“Tell him he can have it, but first ask him if he knows Yusra.” She passed the photo to the old man. Ally thought she glimpsed a flash of recognition in his rheumy eyes. His brow wrinkled, and he muttered a few quick words.

“What’d he say?”

“He says she doesn’t live here.”

“But he recognizes her, right?”

The old man gazed at the photo, shook his head, and handed it back.

“Keep trying,” said Ally. “Ask if he knows of any nurses living nearby. Or maybe he knows where she moved to? The woman we’re looking for would be in her fifties by now.”

The nurseryman shot an uneasy glance at the gate.

“My dear, this man is not accustomed to foreigners. He’ll probably talk more freely if it’s just me and him.” Huda pressed her arm. “Trust me.”

Reluctantly, Ally drifted deeper into the nursery. Overhead, black shade cloth diced the sunlight and patterned her skin with tiny squares. At the river’s edge, she stopped and glanced back at the nurseryman and Huda. Hope inflated her lungs as she pictured her mother in this same spot, with the same breeze cooling her cheek.

A little farther down the bank, a kingfisher perched in a weeping willow, motionless, eyes fixed on small fish and freshwater crabs scuttling among the bulrushes. In a flash of blue, the bird speared the water. When it emerged, a fish wriggled desperately in its beak.

“I’ve got your plant.” Huda materialized suddenly at her side and passed her the sapling.

“The old man drove a hard bargain, but I bartered him down for you.”

Ally’s heart thudded like a mallet against her ribs.

“Did he say anything about Yusra? Does he know where she lives?”

Regret carved an arrow in Huda’s brow.

“I’m sorry. He knows nothing.”

The ache in Ally’s chest expanded again.

“I was sure he recognized her.”

“He was confused,” said Huda. “He was thinking of someone else.”

“Someone else? Who?”

“No one who knew your mom. I double-checked.”

“Let’s ask him again.” Ally started toward the fig tree.

Huda grabbed her arm.

“He doesn’t know anything, and I have to get home. Khalid has a soccer game. I can’t be late.”

Frustration vibrated through Ally’s body. Was this truly another dead end? Did Huda really do everything she could to get answers? Or did she just want Ally to stop asking questions? In the empty lot next to the nursery something rustled. The two women fell silent. Huda squinted through the wire fence.

“It’s just a lizard. There must be plenty of them hiding in the scrub.”

A slab of weathered granite caught Ally’s eye. It was engraved with curling script.

“What’s that?”

Huda slipped her arm through Ally’s.