I found myself sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of hot chocolate heating my hands while the two women in my life stared at me like they weren't sure I was ready to hear what they had to say.

Gram poked at the mini marshmallows in her cup with one sharp nail, scowling like they offended her somehow. Mom ignored hers, shifting in her seat a time or two before she finally spoke.

"Honey," she said, "there are things you don't know about Quaid."

I flinched from ...