Page 10 of Bittersweet & Strange

My mind refuses to make sense of what I’m seeing. Surely he’s tending to the horse. Maybe he’s gathering supplies from the shed. Maybe he’s already inside and I somehow failed to notice him. My eyes move from one side of the cottage to the other, searching for movement.

There isn’t any.

The carriage sits exactly where it shouldn’t.

Bramble paws impatiently at the ground and my father is nowhere in sight.

I don’t remember crossing the room.

One second, I’m standing beside the window. The next, I’m pulling my boots over thick wool socks with fingers that don’t seem to work properly. My heart beats hard enough that I can feel it in my throat. I yank open the front door, and the cold steals my breath.

“Bramble?”

The chestnut horse lifts his head.

I hurry toward him, my boots sinking into the damp ground. A thousand possibilities race through my mind.

“Where’s Dad?”

My voice sounds strange. Strained in a way I barely recognize.

I hurry around the carriage and pull back the canvas covering the rear compartment, expecting to find him sitting inside after deciding to rest before coming into the cottage.

There’s nothing there.

The space is empty.

I check again.

My fingers catch the edge of the canvas as I pull it back farther. I search every inch of the wagon for an entire person I’m somehow convinced I’ve overlooked.

It’s ridiculous.

I know it is.

I knew what I was going to find before I looked.

Nothing.

Because he’s not there.

Fear tightens my chest.

“No.” I circle the carriage. “No, no, no.”

The words tumble out as I search the other side of the wagon, irrationally hoping the outcome might change if I keep moving.

My hands begin to shake.

The seed planter is here. The blankets I’d helped him pack are neatly folded but damp. The tools he’d insisted on bringing are scattered throughout the carriage, but they’re all accounted for. Everything else he took to the fair is here.

I stand beside the carriage, trying to make sense of something that refuses to make sense.

Maybe he stopped in the village. Maybe someone recognized him and convinced him to spend the night. Maybe a wheel broke. Maybe the carriage became stuck somewhere along the road.

Maybe—

My stomach turns. I steady myself against the wagon.