“Oreo found it?” I asked, confused.
“It’s a long story, but I kind of think that cat is a ghost or something. Hopefully not the Pet Sematary reincarnation kind but more like the Casper kind.”
I furrowed my brows. “A ghost? Really?”
He took my hand and led me back to the table where he picked up my chair for me. We both sat down. Lucas met my gaze as he reached for his drink and held it up. “To our friendship.”
A chill ran across my entire body before I picked up my glass and clinked it to his. “To exploring.”
Lucas winked, then laughed. “To exploring.”
Oreo had, of course, followed us upstairs and sat on the top step outside the attic door.
“Okay, let’s see if this is the key.” Lucas said.
Lucas pushed it into the lock, and before he turned it, I grabbed his hand.
“Wait.”
He moved his hand and looked at me. One single bulb lit up the small hallway. My hands were shaking, and I quickly rubbed them together to calm my nerves.
“What if we find something that changes everything?”
With a frown, he asked, “Changes what?”
I shook my head frantically. “I don’t know…this whole thing with the dates being wrong.”
He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. “I forgot to tell you. Dad sort of hinted that maybe Grams and Granddad might have broken up.”
I was positive my eyes were about to bug out of my head. “What?”
“Yeah, he didn’t really come out and say it, but he made it seem that way.”
“And you forgot to tell me!”
He laughed. “Well, in my defense, a lot of messy shit has happened since I came back from my folks’ place.”
“That’s true. So, you’re not worried?”
Lucas took my hands in his. “Paige, I don’t think Granddad would have us stumble on something that might hurt either of us in any way. I’m not worried.”
I chewed on my lip. “Okay, I’m not worried either.”
When he smiled, I felt my heart jump. I was going to ignore the urge to reach up and kiss him.
“Let’s see what’s up here.”
Excitement bubbled inside of me. “I haven’t been up here since I was a little girl.”
“Same,” Lucas said, turning the lock. We heard it click, and when he pushed the old wooden door open, it let out a creak — or was that a moan — that would give any scary movie a run for its money.
Oreo rushed inside.
“She doesn’t seem to be worried. Come on,” he said, taking my hand and stepping into the large attic. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
“If I remember right, there is a light to your left,” I said. Lucas kept a hold of my hand and walked a few feet.
“Here it is.”
I heard the click of the switch, and light filled the attic as I took a long look around the giant space.
“Wow, I forgot how huge it was up here,” I whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” Lucas asked.
I shrugged and laughed. “I don’t know, just seems like the right thing to do.”
Lucas walked toward the center of the attic. It ran from one side of the house to the other, both in length and width.
“Granddad told me he used to sleep up here when he was younger. He had his own area over in that corner in the front right.”
I looked across the room and could make out a bed. “There’s still a bed up here.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
Doing a full circle, I took in the attic space. It was packed with boxes, old trunks, furniture. It was filled almost to capacity.
“Whose furniture is this?” I asked, making my way to an old chest. Sitting on top of it was a porcelain bowl and pitcher, the kind that would be placed in bedrooms for people to wash up with.
“This is my great grandparents’ stuff.”
I faced Lucas. “What? How do you know?”
Lucas was standing in front of a grandfather clock.
“I remember this clock. It used to be in the front hallway. God, I couldn’t have been but maybe two or three. Granddaddy used to stand in front of it when it went off, the ringing of the bell used to make me laugh.”
“But, I thought May and William lived in this house when you were born.”
“They did. My great grandmother was still alive, she stayed in…” he stopped talking and quickly turned to look at me. “Your room. The room you’re staying in now, it was her room.”
I smiled. “How wonderful! William never told me that.”
“He didn’t talk a lot about his mom. My father used to tell me his grandmother was a troubled soul. She lost herself when her husband died. I remember she loved to knit. And read.”
“That explains the bookshelf in that room. It’s still filled with books,” I said.
An odd look moved over his face, and he tried not to smile, but he did.