Nathan looked at the ceiling. He didn’t need to go upstairs to identify the source of the sound. Above his head, his mother’s slippers moved across the hardwood as she paced the length of her bedroom. It’s what she did now.

Cross-legged in front of the TV, Nathan tuned out the Fonz and concentrated on the low conversation in the kitchen. He shivered. The redbrick fireplace in the corner sat cold and empty. He pulled the afghan off the sofa and wrapped it around his shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do.” Despair edged Dad’s voice, as always when he talked about Mom these days. She hadn’t been the same since Christmas, when she started wandering the house at night instead of sleeping. It was as if the insomnia she’d suffered from for years went berserk.

Scuff, scuff, scuff.

Fear wormed through his stomach.

“Aye. It’s verra bad indeed, Robert.” Nathan’s uncle Aaron, Mom’s brother, had just come from Scotland a few months ago. When he talked about Mom, sadness thickened his accent. Tonight it sounded like a foreign language. “Bloody hell. Our mother had the same sickness. Did Gwen ever tell you about that?”

Probably not. Nathan had never met anyone in his mom’s family except Uncle Aaron. Mom’s parents were dead, and her few remaining relatives still lived in the mountains of her homeland.

“I dinna think so.”

“I’ve taken her to five doctors. The medicine they gave her made her worse.” Dad sniffed and his breath hitched.

Was he crying? Nathan’s stomach cramped. Couldn’t be. Dad didn’t cry. Dad was tough. Nathan pulled his knees to his aching chest and wrapped both arms around them, but he still felt like he was going to fly apart.

“Doctors canna help her, Robert.” Uncle Aaron’s voice rang with certainty.

Even from the rec room, Nathan’s dinner hardened in his stomach.

“The priest is coming tomorrow to talk to her,” Dad said.

“You must listen to me, Robert. No one can help her. Not your doctors nor your priest. This…sickness. It will get much worse. She will do things…” The deep voice hushed to a murmur.

Nathan rose and switched off the TV. Happy Days disappeared with a blip as the glass screen went blank. He eased to the kitchen, hesitating in the doorway. At the table, his father’s blond head rested on his bent arms. Uncle Aaron put his hand on Dad’s shoulder and squeezed.

“But I’ve been researching something that may work. Something old and powerful.” His uncle’s burr deepened.

Nathan pulled back. Eavesdropping wasn’t polite. But Uncle Aaron’s blue eyes lit up. He gave Dad’s arm a final, comforting pat. Broad arms nearly spanned the small room as Uncle Aaron opened them wide. “Come here, lad.”