His gaze goes back to his mug and that moment of sharing vanishes. I could’ve swum through his sadness, but all he does is take another gulp of tea. Bringing out his tobacco, he starts making his rollies. That’s all I am going to get. I feel tears burn my eyes so I grab the plate and mumble something about cleaning up and getting back home. He pushes his mug towards me and says nothing as I take everything inside. Pop leaves me to myself while I scrub away my pain under boiling hot water. Making him up another mug of tea, I place it carefully in front of him. I get the biggest shock when his hand covers mine, patting it softly a few times before pulling back like nothing happened. The tears I’ve been fighting threaten again. I bend down and give him a peck on the cheek before making a quick retreat. He says nothing, watching me walk off with Mum’s plate.

The walk home clears my head a bit, although not as much as that hand pat, and I realise how silly it all sounds. How could a young woman disappearing over fifty years ago have anything to do with Laney? Unless those Potter boys are some kind of Deliverance freaks, going around taking black girls every few decades. I want to laugh it off, but what other options are there? I know I’m deliberately shying away from the other possibilities.

Remember daughter, the world is a lot bigger than anyone knows. There are things that science may never explain. Maybe some things that shouldn’t be explained.

Mum’s voice intrudes. These women are sending me nuts.

Then again, Mum might know the story of the girl, but asking her about it now would be suicide. I see Laney’s face and know I have to try. I hope Mum understands.

Day 1, Night

Day 1, Night

An hour later guilt has raised its ugly head. Not only did I confess to Mum what Pop had told me, it also forced out the story of my nightmare. Mum’s complete silence as she stood at the kitchen counter refusing to look at me leaves me with the horrifying feeling that she’s crying. I mumble an apology, say something about my English assignment, and go to my room to stare at the ceiling in misery. A soft tap at my open door and I look up to see Uncle Joe’s face, glancing nervously around. Another thing men don’t do is go into their niece’s bedrooms alone. All the family had left before I got back. Uncle stayed so he and Mum can do a few laps around the most obvious places Laney might go.