Olivia gasps, her eyes wide. It’s one thing to make a guess and another thing for it to be true. Finally I’m getting somewhere.

“What happened with Jacob in Moscow?” I squeeze her hand.

Gram’s voice takes on the same singsongy quality as before. “My mama worked at the American embassy. Sometimes she brought me so I could practice my English. She insisted I learn, but I couldn’t tell Papa. He hated everything American—but he liked the extra money she made there.

“Her American boss, Mark, let me borrow as many books as I wanted. He was a good man—so kind. When Mama worked, I would read to her. I asked her if she thought Mark was nicer than Papa.

“ ‘There is no one like your papa,’ she said.

“It was true. My papa was so handsome that women stopped and stared at him when he walked by. But he never looked back. He only had eyes for Mama.

“After I helped Mama clean the last room that day, Mark got me ice cream and let me look at all the books in his library. They left me alone for a long time. Afterward I asked Mama where they were. She told me it was a secret—a secret from everyone—and the look she gave me was one I’d never forget. The other questions froze inside me, thicker than the ice on the lake.

“But I told Jacob—even though I wasn’t supposed to—because I always told Jacob everything. He’d brought me cookies his mama made, the powdered-sugar ones I loved best. They melted in my mouth and made all the frozen secrets melt with it.”

Gram smiles, her face transforming to one of delight. She reaches in front of her as if she is touching something. She keeps talking, caught up in the story she’s reliving.

“He said it was to make me feel better, and I pointed to his split lip and his swollen cheek. I told him I was the one who should be trying to make him feel better. I could only imagine how much his cheek hurt and his lip burned whenever he spoke.” Gram touches her cheek with a grimace.

“He said that his papa couldn’t hurt him. And he said it almost as if he really believed it. I wanted to distract him from the pain, so I told him about learning English. I promised to help teach him, and he promised to keep my secret. I taught him the English word for ‘friend,’ and when he said it, he smiled past his sore lip. I knew then that I did the right thing, even though I’d promised Mama not to tell.

“After that Papa took me to visit Mama in the hospital.”

“Your mama?” I ask with a frown. “Don’t you mean Jacob’s?”