Blue Ridge Calling, page 15
“That never really stopped,” she said.
“He said that, too,” Noah added quietly.
Sage looked up at the ceiling, a strategy she had read somewhere that could keep you from crying. She hadn’t expected that Sam would have told Noah so much about her.
“He followed all your playlists from a burner account,” Noah said with a grin. “He really liked your music taste but didn’t want you to know that he liked it. He thought you were too pretentious already.”
Sage hadn’t known that. The music she could usually hear coming from Sam’s room was nothing like the songs on her playlists.
“And he said you looked a lot like your mom,” said Noah, “and he sometimes thought you looked nothing like him, but people could always tell you were siblings when you went out in public. He thinks you drink too much espresso for your own good. And he told me you have ADHD, but that’s another thing I could have figured out on my own.”
Sage laughed. Her fingers played with the edge of one of the notebook pages. Always moving.
“He thought he had it, too, for the record,” said Noah.
“That’s definitely true.”
“Totally.”
Sage’s chest felt a little lighter than it had before. Another thing she hadn’t expected—for Noah to make her feel better.
Noah was still thinking, tapping his pencil on the table.
“You fondly remember your family camping trips, but you don’t like to be outside if you can help it,” he said. “Again, I could have figured that out. You’re at the top of your class, even though you get bad grades in classes you don’t like. And he said he had no idea what you would be when you grew up, but that whatever it was, you would be excellent at it.”
Sage had no idea what to say to all of that. She really thought Sam wasn’t paying any attention to her. She thought they had nothing in common anymore, that their mom had taken all the joy and comfort they got from family with her when she died.
She realized in that moment that she had thought Sam didn’t like her very much, and she desperately wanted him to. But she never reached out to him. Just like with her temper tantrums.
“He said all that to you about me?” she asked. “Did he ever talk about anything else?”
Noah looked down at his coffee again. He seemed a little embarrassed.
“You forget,” he said, “I’ve known him for a year.”
“So tell me about him,” she said again, thinking he would say yes this time. “Like I’m not his sister. Like I’m some nobody.”
“I wouldn’t tell just anybody about him,” said Noah, suddenly solemn. “He takes his privacy really seriously.”
That just made Sage more curious. Why was Sam so secretive? What was he trying to hide? He watched and watched and apparently knew everything there was to know about his sister. Sage thought all their secrets were kind of on the outside now. Everyone knew they had a dead mom. What else was there to know?
“Okay, then tell me like I’m not nobody,” she said. “Like I’m a friend. We’re friends now, right? I mean, you already know all about me. I know he was hiding you for some reason, but maybe we would have been friends anyway eventually.”
Noah smiled at that. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure we would have.”
He took another sip of his coffee.
“Okay, he’s constantly alternating between hot and cold,” said Noah. As he talked, he was looking off in the distance, contemplative and removed. “Literally, I mean. He always has a cardigan, and he’s always putting it on, taking it off, putting it on. Like he can never get comfortable with the temperature.”
Sage nodded, encouraging him to continue. She knew that already, but this was good.
“He likes mocha lattes, but if it’s an older woman barista, he feels embarrassed about the sugar and orders a green tea instead,” said Noah.
Sage laughed. That would be their mom’s influence. She wasn’t very strict, but when she encouraged them to eat better, her suggestion was hard to deny.
“He’s very afraid of most bugs but refuses to call it fear,” said Noah. “He says he just prefers not to be around them. But then he jumps up on a table if he sees a spider. Let’s see, he almost never smiles but when he does, it’s usually over something stupid or something brilliant.”
Sage would have been satisfied with one or two things, but Noah kept going and she didn’t stop him.
“One time, he came in with his shirt inside out and backwards, and when I asked him how long it had been like that, he told me he had slept in it the night before,” said Noah. “He smells like aftershave, and he said he uses the same one your dad does because it makes him feel grown up.”
Noah kept going, counting things out on his fingers as he thought of them.
“He likes animals, but he talks to them in this weirdly formal way, like he’s trying to be respectful,” he said. “He’s incredibly smart, he makes connections I never would have thought of in a million years. But he doesn’t know how to tie a tie or change a tire. He doesn’t admit to liking Taylor Swift, but if pressed, he’ll say his favorite album is reputation. He’s funny, but almost no one notices because he’s never smiling. When he’s tired, he talks with his hands. I tell him he’s probably Italian. And he wants to be a professor one day, like your parents.”
Sage had been so captivated by these things that the last one caught her by surprise. Sam dropped out of college to become a full-time ghost hunter. She figured he had given up all his academic ambition or maybe had given up on the future in general. But she could see it—Sam wearing bulky sweaters and glasses and teaching a bunch of kids about folklore and legends, turning all the notes in his room into a book or two. She was distracted for a while, thinking about that, and when she looked up, Noah wasn’t looking at her. He was leaning his chin on his hand, looking melancholy.
“Oh,” she said, realization dawning on her. “You like my brother.”
