The Elders (Mind Dimensions #4)(17)

Realizing that Hillary’s gotten to me, I reflect on how my aunt is good at influencing people, even without needing to resort to Guiding.

Hillary becomes more subdued the closer we get to our destination. As we wait to be let into the Palm Haven private community, she’s completely silent. I understand why. She’s never forgiven her parents for disowning Margret, her older sister and my biological mom. I think part of her may even blame them for Margret’s murder, even though we know Kyle was really at fault. I have mixed feelings about meeting my grandparents, so I can’t even imagine what it’s like for Hillary.

“You don’t have to join me,” I say as the security guard Hillary must’ve Guided lets us through. “You can wait in the car.”

“That’s insane,” she says, turning right at the first intersection. “You can’t just walk in and say, ‘Hi, I’m your grandson.’”

“Why not?” I glance at her. “That’s exactly what I’d do.”

“I know.” She parks the rental car next to a faded pink house with a large, dry palm tree next to it. “That’s why I’m doing all the talking.”

“Okay.” I slam the car door closed a little too strongly.

She walks up to the house and rings the doorbell.

No one answers for a while, so Hillary knocks on the door with her tiny fist.

The door opens.

A man stands there. He has a look of utter shock, but quickly hides it. Hillary must be the last person he expected to see on his doorstep.

Who is he? He looks too young to be Hillary’s father, let alone Margret’s, who would’ve been older than this dude. He looks to be in his mid-thirties, at most. The only thing that makes me think this guy is older is his eyes. They look weary from life, like the eyes of some elderly people.

“George,” Hillary says, her voice like dry ice. “What are you doing here?”

“The same as you, I imagine,” the man—George—says.

“I doubt we’re here for the same reason,” my aunt says.

“Wait.” George frowns at her. “You mean you didn’t hear?”

“About you being one of the Ambassadors? I did. Congratulations.”

He sighs. “No, about Ronald.”

“What about him?”

“You better come inside,” George says and opens the door wider.

As we enter, I get a sense of déjà vu. It’s as though I’ve walked into Gamma and PopPop’s house. My mom Sara’s parents also live in Florida, and their house has the same dated furniture, is similarly dusty and unkempt, and has the same musty smell. There’s also a faint hint of garlic, not unlike Nana and Granpop’s house—Lucy’s parents. I’m glad those two live in Queens, as it would be beyond odd to have four sets of grandparents living in Florida.

Having three is strange enough.

George leads us into the kitchen, where an old woman is standing with a cup of tea. When she sees Hillary, her eyes widen, and she shakily puts her cup down on the counter.

When she speaks, her voice sounds bitter. “Is this what it takes to get you to visit? One of us needs to suffer?”

“Nice to see you too, Anne,” Hillary says coolly. “Can you tell me what you and George are talking about? What’s wrong with Ronald?”

“You won’t call him Dad, even now?” Anne picks up her tea again, her withered hands cradling the cup as if deriving comfort from it.

“Mom, what’s wrong with Dad?” Hillary asks, managing to make those usually warm words sound empty.

“Come, I’ll show you,” Anne says. “But leave your Unencumbered plaything in the kitchen. Seeing him will upset your father too much.”

Is she talking about me? “I am not—”

“He’s not Unencumbered,” Hillary says. “He’s actually a powerful Guide that Daddy would approve of.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, my newfound grandmother walks out of the kitchen.

As we go deeper into the house, a new smell permeates the air, that of some kind of medicine. We enter a large master bedroom. In the middle is something that looks like a hospital bed, with an old man lying in it, his expression that of a scowl.

“You’re too early,” he says to Hillary, his voice raspy. “I’m not dead yet.”

“Hello to you too, Dad,” Hillary says. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

“You really don’t know?” Anne furrows her brow at her daughter. “You didn’t come here to gloat at your father’s pain?”

Hillary looks as if her mother slapped her.

“We came here because I need to meet with the Elders,” I say, getting aggravated.

Hillary puts a hand on my arm and says, “We think his Reach is high enough to be considered—”

“He’s a potential?” Her father’s expression visibly softens. “Are you telling me you married someone who suits your station?”

“We’re not—”

“—going to discuss anything until I learn what happened to you,” Hillary says, this time squeezing my arm.

“What’s there to tell?” Ronald says bitterly. “I fell.”

“And broke his hip,” Anne adds. “Don’t forget that part.”