“Noah was busy trying to look like the only thing we'd been doing was discussing politics. He crossed one leg over the other and actually folded his hands in his lap.”

“My legs felt shaky and I gripped the back of Dad’s chair. The still images on the screen stared back at me. “Do you know what caused it?” I asked. No one said anything. I looked at Mom. “What triggered it?” “You did,” she said gently. “We think you’re the trigger.”

“It was like trying to solve a math equation with a poem.”

“Before we had left for Charleston, I had been shoved—hard—by and unseen spirit wreaking havoc in our house. I had been hurt, but it wasn’t nearly as serious as what had happened in Ohio.I tried to smile. “I guess I’m just a paranormal punching-bag.”

“Dad stepped forward. "Mr. Zelden, I'm Patrick Silver."Zelden Frowned. “It’s Doctor Zelden, if you don’t mind. I do hold a doctorate in theology, you know.”Dad gave him a stiff smile. “Of course.”Both my parents held doctorates in psychology, but they never referred to themselves as doctors. They said that title should be reserved for people who could actually save lives, not just write a thesis.”

“I didn't avoid my problems. I just didn't feel as though I had to focus on them every minute of every day. And telling people about certain aspects of my life would only create trouble. If I was guilty of anything, it was of trying not to bring new problems into my life. That wasn't avoidance. That was logical thinking.”

“Who cares what other people think? Don't let the opinions of others define you.”