Maybe she should have noticed it earlier, but she had never been quick to notice romantic feelings. Perhaps because she had never really had them. But now it seemed obvious.
Noah didn’t answer, just kept looking over her shoulder.
“He must like you too,” she said. “He never tells anyone that much stuff about himself, much less about me.”
“You don’t have to say that,” said Noah, finishing off his latte. “It’s fine.”
Sage rolled her eyes.
“Dude, I’m serious,” she said. “I’m not exactly one for the reassuring lies. Surely Sam must have told you that.”
Noah laughed. “That’s another one I could have figured out by myself,” he said.
He tried to take a sip of coffee, realized it was empty, and set it farther away.
Noah shook his head and said, “I don’t even know if he likes guys. Surely that would have come up by now if he did.”
“Did he ever talk about girls?” Sage asked.
“No,” said Noah. “I guess not.”
“He didn’t tell me, either,” said Sage. This also seemed like something she should have known. But Sam had always kept his secrets. “One time, my mom caught him with a hickey and when she asked how he got it, he said he fell down the stairs.”
Noah’s eyes went wide, and then he was really laughing, and Sage was too. They had to keep quiet because there were other people in the library, but tears started to well up in her eyes. It felt good.
They got back to work. Sage wanted to understand every page of Sam’s notebook. Somehow it was easier now that she felt like she knew more about Sam. He liked her music. He had a secret maybe-crush. It didn’t explain why he wanted to find ghosts so bad, but she felt like maybe knowing him better would help her find him.
She was glad for Noah’s help. Sam had so much to come back for.
Chapter 13
When the five of them met up again to get back on the road, things felt much more solemn than the first time.
Kora had stayed with Hunter the last couple nights to avoid her mom. She would have gone over to the Riveras’, but Sage was fighting with her dad, and Kora didn’t want to get in the middle of it. Noah seemed sadder and more distant than before, less interested in the folklore and more concerned for Sam. Connor was withdrawn, trying to keep his distance from Kora and Hunter, but seemingly still committed to the cause. Hunter was the only one who kept a level head, though for once, she didn’t try to crack jokes or lighten the mood.
Connor was less hesitant this time when he handed the keys over to Kora. Sage took her spot in the front seat and navigated them to their next destination.
This lead didn’t seem promising, so morale was low. Sam had lots of notes on the Brown Mountain Lights—mysterious lights that appear over the mountains at night that you can only see from a distance—but there was no clear guidance on how he planned to investigate. All they had to go on was a printed-out list of scenic overlooks along the Blue Ridge Parkway where believers reported they could see the lights. They didn’t have an exact plan, but they knew the lights were only visible at night, so they set up camp and waited until dusk.
The campsite was bare bones, just a spot of dirt in the woods, but it was enough. They set up a tent and snacked unenthusiastically, unwilling to put in the effort for a real lunch. By now, the sun had risen over the trees and beat down on them relentlessly. It was too hot to do much of anything, so Kora lay down under some trees and rested her head on her arms. They passed the afternoon playing card games and reading and using their shirts to wipe the sweat from their faces.
Connor went for a walk and came back with news of a nearby creek, so they all put on their boots and followed him. The creek was shallow and narrow but quick, and the water was cold, so it must have come from higher up the mountain. Kora stripped until she was just wearing her underwear and t-shirt, and she lay on the shallow rocks, letting the water run over her shoulders and down her legs. It felt so good she thought she might fall asleep.
She felt water splash on her face and looked up, holding her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. Hunter stood over her, backlit, dark hair gleaming. She stood ankle-deep in the water, her hiking boots stowed on a dry rock.
Kora splashed back, managing to wet the bottom of Hunter’s shorts. Hunter examined the wet spot, shrugged, and sat down in the river next to Kora.
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the creek roll over rocks and cicadas shriek in the trees. As she closed her eyes and basked in the warm sun and cool water, she could feel Hunter’s eyes on her, but every time Kora looked, they were trained on a smooth rock Hunter was turning over in her hands.
Once the sun began to dip, Sage called them all back to the campsite. They took turns changing out of their wet clothes, and Hunter tied a length of rope between two trees so they could hang them up to dry.
Dinner was bags of chips and jelly sandwiches, which they messily assembled and ate without plates or napkins.
As the sun started to set, the gang left most of their things at the campsite. They climbed into the Jeep and set out on the Parkway.
“So, what’s the plan?” Connor asked.
Kora looked at Sage. Her ponytail was so tight it looked like she had no hair on the top of her head. Her fingernails were chewed to the nub. She was in no shape to take the lead.
“Well, we have all these overlooks on a map,” she said, pulling out the large gas station map of North Carolina where they had dotted a few spots along the Parkway with a Sharpie. “I guess we’ll just go to each one and see if we can find anything to indicate that Sam was there.”
The others were quiet in the backseat. It was a flimsy plan, she knew, but there was nothing else to do but search. She identified the first one on the map and pulled out of the campsite parking lot.
