“Because I don’t think there’s some world-changing, eclipsing answer to this problem. The solution’s likely a simple one and we’re wasting time on fantastical.”
I used to enjoy complexity, especially when Wilson was my company in the thick of questioning. When driving across the country, our favorite places to beg our parents to stop were observatories. We’d peek through the telescope and offer bundles of “what-ifs” to whichever volunteer was willing to answer.
Complexity became more of a nuisance when Wilson wasn’t around as much and my inquiries were answered with,it’s not important. My parents weren’t creatives, they couldn’t (and perhaps wouldn’t) dive deeper than what reality offered. Didn’t flex their imagination. And I saw merit in that. Because fantasizing led to so much more heartache and disappointment than accepting the facts ever could. Fantasy was beautiful in stories but in real life, it got nothing done. It didn’t offer solid ground to build upon. And having solid ground to build on was the one thing in this world I wanted more than anything.
“Rationalization’s very common. Even after uncovering physical evidence.” Rae stood in the entryway, hands behind her back. She didn’t make eye contact asshe carefully scanned the room. “It’s one of the five stages.”
My heart jumped but I remained firmly planted on the ground, trying not to wince at her intrusion.
“You know, most Americans won’t experience a paranormal phenomenon in their lifetime, while they consistently plague others. It’s a lot to do with the activity belt. People outside the belt can and should be skeptical.”
“The belt leads all the way out to the West Coast.” Wilson nodded. “Your team’s pinpointing a hotspot map, right?”
“We have been.” Her smile brightened her eyes. The approval she offered Wilson made my chest tighten. I nudged away the pressure, reminding myself this wasn’t summer with our parents. We were adults. We weren’t vying for attention and head pats.
“Hotspots?” I asked because, much like with her book, I didn’t like the idea of being left in the dark.
“Hotspots are areas of consistent paranormal activity. Over the years, we’ve learned that certain places attract paranormal entities. Which means if you don’t live there, it’s all fantasy.”
Rae’s gaze lingered on my fingers as I scratched my neck. She’d been doing that throughout dinner, cataloging every small move I made. I understood it was part of her work, but it didn’t make the weight of her gaze any less exhausting.
She didn’t take physical notes like December, but something told me Rae could easily list detailed observations if prompted.
“Is Elmwood in your hotspot zone?” I asked.
It took her a second to pull her gaze away from my hand. “No.”
“Which is a good thing.” Wilson released a sigh. “Once fixed, the problem won’t be chronic.”
Rae hummed and nodded, but she didn’t verbally agree. Wilson and I exchanged unsure looks, a rare moment of sibling synchronization. She scanned the room once more, gaze snagging on the row of framed photos on the mantel. Rae stepped closer, leaning in to inspect one with my uncle and I. I’d been around four and clung to him, laughing. Uncle Anthony was the first adult who’d been animated and fun around me. I’d rarely let the man have a moment of peace when he’d been around. And he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Meanwhile, my parents did their best to train me into being a quiet, polite kid.
“Do you want to start the tour?” I asked. “Before it gets too dark?”
“Let’s see what we’re working with,” she said without missing a beat. Rae started toward the foyer, leaving behind her scent of fresh linen and vanilla. Wilson offered me an encouraging smile when I glanced in his direction before following her.
“Jonah,” Rae called as she slipped on her sneakers.
He appeared in the hallway, hastily wiping away crumbs from Esther’s carrot cake.
“You have the EMF?” Rae shrugged on her jacket. I forwent my coat, grabbing a pair of work gloves instead and slipping them into my back pocket along with my walkie. It was easier to get in touch with Esther and Wilson on the radio than to pull up their numbers on a phone.
“No…I didn’t think we’d need it this early.” His cheeks were red. “I’ll get it now!”
Rae’s gaze carried a hard sternness that didn’t quite suit her. The wrinkle in her brow seemed tacked on at the last minute, an afterthought to flesh out a half-hearted scolding. “Always bring the essentials, even when you don’t think you’ll use them.”
I bit back a comment about her not bringing it either and started out the door. Jonah split off from us immediately, going to grab the forgotten item that seemed to have cost him some points with his boss.
“How far’s your nearest neighbor?” Rae had her phone out, snapping photos of the house.
“They’re…” I trailed off when she knelt, her jeans stretching across her ass. It was an unfortunately beautiful sight. The fabric hugged her as if it were just happy to be there. I understood the sentiment. I resented the sentiment.
“About twenty miles”—I swallowed, regaining my bearings when she glanced over her shoulder, confused by my pause—“west.”
I pointed toward the sunset. There was a thick forest that cut off any hint of another ranch. The trees created a hearty boundary I’d appreciated when I first toured the grounds. I liked not being on top of someone else. The thought of waking up, going outside, and having to wave at a neighbor made me want to go back to sleep immediately.
“And where’s the nearest town?” Rae fell into step with me.
The path to the stable was soaked, mud sticking to our soles. Rae’s sneakers got caught a couple of times, but she tried to play it off by taking another photo of our surroundings. I smiled after the third time, wondering if she was familiar with the struggle of not being able to project gracefulness at every turn.
