Page 18 of Road Trip With the Ghost Hunter

Our fingers intertwined. I couldn’t say who initiated that. It almost felt inevitable. Inhaling deeply to compose myself, I carried on. “For us, we grow up believing they go on to face their own unique journey in the afterlife. Growing up more Americanized, it’s something you just accept as is when you’re little.”

“And now?” he asked, his voice rough and quiet.

“Now?” I sighed. “I want to believe in this ethereal paradise where she continues on. Where being human is so far out of reach, but wherever she is, I hope her memories of us are still with her, in some way. Her love is still eternal.”

After a few minutes of us lost in thought, Starship’sNothing’s Gonna Stop Us Nowplayed from my playlist in the background. His hand was still one with mine. Neither initiated letting go.

“What about you?” I asked. “You lost someone too, right?” It was a guess. Could have been recent. Could have been years ago. But I recognized that lost look of grief in his eyes because it's the same one I saw in the mirror these days.

He nodded, still focusing on the road. “Five months ago,” is all he said.

My hand squeezed, as did my heart. Lao lao went three months ago. Holy shit. We were both still raw from recent death. “You hide it better than me,” I said softly, staring at his profile. That strong jaw was surrounded by an ash-pale blonde beard. I wanted to run the tips of my fingernails through it, smooth the hard expression between his brows.

“I don’t know what I believe,” he finally said, shaking his head. “Growing up, you hear the Christian stories of God and heaven. But, as an adult, no one was really religious that I knew. Uncle Filip believed this was it. We lived on this earth; we went back into the earth when it was all said and done.”

“And what do you believe?” I’m so curious to know because even speaking of his Uncle, I could see him wrestling.

“I don’t know.” I barely heard it. He cleared his throat. “But, I want to talk to him again.” His hand twitched, the one holding mine.

He wanted to talk to him again? “Who?” I asked.

“Uncle Filip,” he answered, still not looking at me.

“How would you—“ then it hit me. The ghost hunting.

That’s when I finally got his eyes. He looked almost desperate, wanting me to understand. I nodded. “Okay,” I said.

A breath later, he nodded back. “Okay,” he said, then faced the road again.

It was a silent agreement. Did I know what all entailed in this agreement? Nope. But I knew I would hold up my end. I would be there for Lucas as he was there for me.

As we drove, music playing, hands holding, I looked over my shoulder at the vase lao lao painted. The one I made for her. The only thing of hers I chose to honor and keep with me. I wasn't going against her wishes. I wouldn’t set up an altar for her. I just felt her essence still carried within every brush stroke she made.

Lucas’s expression, while more relaxed than before, still held tension. I lightly ran my thumb back and forth over his hand. He looked down at them. I didn’t stop. After a few moments, he brushed mine with his thumb and kept driving.

I guess I was going ghost hunting.

Chapter Ten

Lucas

Li stayed quiet during our gas break and for the next hour after that. She kept flipping through her horrendous music, but she didn’t ask any more questions or share any more about her grandmother.

I thought of fifty different questions I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t make myself say the words.

Why had I told her the truth? I should have just kept my mouth closed about wanting to talk to Uncle Filip again. I knew most people wouldn’t understand the need that drove me, but I guess I figured she would. Her loss was just as recent and as deep as mine. Wouldn’t she want to talk to her grandmother again if she could? Wouldn’t she give anything for one more day with someone who was obviously so important to her?

I listened to the quiet songs that filled the car. Most of the songs she had chosen were more somber than what was playing this morning. I figured that had more to do with our conversation and the mindset I left her in than anything else. I wanted to break her out of her mood, but I had no idea how to make her smile again.

Another upbeat song started, and I expected her to change it, but she didn’t. I glanced over, and a gentle smile rested on her lips. Desperate to turn it into one of the ones I have seen before, I let out a playful groan.

“Please tell me you don’t love this song.” I didn’t mind it. I had a quick memory of a grade school dance, and my fifth-grade teacher swaying in the corner.

“You can say whatever you want about my music taste, but you do not disrespect Lionel Riche.” She got serious.

“Are you kidding?” I didn’t expect that reaction.

“Lao lao loved Lionel,” she informed me. “He was her hall pass.”

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