Driving along the Parkway at dusk was beautiful, even if it felt a little futile. The sun was setting in the West over the valley below.
At their first stop, they found a small platform where travelers could admire the view. Linville Gorge dropped beneath them and stretched for miles in every direction, bright blue sky arcing above. A river carved its way through, rocky and subtle. Kora could see tiny hawks swoop over the trees in the distance, but she knew up close, their wingspan was impressive.
The myth of the Brown Mountain Lights said that small glowing orbs were supposed to appear over the mountains in the distance after dark. But at the moment, the whole valley was lit up with the last vestiges of the summer sun, the tops of the trees illuminated.
They found nothing at the first overlook, so they headed for the next. By the time the last sunlight dropped below the horizon, they had searched through five different stops along the Parkway, all of them beautiful, and all of them empty. Occasionally they saw tourists passing through, looking through binoculars and taking pictures with their phones. They walked along the perimeter of each one, hoping for a sign to appear in front of them, like the watch at Helen’s Bridge.
No such luck.
The sixth overlook on their list was the biggest and most mentioned in the notebook—Wiseman’s View. It was said to be the best vantage point from which to see the lights.
As soon as they drove around the bend and saw the parking lot for the spot, they saw that it was much more popular than the others. The parking area was almost full with cars. As they drove in and found a place to park, they saw license plates from all around the area: Tennessee, Kentucky, Georgia. One from New Mexico.
As they got out of the Jeep, the light was just turning from dusk to dark. They followed a dirt path from the parking lot to some stone steps that led down to a small outcropping. They passed a few people who were there to see the view, but not nearly as many as there were cars in the parking lot. Kora and Sage looked at each other. Something felt unnerving. Where were the rest of the tourists?
They continued walking down the steps until they reached the overlook. It was difficult to see now that it was darker, but the view was obviously stunning. Kora could see the dim outline of the mountains where they carved out of the sky in the distance, a small swipe of pink still hovering over the horizon. A few small lights dotted the mountainscape from remote vacation homes, but most of the valley was dark.
Kora had yet to see anything on their journey that she felt was undeniably magical, but something about the stars giving way to endless swaths of black where the forest continued uninterrupted made her feel calm and still. It had been a long day of nothing, and she felt her exhaustion and hopelessness quiet. Crickets chirped and cicadas hummed, and somewhere in the distance, another river tumbled over rocks.
Hunter stood next to her, taking in the same view. Kora bumped her shoulder against Hunter’s and gave her a little smile. She got nothing in return. Hunter continued to look out into the darkness.
She was about to ask if everything was okay, but then she heard a noise.
It came from over her left shoulder, back up toward the parking lot. She glanced at the others and saw that they heard it too. It sounded like a person talking. They filed back up the narrow stone steps and went in search of the sound.
Halfway up the path, they saw light through the trees to their right. The voices were soft, but there were obviously multiple people talking. Kora’s heart was in her throat. For one second, she allowed improbable hope to seep in. Maybe Sam had been right here the whole time, camping with some new friends. Maybe he got distracted and forgot to come home. Maybe he was just trying to see the lights.
Hunter and Connor went to get flashlights from the car. Kora led the rest of them into the forest. The people were not far off the path. Kora made sure her footfalls could be heard as they approached—she didn’t want to startle them.
Five or so people gathered around a makeshift campsite with a single tent, a gas burner, food, blankets, and old-fashioned oil lamps. On the other side of the site, Kora could see that the forest thinned out so that this area had roughly the same view of the valley as the overlook. Large, expensive-looking telescopes and long-lens cameras were set up pointing at the mountains.
“Um, hi,” she said. Everyone, most of whom had been moving around doing some kind of task, looked up and stared at her. In the dark, with only flames to see by, they looked like a bunch of large owls peering at her from between the trees.
“We have this area reserved,” said a man in glasses who sat cross-legged on one of the blankets. His tone was unnecessarily aggressive for the situation, in Kora’s opinion.
“Oh, sorry to bother you,” she said, trying her best to sound charming even though she was mostly confused. “We weren’t trying to—we were actually just curious what you were doing out here.”
“Listen,” said a woman in a large, bulky sweater and wildly tangled hair. “If you’re not from the city you can’t tell us to move. We’re not bothering anybody. Nobody tries to use the overlook after dark.”
Kora stared at the woman, uncertain what to say. She was taken aback by how immediately defensive they were.
“We’re not from the city,” Sage said aggressively. Kora did not think matching their energy was a good idea.
“We’re just… tourists,” said Kora. “We came to see the view, but we got here too late.”
“Well,” said the man who had spoken before, “lucky for you, you’ve arrived just in time for the real view.”
Kora relaxed, as the man seemed to believe them. Noah stepped forward to speak.
“Excuse me, sir, are you talking about the lights?” he asked politely. “The Brown Mountain lights?”
Now, several pairs of eyes focused on him.
