A Choice That Didn’t Follow Logic

“We’ll try—but inside, and carefully,” Nathaniel said at last. “And if anything feels wrong, we stop immediately.”

The boy nodded quickly.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Inside the house, Nathaniel’s wife, Caroline Mercer, was not as quick to agree.

“Nathaniel, he’s just a child,” she said, her voice low but firm. “We don’t know anything about him.”

The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn notebook.

“These are my grandmother’s notes. You can read them.”

Caroline flipped through the pages.

There were sketches of plants. Notes written carefully. Instructions that looked thoughtful, not careless.

It didn’t feel like something random.

It felt like something passed down.

“Where is your grandmother now?” she asked.

The boy’s expression softened.

“She passed away a few months ago. She asked me to keep helping people.”

Caroline hesitated.

Then nodded slowly.

“We’ll try—but I’m staying right here.”