have listened, either, at that stage. But at least I planted a seed. I think he’ll remember. It’s a start.”

“Laila, whatever you did, I can’t thank you enough.”