MICHAEL
"Perhaps not, but we'll keep looking."
She blows on the milk, takes a slow mouthful. "What I'm meaning is, it's about continuity, isn't it. As long as I'm here, there's a bit of her too. And my father. It's not all gone. And if..."
"If what?"
She chokes up. "He's so unhappy. He's usually so full of life; so full of... of take-it-in-big-bites... He's... It's just not him."
"He? Who? James? I thought we were talking about you?"
"Yes... No... Yes..."
"Charlotte, you're not making a lot of sense."
Looking away, she drinks more of the milk, but moonlight reflects from the tears trailing down her cheeks.
I lay an arm over shoulders, kiss her face. She's chilled, tasting salty. "You want to find your mother. He wants his daughter back." I rub at my forehead. "I hate seeing him like this too. I wish there was something I could do to help him, but he'll get over it."
She turns to look at me. "You think so?"