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that your parents were put in a nursing home some time ago," Presley said, still doubtful that this girl was the Paulette from back home.
    “Who is your grandmother?" Paulette asked.
    “Her name was Lillian," Presley said.
    “Oh, yes, I remember your grandmother, Lillian Dae." Hearing the girl say her grandmother’s last name sent more chills over Presley’s body.
    “How did you know my grandmother’s last name?” Presley asked.
    “Because, I knew her too. Lillian and my mother, Karen, were friends. I remember your grandmother having green plastic glasses that they’d drink their tea from. My mother would pick fresh mint from our garden, and they would sit and have their iced tea in the green plastic glasses with a sprig of fresh mint to top it off," she sniffled as she wiped her nose with her hand. We just lived down the road from your grandmother," she said softly. Presley remembered her grandmother’s green glasses.
    “How can it be that you went missing back in the fifties and you are still fifteen years old?" Presley asked, now convinced that this girl was indeed Paulette Shepard.
    “You mean, how have I remained fifteen? Well, we don’t age here. Nor do we get sick, and there is no disease,” she answered.
    “Okay, do I dare ask? Where is here?” Presley questioned again.
    “I think that I should let Jesse answer that,” said Paulette.
    “Try to explain,” begged Presley.
    “Well, I can tell you this,” Paulette started, “you are a long way from home. A few galaxies away, in fact. Jesse has tried to explain all of this to me but it’s way over my head. All I know is that I’m going back home. That’s what I was trying to do when I ran into you at the cottage. I was trying to find a way home."
    “So, there is a way to get back home?” Presley asked.
    “There has to be," Paulette said unsurely.
    Presley remembered that in her pocket was Paulette’s barrette. She reached in and pulled it out.
    “I believe this belongs to you. I recently told some of my friends about your disappearance, and out of curiosity I went into your house yesterday. I found this in one of the rooms.
    Paulette grabbed the barrette, and stared at it, and then began to cry again.
    “I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name,” she wept.
    “My name is Presley.”
    “Presley?” Paulette cocked her head to the side.
    “Yeah. Well, my mother is obsessed with Elvis Presley, hence the name,” Presley joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
    “Elvis Presley!" Paulette exclaimed. “I use to love listening to Elvis Presley on my record player. My parents never knew that I had one of his records. I remember listening to him, late at night when my parents were asleep. If they ever knew I was listening to him— well, I would’ve been in big trouble!"
    “For listening to Elvis Presley?” Presley asked with a judgmental undertone.
    “Oh shucks, yes! They were so strict. They said that he was a vulgar dancer. Most of my friend’s parents banned his music from their homes, too. It wasn’t only my parents," she insisted.
    “Wow!” Presley said, “If they thought Elvis was controversial, I wonder what your parents think about today’s music."
    “I wonder what my parents think happened to me.”
    “I think that they thought you were kidnapped by some local hate group. I think they feel that you are dead.”
    “That’s always been my fear. My father and a few other men headed up a civil rights group in Missouri. My father fought for African American rights, and at a cost, too. We had crosses burned in our yard and rocks thrown through our windows. It was very odd that your grandmother wanted to be friends with my mother. Your grandmother being white and my mother being black. She was a great lady, your grandmother."
    “Well, the world has come a long way. We have even had an African American President,” Presley stated. Paulette’s face instantly lit up.
    “In the White House? No kidding?” Paulette said, with a