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Blue
     Horizons. It said,
I’m not crazy anymore, just ashamed
. He was wearing his old Duke T-shirt and jeans, and somehow he looked younger than I remembered. Except for the crinkling
     lines around his eyes, which deepened as he pulled me in for an awkward hug. “How you doing?”
    My voice caught in my throat for a second, and I coughed. “Good.”
    He looked over at Lena. “Nice to see you again, Lena. I was sorry to hear about your uncle.” Those were hard-bred Southern
     manners for you. He had to acknowledge Macon’s passing, even in a moment as awkward as this one.
    Lena tried to smile, but she only managed to look as uncomfortable as I felt. “Thank you, sir.”
    “Ethan, come on over here and give your favorite aunt a hug.” Aunt Caroline held out her hands. I wanted to throw my arms
     around her and let her squeeze the knot right out of my chest.
    “Let’s go on inside.” Amma waved at my dad from the top of the porch. “I made a Coca-Cola cake and fried chicken. If we don’t
     get in there soon, that chicken’ll have a mind to find its way home.”
    Aunt Caroline looped her arm through my dad’s and led him up the stairs. She had the same brown hair and small frame as my
     mom, and for a second it felt like my parents were home again, walking through the old screen door of Wate’s Landing.

    “I have to get home.” Lena was clutching her notebook against her chest like a shield.
    “You don’t have to go. Come in.”
    Please.
    I wasn’t offering to be polite. I didn’t want to go in there alone. A few months ago, Lena would have known that. But I guess
     today her mind was somewhere else, because she didn’t.
    “You should spend some time with your family.” She stood up on her toes and kissed me, her lips barely touching my cheek.
     She was halfway to the car before I could argue.
    I watched Larkin’s Fastback disappear down my street. Lena didn’t drive the hearse anymore. As far as I knew, she hadn’t even
     looked at it since Macon died. Uncle Barclay had parked it behind the old barn and thrown a tarp over it. Instead, she was
     driving Larkin’s car, all black and chrome. Link had foamed at the mouth the first time he saw it. “Do you know how many chicks
     I could pull with that ride?”
    After her cousin had betrayed her whole family, I didn’t understand why Lena would want to drive his car. When I hadasked her, she’d shrugged and said, “He won’t be needing it anymore.” Maybe Lena thought she was punishing Larkin by driving
     it. He had contributed to Macon’s death, something she would never forgive. I watched the car turn the corner, wishing I could
     disappear along with it.
    By the time I made it to the kitchen, there was already chicory coffee brewing—and trouble. Amma was on the phone, pacing
     in front of the sink, and every minute or two she would cover the receiver with her hand and report the conversation on the
     other end to Aunt Caroline.
    “They haven’t seen her since yesterday.” Amma put the phone back to her ear. “You should make Aunt Mercy a toddy and put her
     to bed until we find her.”
    “Find who?” I looked at my dad, and he shrugged.
    Aunt Caroline pulled me over to the sink and whispered the way Southern ladies do when something is too awful to say out loud.
     “Lucille Ball. She’s missin’.” Lucille Ball was Aunt Mercy’s Siamese cat, who spent most of her time running around my great-aunts’
     front yard on a leash attached to a clothesline, an activity the Sisters referred to as exercising.
    “What do you mean?”
    Amma covered the receiver with her hand again, narrowing her eyes and setting her jaw. The Look. “Seems
somebody
put the idea in your aunt’s head that cats don’t need to be tied up, because they always come back home. You wouldn’t know
     anything about that, would you?” It wasn’t a question. We both knew I was the one who had been saying it for years.
    “But cats aren’t supposed to be on