Chapter 41
It’s mid-December, I think. A frigid, cloudy, very bad day. I’m at the chicken coop, adding insulation for the ladies. Then I turn around and forget to breathe.
Old Caleb and Abel are walking up the driveway with two other men.
The two men have thick beards, like Old Caleb, and are dressed similarly to him, but are much younger. There it is: a flicker of recognition, followed by a clicking in my mind, a terrible flooding warmth.
I turn back to the thatched roof, heart pounding. My mind feels like an overheating hard drive. A computer with a broken fan. I stuff more hay into the gaps of the rafters, sneaking glances each time I reach down to grab another fistful from the bale.
Glimpse: they’re reaching the top of the hill.
Glimpse: they’re standing by the house, Old Caleb pointing at the stacks of freshly chopped wood.
Glimpse: they’re walking toward me.
I turn around and don’t look back. I feel, deep in my gut, the urge to let out a bloodcurdling scream. I want to run from them, and also to throw myself at them.
I bite down on my lip until my mouth tastes like a penny. The men walk past the coop without addressing me. Only one of them, the taller one, looks at me. His eyes linger on my face, his expression completely blank.
It feels like my brain is splitting in two.
If this was a test from the Lord: the tests are getting harder to withstand. If it wasn’t a test: I might have just missed my only chance at freedom.
I lean over and vomit the morning’s breakfast.