Chapter 42

I left my darling lying there, a-lying there, a-lying there; I left my darling lying there among the swaying grasses…

The lines were sung very quietly, and the echoes that followed the words seemed to dance around him like the gentle puffs of fresh air through an open window. He remembered real wood paneling, the smooth back and forth of a well-loved rocking chair, and a pair of arms that were both smooth to the touch and yet strong enough to lift him off his feet even though he’d been “such a big boy for his age.”

I followed o’er the otter tracks, the rabbit tracks, the possum tracks; I followed o’er the many tracks all through the swaying grasses…

Years…it had been years since he’d heard that song. That voice. The patient, soothing, perfect voice of his mother. And why, oh God and glory, why would her voice be in suck a dank and desolate spot?