We’re turning back for the car when Deena starts dancing around my ankles. I set Moony on the floorboard and close the door. Eric is standing on his porch waving. “Hey, Catbird! Back already?”

I drag Daniel over. “Hey, Eric. This is Daniel. Remember?”

He grins at Daniel with a knowing expression. “Mmhmm. Well, I can see clearly what Cat sees in you. Y’all come on in for some iced tea.”

We duck inside, grateful for the blast of AC. “I didn’t know that was happening today,” I say, pointing a finger out the window.

Eric follows my lead and nods. “Yes. Two eager beavers, that couple. They’re a little too Southern Baptist for my taste, but I think they’ll keep the house up. You here for something important?”

“I wanted to spread Moony’s ashes,” I tell him. “In the yard. But it doesn’t feel right now, seeing as it’s not her yard anymore.”

Eric shakes his head. “If I’d known, honey, I would have told you to come sooner.”

“It’s all right. We’ll figure something else out.” I take a breath and feel the tug of instinct in my gut. “Can I show Daniel that yearbook you showed me?”

Eric’s face lights up. “Of course, Catbird. I can hook you up.”

We wait while he gets it from the back. When he sets it on the table, I flip through and show Daniel the pictures I found of my mom, of Sister Margaret Scott, and of Father Terry. It’s the last picture, the one of Father Terry and Sabrina White, that makes my stomach twist.

“Do you or Damien know her?” I ask Eric.

He spins the book his direction and looks at the picture. “Damien does. Only one Sabrina in this area. Must be her. She’s about twenty miles north of the town limit.”

“Really? Do you think she remembers anything about the school?” An idea is formulating, bubbling up from my stomach to my brain.

Eric looks at me. “I can’t speak for her, but that scandal was the biggest thing to happen to this town in forty years. At her own school. I doubt she’s forgotten it.”

“Do you think she knew my mom?” I venture.

“Oh, Cat, everyone knew your mom.”

I look at Daniel. “Do you think she’d talk to us?”

Eric shrugs. “Can’t hurt to try. Here, let me draw you a little map out to her place.”

We are standing on Sabrina White’s front porch. Only, it’s Sabrina Wright now, which is funny and not funny at the same time. I try not to feel nervous, and then I give up. Daniel fidgets behind me. I can feel the flutter of his hands and feet as he continually repositions himself.

“Maybe she’s not home,” he says again.