Her stretchy pink tank top is giving its all, but despite its noble effort, near-term pregnancy is winning out. The neckline of that shirt will never be the same.
She makes a face at me.
"Come on, Emma. It's been six months since you got engaged. As in, officially engaged. Can't you give me even a little bit of a hint about the wedding date?"
"If I did that, then I would be telling the secret to myself, and you know how much I hate spoilers," I say.
"You're telling me you haven't even talked about a date?" she sputters.
"We've talked about it," I shrug. "We just haven't chosen one yet. It's not like there's a rush. We're enjoying being engaged."
I wrap my arms around Sam's waist and kiss him. He tastes like cinnamon and cream cheese frosting.
"That is some fluffy non-committal nonsense right there," Bellamy says.
I let out a short laugh and look over my shoulder at her. Her sass is definitely taking on more of an edge as the weeks count down to the baby’s arrival. But it never manages to have as much attitude as I think she intends.
"Speaking of camping, have you seen this?"
Eric had taken his cinnamon rolls into the living room as soon as I’d finished pouring the icing over them. From the looks of the pan on the kitchen table, he's been having to get pretty territorial about his food in recent weeks. Not that I'm going to get anywhere close to saying that to him or Bellamy.
"You're just going to rewind all the way back to that point in the conversation, huh?" Dean asks with a laugh.
"You think I'm getting myself involved in all that?" Eric asks. "I'm going to skip right over it."
We pull Bellamy to her feet, gather up our cinnamon rolls and coffee, and head into the living room. Eric has the TV on and has paused it on a face that looks vaguely familiar. I can't exactly place it, but I know I've seen it before. I drop down onto the couch beside him, bending one leg up under me and resting the other foot on the coffee table.
“Who's that?” I ask, ripping off a chunk of my roll to pop in my mouth.
“That is Ken Abbott,” Eric says.
“Ken Abbott, the paranormal investigator?” Sam asks.
“Excuse me, the what?” I ask.
“Paranormal investigator,” Dean says. “He and his team travel around investigating haunted houses and locations with rumors of paranormal activity.”
“He's a Ghostbuster, is what you're telling me,” I say.
“I don't know if I would say he actually busts any ghosts. They just investigate them,” Dean says.
“Oh,” I say. “Because the difference is so distinct.”
“They had a couple of specials on TV the last couple of years,” Eric adds.
“They actually started a regular show a couple of months ago,” Sam chimes in. “It’s pretty good.”
I look back and forth between them.
“What is happening right now?” I ask.
“Sam likes Ghostbusters,” Xavier says.
“They're not Ghostbusters,” Sam laments with a wide gesture. “They're paranormal investigators. And the show is actually pretty interesting.”
“Is that what you do when you stay at your place at night? Watch ghost stories?” I ask.
“There has to be something to keep the mystery alive in our relationship,” he replies with a sparkle in his eye.
“I think the last thing either one of you needs is more mystery in your life,” Bellamy points out.
“Anyway,” Eric says. “What I'm trying to tell you is their team is going to be not too far from here doing an investigation next week.”
“Not far from here?” I ask. “Where?”
“Hollow River Mountain,” Eric says.
“In the national park?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he nods. “They're going to investigate the Black Campground.”
“Why do I feel as if you should be saying that while wiggling your fingers at me and doing a big booming laugh?” I ask.
“Because he should be,” Sam says. “It's not the Black Campground. It was called Arrow Lake Campground. And it’s not exactly close. The mountain is several hours away.”
“Was?” I raise an eyebrow. “It's not there anymore?”
“It's there,” Eric explains. “But it's been abandoned for years. That's why they're going up there. Listen, they're talking about it.”
He presses play, and I listen to the interview.
“It's been thirteen years since the last documented disappearance,” Ken is saying.
“Documented disappearance?” the interviewer asks. “Do you mean you think other people have gone missing at the campground, but nobody realizes it?”
“I think that's completely possible,” Ken nods. “A lot of people cross through those woods when they want to be by themselves. When they want to start new lives. They go in thinking they're going to find something better. A lot of them never make it out.”
“What do you think you're going to find there?” the interviewer asks.
“I don't know. Anything is possible in a place like that. The deep history of the area. The blood of generations upon generations of people soaking into the ground. Disappearances and murders. Combined with the spiritual energy of water in that much abundance. It could be one of our most active investigations to date.”
“Do you think it could be dangerous?”
“Of course I do. I never go into any of these investigations lightly. We are facing forces we don't understand. While the vast majority of paranormal phenomena are harmless, the same can't be said for all of them. Anyone who has any experience with our work knows we have encountered terrifying situations. We've been physically attacked and injured. Not to mention the psychological effects. Both my fellow investigator Elsie and I have suffered spiritual attachments, and have had to seek expert help overcoming them," Ken says.
"I can't believe what I'm hearing," I mutter.
Eric elbows me. "Listen."
"Why do you do it?” the interviewer asks.
“Why do anything?” he asks, then laughs as though he thinks he's the cleverest person in the room before going dark and gloomy again. “Because we can. Because we must. Because we need to know.”
I stand up. “Well, I can and I must go get another cup of
