Night blanketed the little farm, a scattering of stars twinkling brightly around the moon, which was just a small sliver in the dark sky. The white, two-story farmhouse stood on a hill amidst a clump of oaks and maples, their leaves fluttering in the breeze. Owls hooted occasionally in the darkness, while ten horses stirred in their sleep. The house was dark except for a few lights that shone through the downstairs windows. Inside, there was a small woodstove, which stood in the corner of the living room, facing an old, brown couch and a cushiony leather chair. A desk sat in the corner next to the woodstove, with the family computer sitting in its own little nook. The kitchen and dining room share the entire back of the house. A long, Amish-made table took up most of the space in the dining room, while the kitchen had a marble island in the middle of the floor and long counters to match. Upstairs were three large bedrooms where everyone was sound asleep. Everyone, that is, except the parents, who were downstairs in the hallway. They were trying to keep their voices down so as not to wake their two daughters, but their loud whispers drifted up the stairs, breaking the silence.
Emma woke with a start. A large, stuffed, brown teddy bear fell from her bed as she glanced swiftly around the room. She squinted into the darkness and noticed that nothing seemed to have changed since she went to bed earlier that night. Her faded blue dollhouse stood quietly in the far corner, her basket full of old dolls she never played with sitting beside it on the floor. Pictures and paintings of horses covered her walls and several small trophies stood proudly on the shelf by her door, glinting in the moonlight. A scuffed riding helmet hung on the end of her bed where she had tossed it last night and her Bible lay open on her night table.
Being 13-years-old, she wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore, yet, she had a funny feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Her long, chestnut-colored hair hung down her back in a tangled mess as she strained to hear what had startled her from her sleep. Leaning farther and farther over the end of her bed, struggling to catch any unusual sounds in the quiet house, Emma’s grip suddenly slipped and she tumbled head over heels onto the carpeted floor. She winced as her small, golden cross necklace dug into her neck.
As she picked herself up and straightened her over-sized T-shirt that she wore, Emma crept to the door. Cracking it open and peering out, she noticed a light on downstairs. Just as she was about to step out of her room to investigate, the sound of her parents talking in hushed voices made her instinctively shrink back into her room. Slowly inching from behind her door, Emma tiptoed to the banister and crouched at the top of the stairs. She held her breath when she saw her parents in the entryway below, facing each other. Her dad was a tall, well-built man with a mop of curly brown hair that always looked wind-blown. Her mom, on the other hand, only came up to his shoulder and had long, curly blonde hair, which she tied back in a single braid. Emma had always known her parents had a strong relationship in the way that they openly showed their affection for each other in a simple kiss or a hug. Yet, just the week before, she had come in from feeding the horses and was picking at the knots in her work boots when she overheard her parents talking in the kitchen. She had peeked around the corner and only their silhouettes were visible in the darkened room. Words like “debt” “losing money” and “have to sell” made Emma realized that this was a conversation she should not be listening to and she quickly whirled around and ran upstairs.
Now, crouching at the top of the stairs, Emma’s mind wandered back to that conversation in the kitchen. She bit her lip as her dad shook his head in reply to something her mom said, took his denim jacket from the coat rack, and walked out the door, shutting it firmly behind him. Sighing, her mom turned and disappeared down the hallway to the kitchen.
“What’s going on?”
Emma turned and saw Sophia, her eight-year-old sister, standing in the hallway, wearing a similar oversized T-shirt and rubbing her bleary eyes. Her tangled blonde curls hung haphazardly down her back as she knelt beside Emma.
“It’s nothing,” Emma said, smiling unconvincingly. “Go back to bed, Sophia.”
Sophia shook her head. “You’re a horrible liar. I heard the door slam.”
Emma sighed, knowing her sister could read her face like a book, “I think Dad just went outside to check on the horses. If anything was wrong, they would tell us… right?” she said, as if she was trying to convince herself as well as her sister.
“Yeah, I guess,” Sophia yawned and arched her back like a cat. “Why did Dad make us stay out so long training this afternoon? There’s no way we’re gonna be ready for the rodeo this weekend. My legs hurt, my arms are killing me, and I’m tired.”
Emma smiled and tousled her sister’s hair, “Oh, quit your whining.” Sophia stuck out her tongue and ducked out from under her sister’s hand.
“Stop it…”
Just then their mom walked back into view. Emma raised her finger to her lips and both girls watched as she open the front door. Stepping out on the front porch, she stood there for a few minutes peering out into the night toward the barn.
Sophia’s cocked her head and looked at her sister with quizzical blue eyes, “So, where did you say Dad went again?”
“I really don’t know,” Emma said. She yawned really big. “I’m sure he’ll be back later tonight or in the morning.” She stood up, pulling her sister to her feet. “Come on, let’s go back to bed. You can sleep with me if you want to.” Sophia nodded, a yawn taking over her ability to speak. Both girls tiptoed back to Emma’s room and crawled under the covers. Sophia curled up on her side, as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible. Emma snuggled close to her sister and put her arm around her. It didn’t take long before both girls were fast asleep.
(To be continued…)
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