“You and Yakov,” I say, picking my way slowly through what I want to ask. “Why can’t…? Why can’t you be together now? He still loves you. You know that, right?”

“And I will always love him.” She picks up the journal. “I want to read you my last entry. I’ve told you most of it, but this will finish the story, yes?”

I scoot closer and she begins to read. She translates as she reads and remembers. Her accent thickens, the words slow and heavy:

Tatyana’s journal:

June 7, 1968

My beloved journal, you have traveled with me through many a hard time, and I will always be grateful to Mama for insisting I write in you. I write this last entry on my wedding day. No more writing in Russian after this.

I am marrying a wonderful man who loves me dearly. I thought I would never love again, or at least not as much as I love Jacob (for I still love him—I always will). But then I met Daniel. He is smart, funny, and passionate about so many of the same things I am. I know we will have a wonderful life together.

He knows about Russia and Papa. He knows everything, and I trust him to keep my secrets. I never see Jacob and Margaret, but we still keep in touch. To cut the thread would be to kill us. I need to know he is safe, and he needs to know I am happy.

They have a son, a little boy named Bobby. I hope to have children one day soon. I hope it will be a little girl who I can someday tell my stories to. I will tell her about Russia when she is old enough to understand. Perhaps we will travel there one day together.

Daniel asks if I wish to visit Papa. I think I won’t dare it. It would destroy Mama if she knew. I do miss him, despite how he treated us. He will always be my papa. But it is best to forget, I think. So, for now, I will shut that part of my life away. I will close this book and begin another. Finally.

I dream of love, of happiness, of a life well lived. I believe my Daniel and I will have all these things.

Gram’s voice trembles with emotion as she speaks about my grandfather. Her love flows from her journal and out into the air around her. I file it away. Each second, each minute.

Gram closes the book and rests her hand on the top. “And we did. We had a good life full of love, and I don’t regret any of it. Jacob is married, and I cannot ever get in the way of a marriage. We are what we were in the beginning—the very best of friends. It is enough.”