Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I don’t want to worry Mrs. Shaw—especially because I’m not certain there’s anything to be worried about. Especially because I hope there’s nothing to be worried about.
“Everything is fine,” I say. “I just haven’t seen him this afternoon, and he’s not home. It’s just odd. That’s all.”
She takes off her glasses. “That is odd for Harvey. The children haven’t seen him?”
“No.”
“Huh.” She sets the glasses on the counter. “Well, he was in here just before lunchtime. I’d say around ten thirty or so. He seemed fine—just ornery like usual.”
I smile. That’s Dad.
“You know what?” she asks. “He did mention going berry picking today.”
My stomach sours.
“I only remember because he asked me if I’d be up for making him another cobbler this evening,” she says. “He promised to help me fry fish tomorrow night if I’d make him another dessert.”
I tap the counter. “That’s really helpful, Mrs. Shaw. Thank you.”
“Can I do anything to help find him?”
“No,” I say, walking backward toward the door. “Just have him check in with me or Lauren if he happens to come in, okay? I don’t care if he gets pissy. I’m pissy.”
She grins. “The apple doth not fall far from the tree.”
I stop at the doorway and look at her. Her smile grows as if she’s just bestowed the greatest compliment on me.
“The apple doth not fall far from the tree.”
I don’t know how I feel about that, but I’ll have to sort it out later.
Right after I give him a piece of my mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
LAUREN
Jack bursts through the door. “Hey.”
I whirl around, my heart in my throat.
I’ve paced the length of the kitchen since he tore out of here twenty minutes ago. Maddie’s been sitting quietly at the table, the puppy at her feet, watching me like I’m two steps away from snapping.
The kitchen is full of shadows from the early-evening sun. The majority of the rays are blocked by the lingering storm clouds from this afternoon. A chill ripples through the room from the breeze coming through the open front door.
“Jack . . .”
He sighs. “Dad’s not home, and no one has seen him. His truck’s gone too.”
“Where do you think he went?” I ask.
“Maybe he’s with Mrs. Shaw,” Maddie says.
He shakes his head. “I just talked to her. She hasn’t seen him since this morning.”
My heart drops to the floor.
Harvey doesn’t go missing. He doesn’t leave without one of us, usually, but definitely not without telling someone.
But our day has been chaos. Maybe he decided to stay out of it and go on with his day.
“Oh,” Maddie says, frowning.
Jack walks to the tiny closet by the door and takes out his boots. “Where would he have gone? Did he say anything to you, Mads?”
“No. Not specifically.”
“Maybe he drove to town,” I offer. “He might’ve been out of the cigars he doesn’t smoke.”
Jack slips on one boot and then the other. “I hope, Lo, but I don’t think so. His berry buckets are gone.”
My husband stands, facing me. The severity on his face—the somber lines etched across his forehead and around his mouth—kills me.
I forget my irritation with him. Would Harvey go into the forest on his own?
“What can we do?” I ask. “What are you going to do?”
“Maddie, can you go get Michael? Tell him I need him to come home now.”
She stands. “Do you know where he is?”
“I’m guessing with Ava.”
She nods. “I’ll go there first. If not, they’re probably at the lake.”
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Jack says as she scoots out the door.
Snaps raises his head and looks at us. Finding us uninteresting, he lays his head back between his front legs and closes his eyes. Lucky.
“What do you know that you’re not telling me?” I ask. “I feel like you’re keeping something from me.”
His chest rises, filling with oxygen, before he blows it out slowly.
I have no idea where this is going. And with the plethora of events that have happened today, it could very well be anything. That might be the worst part of it all—not knowing.
“Lo,” Jack says, sucking in a breath again. “Dad is sick.”
We knew Harvey was sick, but the way Jack says it puts it on another level. That makes it hard to breathe.
“I don’t know anything for sure,” he says carefully. “But we had a conversation this morning that leads me to believe that he might be worse off than I thought. So, the fact that he’s not here . . .”
My husband holds my gaze, his beautiful brown eyes cloudy.
I’m uncertain where Jack is going with this line of thought. Harvey is sick, so he’s not here because . . . why?
Does he think he went to the doctor? Did he go home? Did they get into an argument today, and Harvey said “Screw it” and took off under duress?
I cover my mouth with my hand and fight back a wash of tears.