Page 108 of The Souls of Lost Lake

She skidded to a halt as Pippin rounded the cabin. A fishing pole was in his hand. Wren sucked in a breath of relief. That’s right. He liked to fish at the small pond just yards into the woods from here. His brow was furrowed, his barely there mustache lifted to the right as he scrunched his mouth in question.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Where’s Dad?” she demanded. Wren opened the passengerside door and grabbed her phone. Turning, she slammed the door. Pippin leaned his pole against the porch.

“I’ve been trying to find Dad,” she continued, “and he’s not answering my calls. He wasn’t in his office. He isn’t at home. He isn’t here.”

“He is probably in town having coffee over his weekly Tuesday Zoom calls with the university.”

Oh. Pippin was right. Their father always did that. Zoom calls in the coffee shop on Tuesdays.

“I have a question.” Wren leveled her attention on her brother.

Pippin leaned against the hood of her truck. He didn’t appear to welcome the question, but he didn’t stop her either.

“Do you remember when I was born?”

He shrugged.

“Tell me about it.” Wren waited.

“What do you want to know? You were born. Mom and Dad brought you home from the hospital. You cried—a lot.”

“Did I?” Wren couldn’t help but laugh.

“It was annoying.”

Wren ignored that, and her brother’s frank, unemotional stare that offered no apology for it. “Do you remember Mom being pregnant?”

Pippin rubbed his mustache. “Sure.”

Wren flicked on her phone and showed the article to Pippin. He skimmed it.

“And?” Pippin raised his eyes.

“You don’t recognize it?”

“The baby?”

“Yes.”

Pippin’s expression was placid. “It’s a baby.”

“It’s me.” Wren watched his face. It was so blank. So empty. It told her nothing.

Pippin handed her back her phone. “It’s a baby,” he repeated.

Wren slipped her phone into her pocket. He was no help. Ifanything, he was more detached than usual. “Fine, Pippin. I’m going to head into town. See if I can find Dad.” She rounded the truck and opened the driver’s door to climb in.

Pippin’s arm stretched out beside her and slammed the door shut.

“Hey!” Wren leveled a glare at him.

Pippin was inches from her, his arm still extended, holding her door shut.

“What are you doing?” An uneasiness she’d never felt around Pippin made her shift away from him.

“You don’t need to find Dad.” He was still expressionless. “Dad’s in a meeting, and this type of thing would just upset him.”