Chapter 9
Dylan reached the landing at the top of the stairs just as the front door opened.
“Dylan? Where are you?” His mother called out.
“I’m upstairs. I didn’t see a desk anywhere down there, so I figured I’d come up here. Come on up.”
Before he could turn to greet them, a flickering light drew his attention to a room at the end of the hallway.
His grandmother’s voice called up the stairs. An unfamiliar urgency filled her voice. “His desk is in the library. It’s up there. We’ll be up in a minute. Don’t go in yet. Wait for us.”
Muffled sounds of hushed arguing followed, but he continued ahead. He didn’t want to deal with his mother right now. The strange sensation in his spine was intensifying, which made him think if it kept up, his entire body would thrum by the time he reached the library, though he wondered how his grandmother would know where anything was in Homer’s house.
He took a deep breath, making his way toward the cracked door. The flickering glow luring him forward. He felt as if he were moving in slow motion.
He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, spinning him around. His grandmother narrowed her eyes at him.
“Don’t you go in there yet. We’ll go in, but I’ve got something I need to say first.”
Dylan arched an eyebrow, but looked past her, meeting his mother’s gaze. She shrugged and nodded. He let his eyes drift back to his grandmother’s. Her eyes filled with a clarity that had been absent before, and she kept a firm grip on his shoulder.
“I don’t know what’s waiting for you in there.” She sighed. “But if I know Homer, he’s set something up to not give you a choice. Your mother’s right. When you were born, Andrew was his heir and was being trained to take his place here. Your father was his backup plan. That’s why he agreed to do whatever he did when you were little. Merrin doesn’t really know how angry he was after she wouldn’t let him see you. You do have a choice until you walk through that door. Just know that if you do, you may never be able to leave this town again. I don’t know what Homer did, but he rarely left this house, let alone ventured out of town. He always said his work was here. You’re young and have a lot of years ahead of you. I understand if you don’t want to be tied down to this bullshit—whatever it is.”
He smiled and asked, “How are you feeling, Mamaw?”
She smiled at him. “Honestly, I’m feeling better than I have in a long time.”
He nodded. “And Homer told you that if I brought you here, I could help you?”
She stared at him, looking as if she didn’t want to answer. After what felt like an eternity, she shrugged.
Dylan narrowed his eyes at her. “I see how it is. You’re not going to tell me I need to do this for you, but I seem to remember you saying he did say that… granted, it was after he died.”
His grandmother didn’t move.
“Fine. If you’re going to be all stoic on me, I’ll make the decision based on what you said before.” He waved his mother and aunt to them. “If whatever is waiting for me through that door has even a chance of helping her,” he hitched his chin toward his grandmother, “then I don’t think I have a choice.” His gaze turned to his mother. “No arguments. This is on me. No blaming Homer. No blaming anyone . This is what it is.”
He turned in the dark, heading toward the flickering light at the end of the hall.