Chapter Three

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                                                                      Chapter 3 

                                                                              1

                The car rolled on smoothly with Ms. Wilkes at the wheel, and even though Leah sat next to her in the passenger seat of the ‘01 Taurus, the girl did not make an effort at conversation.  It was not that she had anything against the woman.  She was a kind black lady of around forty, who had done everything she could for them so far, though Leah got the impression that she was thinking all the while: This is just business.  Misplaced children were her business, and she did not want to be here just as much as they didn’t.  So for the duration of the trip, Leah rested her head against the seat and looked out the window.

                 Many things passed by that window – trees, houses, signs, buildings – until Leah was nearly convinced that the car was sitting still and the earth was moving beneath them in a repetitive band, like in some old movie.  She considered this for a while, though she knew it could be proven false by some law of physics or other scientific thing, but it didn’t matter.  She wasn’t really interested in any of that.  She began to stare off into blank space, considering more important things along the road to Aunt Claire’s.

                 The girls had been to their aunt’s house before, more than once but not often.  It had been three years since the last visit – and Leah remembered this clearly because it was the Thanksgiving just after her mother had left.  Dad’s younger sister had volunteered to cook, and he had agreed that it might take the stress off the holiday if they went out to the country, but more importantly, if they spent it in a different house. 

                 The four of them had gathered around the table in the kitchen that hadn’t been remodeled in ages, with the water stains in the ceiling corner and the lumpy linoleum, and they had pretended to be a family.  It hadn’t gone too well.  Claire had served them a meat she’d called ‘ham’ but Leah wasn’t sure she believed it.  It was served with a dry, stiff bread that could scarcely be chewed, complemented by warmed bowls of canned vegetables.  It didn’t take too many minutes of looking it over before Leah had decided that she wasn’t hungry.  Tabitha had merely played with her food, building small forts, and their dad had eaten silently, absently.  He might have eaten a cockroach and not noticed even after it was swimming around in his stomach acid.  When they had finally left that day, Claire had seemed somewhat insistent that they stay, as if desperate for company, but Leah felt that they had all been glad to go.  Now she was going back there and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.  She hadn’t allowed herself to believe that they would make it this far.

                 “Are you sure it was mom?” Tabitha piped up from the backseat after being silent for miles.  Had she been dwelling on this idea for the entire ride?  Leah rolled her eyes at the immediate sound of it.  She had very bold words for such a slight girl, and Tabitha’s tone was skeptical, which always put Leah on edge.

                 “It was her; I told you,” Leah insisted, turning her head slightly to cast her voice into the backseat before looking back to the window.  Tabitha wasn’t the first one to question the existence of the woman Leah had claimed to see in the cemetery.  In fact, no one else seemed to have noticed that woman, or else could not isolate her from the rest of the blackened crowd, and no one at all had admitted to seeing her mother there.

                 “Well, did you see her face?” Tabitha pressed forcefully, defensive and taking stance for an argument.  She hated to be wrong, and Leah hated to argue.

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