Chapter Seventeen #2
“Her breathing is stronger,” Angela whispered, her voice hoarse but filled with quiet gratitude.
Thomas nodded, blinking back tears as Angela reached out and squeezed his arm.
“You stay with her,” Angela said. “I will fetch her some water and something to eat.”
She stood slowly, her legs stiff and unsteady, and stepped outside to stretch in the cool morning air. She rubbed her neck, wincing at the soreness from sitting in one position for too long.
“Morning.”
Angela turned to see James standing a few feet away, a tin mug of steaming coffee in one hand and a plate of breakfast in the other.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his hat cast a shadow over his face, but his sharp eyes softened slightly as he looked at her.
“Morning,” she replied, her voice still scratchy from lack of sleep.
James handed her the coffee and the plate, his movements careful but unassuming. “Figured you could use something to eat,” he said gruffly.
Angela took them gratefully, the warmth of the mug spreading through her chilled hands.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “But I said I would fetch Lucy something to eat or drink.”
“Rosie’s doing it,” James said. “And you have been up all night. You won’t be in any kind of position to help Lucy if you aren’t looking after yourself.”
Angela hesitated a moment before she nodded and then sat down on a nearby crate.
James sat down beside her, keeping a slight distance but close enough that his presence felt grounding.
As they ate, Angela stole a glance at him, noting the quiet steadiness in his demeanor.
She found his presence oddly comforting, even as a part of her bristled with unease.
She barely knew him, and yet he had been there in so many moments that mattered.
Protecting her during the storm. Finding Lucy.
Bringing her coffee now, as if he knew exactly what she needed.
But that same reliability made her wary. She couldn’t afford to depend on him—not when every connection felt like a potential loss waiting to happen.
“How’s Lucy?” James asked, breaking the silence.
“She’s better,” Angela replied, her voice softening as she thought of the little girl.
James nodded, his expression tightening briefly before he said, “You did good last night. Staying with her like that.”
A warmth rose in her chest, but she quickly looked down at her coffee, her fingers curling tightly around the mug.
“It was nothing,” she said quietly. “Thomas needed someone, and Lucy… she reminds me of my brother.”
James nodded, but he didn’t press her, and she was grateful for the silence that followed.
A short while later, as the camp fully woke and people began to prepare for the day’s journey, Rosie and Toby approached. Angela noticed their grim expressions immediately, and her stomach knotted.
“Morning, James,” Toby said, tipping his hat.
Rosie offered Angela a faint smile before turning her attention to James.
“We’ve got a problem,” Rosie said bluntly.
James set his coffee down, his eyes narrowing. “What kind of problem?”
“Missing items,” Toby said, his tone serious. “Rosie and I both noticed some things gone this morning. A pair of silver candlesticks I brought along, and my best knife. Rosie’s missing her brooch.”
Angela’s eyes widened as she glanced at Rosie. The other woman nodded, her jaw set tight.
“It was my mother’s,” she said. “I always keep it tucked in my sewing kit, but it’s gone. I looked everywhere.”
“It’s not just us,” Toby added. “A few other folks mentioned things missing too—small items, mostly, but valuable ones. Money, jewelry. Things they wouldn’t lose easily.”
James frowned, his face hardening. “Could’ve been the storm,” he said after a moment. “Dust like that can scatter things, bury them.”
“That’s what I thought at first,” Toby said. “But not everything could’ve just blown away. A knife doesn’t go missing in a storm. And Rosie’s brooch wouldn’t just disappear from a closed box.”
Angela watched James carefully as he listened. His expression remained calm, but she noticed a muscle in his jaw tense.
“What are you thinking?” Rosie asked, crossing her arms.
James stood, brushing the dust from his hands. “I’m thinking we don’t jump to conclusions,” he said evenly. “Not yet. Everyone’s on edge after the storm. Let’s give it a day or two—see if anything turns up before we start making accusations.”
Rosie opened her mouth to protest, but Toby placed a hand on her shoulder.
“All right,” he said, nodding reluctantly. “We’ll wait. But if more goes missing…”
James’s gaze darkened. “Then we’ll deal with it.”
As Rosie and Toby walked away, Angela looked up at James, studying his face. His calm, collected tone had done little to reassure her; the tension in his shoulders and the tightness around his mouth told a different story.
“Do you think someone’s stealing?” she asked quietly.
James didn’t answer right away. He picked up his coffee, taking a long sip before meeting her eyes.
“I think it’s too early to say,” he replied. “But I’ll be keeping an eye on things.”
Angela nodded, her unease growing. She thought of the missing items Thomas had mentioned days ago and the way the camp had rallied together to find Lucy. Trust was everything out here—without it, their survival would fall apart.
And now, that trust felt more fragile than ever.