Page 138 of The Otherworld

Orca pulls out a chair and sits down. “I have no idea. Like I said, Papa hasn’t told me anything.”

“Right.” I flip open the directory for Anacortes and riffle to the section of last names beginning with R. “Let’s start here, then.”

Orca leans over my shoulder, scanning the page of names. “So many people,” she breathes, sounding overwhelmed. “How can they keep track of them all?”

“Well, they can’t keep track of them all—look at your father. I wouldn’t be able to find his number in here.”

“Because he doesn’t have a number.” Orca frowns, resting her chin on her fist. “I suppose there’s a kind of freedom in that, isn’t there? No one knowing that you even exist. You could just… disappear.”

“You could.”

“I wonder if that’s why Papa became a lightkeeper in the first place. Because he wanted to disappear. He didn’t want to be a number in a book somewhere. Just another one of the billions of people in the Otherworld.”

I turn to look at her. “Sounds like you’re starting to like the idea of isolation.”

“Pfft. No.” She shakes her head decidedly, flipping open the San Juan Island phone book. “Unlike Papa, I’m not afraid of people.”

Rushbrook. My gaze catches on the name.

“Orca.”

“Hmm?”

“Here’s something.”

She practically jumps out of her seat to get a closer look. “Rushbrook, Daniel… Rushbrook, Patricia… Rushbrook, Frederick.” She frowns, studying the coinciding addresses and phone numbers listed after each name. “Do you think any of them could be related to me?”

“Only one way to find out,” I say, reaching across the table to snatch a sheet of paper and a pencil. “Call them.”

“But… what if they’re not related to me? Won’t that be awkward?”

“I’m sure they won’t mind being asked a simple question,” I assure her, jotting down the number for Daniel Rushbrook. “I can call for you if you want.”

Orca pinches her lower lip between her fingers. “No, no… I should do it. But I want you to be there. In case I need help. You know, talking to strangers.”

“I thought you weren’t afraid of people.”

She gives me a playful shove and laughs into her hands. I kiss the top of her head as I reach across her to grab the Fidalgo phone book. It takes a few minutes to find every Rushbrook in the vicinity and write down their phone numbers. When we finish, I take the piece of paper, and we head outside to one of the benches along the brick wall of the library.

We go through the list one number at a time, making the calls on my cell phone. Orca has me do the initial “Hello, is this so-and-so Rushbrook?” Then she sandwiches her face to one side of the phone to listen to the voice on the other end.

Daniel has never heard of Orca’s mother.

Patricia doesn’t answer her phone.

Frederick thinks I’m a telemarketer and hangs up on me.

“Try this one,” Orca says, pointing to one of the last numbers on the list. Harry Rushbrook. “I’m wondering if it’s my grandfather’s name, short for Harrison.”

I type in the number and wait through six rings before it disconnects.

“No answer?”

“No… What was the address?”

“La Conner, Washington.”

I flip my cell phone shut and slide it into my pocket. “That’s only ten miles from here. Let’s go.”

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