As if she can hear him, Mom smiles. “It might sound like an odd way to spend the day, but people come from far and wide just to tour the graveyards. They treat them like art galleries, museums, history exhibits. Some come to study, or pay respect to the dead, but others simply like to wander among the quiet crypts.”

Her steps slow as she talks.

“On their way, the couple met a young woman, traveling alone, and she asked them if they knew how to get to Lafayette.

“ ‘You can come with us,’ they said. ‘We are going there ourselves.’

“And so the three set out together, the couple and the young woman, who said her name was Annabelle. They walked, and chatted, and made their way to the gates of Lafayette, and strolled together, admiring the graves.”

It’s easy to get lost in Mom’s stories. I grew up with them, and sure, the tales she told me before bedtime were usually less morbid than these. But I love to hear her talk.

Now she comes to a stop in front of one of the crypts.

“And at some point, the couple realized that the young woman had stopped walking and was looking mournfully at one of the graves. And so they went to her, and asked, ‘Do you know someone? Is that where they’re buried?’

“And the woman smiled, and pointed at the grave …”

Mom reaches almost absently for the door of the crypt.

“And she said, ‘This one’s mine.’ ”

Chills race over my skin, and Jacob folds his arms and tries to look like he’s not totally freaked out as Mom says, “The couple followed her gaze, and saw the name on the stone was Annabelle. And by the time they looked back at the young woman, she was gone.”

Mom’s hand still lingers in the air, as if reaching for the grave. I snap a photo before her fingers fall away, and I know, even before I’ve finished the roll, that shot will be my favorite one.

Dad steps up beside Mom.

“Some ghost stories are like gossip,” he says, taking up his role as the skeptical scholar. “Passed from person to person. Who knows if they’re true? But the next graveyard is home to something far more … tangible.”

“Oh joy,” says Jacob as the cameras cut off and Mom says it’s time to head to St. Roch.

She’s practically bouncing by the time we get there, as if this is the ride she’s been waiting for.