Unraveled

Chapter 8

The summer sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the fields as Caleb and Isabelle raced through the tall grass, their laughter drifting on the warm breeze. For Caleb, these summers at his aunt and uncle's house were an escape from the bustling, confined streets of Manhattan where his parents remained year-round. He and Isabelle only saw each other during these long, sun-soaked months, but they always picked up as though no time had passed.

Caleb, a year younger and quicker on his feet, zigzagged across the yard, his grin wide as he called back to Isabelle, "You'll never catch me, Izzy!"

"Oh, just wait!" Isabelle shouted, her chestnut hair streaming behind her as she sprinted after him. She was usually the cautious one, but out here, away from the rigid routines of the school year, they both let loose. In the distance, the wide porch of her parents' house stood like a beacon, its worn wooden steps leading up to the place where their summer memories were etched year after year.

"You're getting slow!" Caleb teased, darting behind the old oak tree at the edge of the yard—the one where they had carved their initials the summer before.

Isabelle rolled her eyes, catching up with him, not even out of breath. "You're just lucky I let you win," she said, though the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. She loved these summers just as much as Caleb did.

From the house, the faint call of Isabelle's mother, Claire, drifted through the evening air. "Come on, you two! Dinner's ready!"

Caleb slowed, breathing hard but exhilarated. He glanced back at the house, where the familiar aroma of roasted chicken wafted from the kitchen. Isabelle's father, Jonathan, stood on the porch, drying his hands on a dish towel as he waited for them.

"Race you to the house?" Caleb offered with a grin, but Isabelle just laughed and shook her head.

"I'm not falling for that again," she said, though her smile softened as they fell into step, walking back together.

Inside, the warmth of Isabelle's family home wrapped around them, welcoming them like a familiar embrace. The table was already set, and the smell of freshly baked cookies—Claire's usual after-dinner treat—filled the air. Isabelle's mother greeted them with a knowing smile as they settled into their seats.

"You two are growing up too fast," Claire said, passing a dish to Jonathan. Her gaze lingered on Isabelle's hair, and she tilted her head in mock contemplation. "You know, Izzy, I think your hair's getting even redder. By next summer, you might be a full-blown redhead."

Isabelle's hand flew to her hair, a puzzled look crossing her face as she pulled a strand forward. "I don't think so," she replied, half-serious, half-teasing. "It's just the sun, Mom."

Claire chuckled and winked at Caleb. "We'll see about that."

The conversation moved on, filled with the usual summer banter—plans for the next day, jokes about their ongoing card-game rivalry, the warmth of family filling the spaces between words. As dinner stretched into the evening, a quiet settled over the house, the kind that only follows a day full of laughter and sunshine.

Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Caleb lay wide awake in the guest room. The familiar creaks of the old house, the steady hum of crickets outside, usually lulled him to sleep, but tonight felt different. He couldn't place it, but a subtle tension lingered in the air, keeping him restless.

A sudden ring pierced the silence, jolting him from the edge of sleep. He sat up, his heart racing as the sound cut through the quiet. In the hallway, he heard his uncle's low voice, then the hurried footsteps of his aunt. Their voices were hushed, urgent, as though they were trying not to wake anyone.

Caleb's stomach tightened with worry. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, creeping toward the door. Through a small crack, he caught the dim light from the hallway and the murmur of his aunt and uncle's voices. There was something in their tone that sent a chill through him.

Then came the soft creak of floorboards, making Caleb freeze. His aunt, Claire, appeared in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes red-rimmed. She hesitated, her gaze softening as it settled on Caleb.

"Caleb," she said gently, stepping into the room. "Honey... I'm so sorry."