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my door, the way she always did to check on me when she got home.
    I had my back to her, and she probably figured I was asleep, but just before she closed my door again, I turned over and said, “Mom?”
    â€œHoney?” she asked, coming over and crouching beside me. “You’re still up? It’s late.”
    â€œI’m havin’ troubles falling asleep tonight.”
    She placed her hand on my forehead. “You not feeling well, baby?”
    I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t rightly know how to answer. It wasn’t that I was sick or nothing like that, but I wasn’t feeling good. So, instead, I asked, “Did you find Mary Ann?”
    With a deep breath, she looked down at my floor. “No, honey, we didn’t.”
    â€œDo you reckon someone took her?”
    My question seemed to surprise her. I saw her eyes open wider just a bit, but then she answered plainly, “I don’t know, baby. I sure hope not.”
    â€œI hope not, too,” I said.
    â€œIs this why you’re having trouble sleepin’?”
    I nodded.
    Reaching over me, she pulled me to her in a tight hug, burying my face into the side of her neck. She smelled like the rain and the woods. “Don’t you worry, we’re gonna find her,” she said. When she let go, I saw tears standing in her eyes. Sniffling, she wiped her face with the arm of her sweater. With another big breath, she swallowed and told me Uncle Henry was coming up from Mobile tomorrow to stay with us awhile. I didn’t ask why, but she explained anyway. “I just don’t want you kids to be alone right now, is all. You understand that, right?”
    I nodded.
    â€œNow I want you to go to sleep and not worry about Mary Ann. That’s my job, remember?”
    I nodded again. She kissed me on my forehead and tucked my blankets under my chin. “Good night, my little man,” she said, and stood.
    â€œNight, Mama.”
    She walked out, leaving my door open a few inches so the yellow light from the hall stretched into my bedroom. It had been more than a year since I slept with my door partway open and the hall light on, but tonight I certainly appreciated it.
    I turned back over and pulled my blankets up even tighter.
    This time Ruby Mae left me alone to sleep, but I guess I didn’t sleep too well, because when I woke up in the morning, I felt just as tired as if it were time for bed all over again. I couldn’t remember any dreams, but I had a feeling a few had floated through my brain and maybe it was forgetting them on purpose. Either way, it was Sunday and I had to get up for church.
    My mother liked to think we went to church every Sunday and Wednesday without fail, and in her own heart, I believe she thought it was true, too. Fact was, we missed church more often than we went, but it wasn’t because my mother didn’t respect the Lord. Usually it had to do with her schedule. Things just tended to get away from her most of the time.
    But on those days when things didn’t get in the way? It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d had my leg bitten off by a gator the day before—we’d still be going to church. I think even if I had managed to not sleep for four days straight, my mother would still drag me to church and force me to keep my eyes open for the whole service before bringing me back home and putting me to bed.
    And this morning we were definitely going to church, so I had to get myself out of bed and get dressed. Besides, the smell of bacon sizzling and popping in the kitchen was winding its way down the hall and through my open door. I think someone could be near on at their deathbed, barely able to get out of bed in their final throes, and still not be able to resist the smell of frying bacon and hot coffee on a wet morning. They would postpone the afterlife for one last breakfast; at least, I would. I’m surprised Jesus didn’t have a last breakfast