Driving alone on a foggy night, a mother sees a young girl in a torn dress, quiet and strangely familiar. As she drives closer, she notices the girl’s sad eyes, filled with secrets that might be best left unknown.
It was late, and the night seemed darker than ever. The fog hugged the car like a thick blanket, hiding everything beyond the headlights. I squinted ahead, holding the steering wheel tighter than usual.
“Just get home,” I whispered, rubbing my tired eyes. It had been a long day at work, and I couldn’t wait to crawl into bed.
I always avoided this road. I usually took the main highway, but tonight, I thought: A quick shortcut will save time.
Then, I noticed something in the distance. A shadow in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes, heart pounding. The outline was faint, but it was there in the mist.
“Please just be a tree or a mailbox,” I whispered, though I knew it wasn’t. As I drove closer, I realized it was a girl. She looked thin, and her white dress was in tatters.
A chill ran down my spine. Every instinct told me to turn back, but something held me there.
I cracked open the window, my voice shaky. “Are you okay?”
I stepped out of the car with a flashlight. The beam lit up her face, and I gasped, stumbling back. I knew that face. The pale skin, the wide eyes—it was my daughter.
“Emily?” I whispered, barely believing it. She looked at me, eyes empty and wide.
“Mommy?” Her voice was faint, like a distant echo.
Shock and relief overwhelmed me. It was Emily, my daughter who’d been missing for five years. She had vanished without a trace, and no one knew what had happened to her.
“Emily, oh my God… it’s you,” I stammered, stepping closer. “Are you hurt? Where have you been?”
She blinked slowly, her expression blank. “I… don’t know,” she murmured. Her voice was soft, like she hadn’t spoken in years.
I knelt in front of her, heart racing. “It’s okay, honey. It’s me. We’re going home now, alright?” I wrapped my coat around her thin shoulders and led her to the car. She sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out into the fog.
The drive home was quiet. I glanced over at her, but her face was blank, as if she were somewhere far away.
“Emily,” I asked gently, “do you remember anything? Anything at all?”
She didn’t look at me. “A room. It was dark. There was a man, but I can’t remember his face.”
My throat tightened. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. We’re going home.”
When we got home, she sat on the couch, looking around as if everything was unfamiliar. I asked if she remembered the place, but she only shrugged. Her voice was flat and empty.
“Mom,” she whispered, “I’m… cold.”
I wrapped a blanket around her, feeling her icy skin. The days that followed were tense. Emily was distant, barely speaking. The only time I heard her voice clearly was when she sang an old lullaby I used to sing to her. It felt strange because she shouldn’t have remembered it.
One day, I found her looking at old photo albums. Her fingers traced a picture of her father, Mark. He had died when she was a baby.
“Mom?” she said, confused. “I know him.”
I felt a chill. “That’s your dad, honey. I’ve told you about him.”
She shook her head slowly. “No, I know him from… the place.”
A cold wave of fear washed over me. Emily couldn’t remember Mark, but she knew someone who looked like him. It had to be his brother, Jake. They looked so alike, almost like twins.
I couldn’t ignore the feeling anymore. I needed answers.
The next morning, I drove to our old family cabin deep in the woods. It had been abandoned for years, but something felt off when I arrived. One of the windows was covered with a cloth. Why would someone do that?
I pushed the door open, dust swirling in the air. Everything was untouched except for a small room in the back. Inside, toys lay scattered, worn but well-loved. My heart sank. This was where Emily had been kept.
I called the police immediately. Hours later, Emily sat quietly with me as the officers searched the cabin. She clutched her blanket, looking small and sad.
“Mommy… I remember now,” she whispered. “It was Uncle Jake. He looked like Daddy, but different. He would bring food and hum that song.”
The police confirmed it that night. They found enough evidence to arrest Jake. He confessed, saying he had taken Emily to “protect” her, wanting her to rely on him. It was twisted and horrifying to realize he had been so close all this time.
When Emily heard the truth, she broke down, crying out the pain she had held inside for so long. I hugged her tightly, rocking her gently. “You’re safe now,” I whispered. “No one will take you away again.”
In the days that followed, Emily started to open up more. She would hum the lullaby at night, as if testing if it was safe to sing it again.
One evening, we sat together by the window. She leaned against me, and I softly hummed the lullaby like I used to. She looked up at me with a hint of peace in her eyes.
“I love you, Mommy,” she whispered.
Tears filled my eyes as I held her close. “I love you too, sweetheart. Forever.”
Tom Jones opens up about his marriage and love life after wife’s passing
After Linda’s death, Tom cancelled all his concerts and released a short statement:
Wife’s passing
“Surrounded by her husband and loved ones, she passed away peacefully,” the Sir Tom’s website wrote.
But last year, Sir Tom opened up on her tragic death. In an interview with This Morning, the Welshman said he would “never love again”.
His wife’s passing really crushed him and he struggled to perform on stage long after Linda was gone.
“When my wife passed away, I didn’t think I could sing,” Sir Tom explained. “When you’re emotional, you can’t sing, your voice closes up.
“There are certain songs I wouldn’t do. But you have to try and get things in the right perspective. Feeling emotional; use it to your advantage and put it into the song.
Now lives in London
“It took me a while,” he continued. “Took me a few months to try and see if I could sing. I got some of my musicians around and tried a few songs. But it was very emotional.”
Linda’s passing also had other consequences – Jones decided to sell their big mansion in Los Angeles, along with all their furniture, in order to move back to the UK.
Today he lives in a flat in London – that was Linda’s wish. His late wife had been homesick and wanted to move back to her roots, but cancer took her life before it was possible.
“She always said she wanted to come back and then she could not do it, so then she told me to do it in the last week she was alive,” said Sir Tom, who was married to Linda for 59 years.
There is no doubt that Jones still mourns Linda, whom he married at the age of 16. The couple met when Linda was 15.
Speaking to Radio 2, Sir Tom described the moment he first saw his wife-to-be:
“I remember her playing marbles and I thought, ‘My God, what great legs she’s got’. She was the best-looking girl around there and we got together. It was magic”, the singer said.
Linda and Sir Tom tied the knot as teenagers, just a month before their son, Mark, was born.
But their marriage would be rife with scandals and infidelity. For more than 50 years, Tom cheated on his wife.
om, who assumed the role of sex symbol, has previously admitted that he slept with 250 women a year at the peak of his career.
“From the very beginning, he was not exactly Mr Faithful,” biographer Sean Smith told Daily Mail in 2015.
It’s unclear how much Linda knew about her husband’s shady side, but it is clear that she suspected something wasn’t right. According to Sir Tom, the couple had a “don’t ask” policy when he was on tour.
”Linda lived a quiet life and rarely left the couple’s villa in Bel Air. During her single marriage to Tom, she has also had alcohol problems,” Robin Eggar, who wrote the official biography of Tom Jones, told the Daily Mail.
After 2003, the wife stopped accompanying her husband on his tours and remained mostly at home in the couple’s Bel Air mansion.
By then, she had already endured several scandals that must have tarnished their relationship.
In 1987, Tom Jones had a three-day fling with the 24-year-old Katherine Berkery, during tour in the US. According to reports, Katherine had no idea he was married and Tom refused to return her phone calls when she discovered she was pregnant with his child.
Nine months later, Jonathan Berkery was born in New York, in June 1988. Sir Tom denied he was Jon’s dad and refused to admit that it was his child.
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