The Search for Will

Chapter 4

     He kept expecting something to happen. A hand to fall on his shoulder. For him to turn around and see his Dad. For his dad to tell him everything was okay. That he was still there for Cole. But that comforting hand never came.

     It was past noon now, and Cole grew hungry. He had to stop crying. He tried to pull himself together. He was still hiccuping with tears, but his eyes were rubbed raw from wiping them away so much and he didn't bother to do it once more. He went inside and into the kitchen. From behind the counter he looked up and saw Will's crib. Will's empty crib. 

     But it didn't trigger a reaction. He just stood there, unmoving, and stared into it. His eyes blurred. The crib became a mass of light wood. The crib was empty, just like Cole's stomach. Cole felt nothing. Nothing but a dull headache and a knot in his throat. He came out from behind the counter and sat on the small bench in the livingroom.

     He looked in despair at the ground. There was a rug there, from a deer his father had killed. Cole remembered that day. Daniel had come home carrying it like it was wounded, holding up it's head and turning it to look at Cole, as if the deer were alive still. Cole laughed at his father's joke. Then his dad let the head slump and he showed Cole how to skin a deer. He let Cole skin one of the thighs, and keep it for a water canteen. He still had it. He looked up from the bench and saw the canteen hanging from a hook near the front door. Cole was mildly surprised to find he didn't have to walk inside from the back porch from skinning the deer to look at it. He was already inside. He had just been day dreaming.

     Cole closed his eyes and leaned his head back. A tear slipped down his cheek and he was glad for it. It felt cool on his raw skin and for a moment provided comfort from the burning sensation there. Then the water dried and the salt was left behind. His cheeks grew warm once more. Cole was so tired. He had not gotten a good sleep last night, and he was still saddle sore from riding Maria's horse. His neck didn't seem to be up to the task of holding his head up, nor his eyes to the task of staying open. He slumped over on the bench and fell asleep once more.

     When he awoke, nothing had changed. He heaved a great sigh. What a terrible day. Stop moping. Feed yourself. Fine, he thought. He would feed himself. There seemed to be a part of his mind that always bossed the rest around, knowing the right thing to do. Now it told him to eat, and he would eat. He wanted to feel tired from the small nap he took, but truthfully, it had revived him. He drank some water from the spout outside and looked around for some food. There was none inside.

     He smiled as he thought of the garden. Cole loved the garden. Things grew there, and it was satisfying to find life that Cole knew he had helped sustain. He walked around the house and through the rows of small carrots. Nothing in the garden was quite ready for harvest but the radishes, but Cole decided he would have a small carrot anyway.

     He plucked the biggest one he could find, which was about the length of his middle finger. Big enough. Then he went to the radishes and got a medium sized one. It was a pink color with purple on top. He collected several more over ripe or under ripe fruits and vegetables, and ate the meager dinner. The plum was especially sour.

     What a drab life. A part inside of him said. I need to find something yummy. He did his dishes and a thought struck him. He looked up at the door as is some one had just walked in. Maria! I'll go visit her at the inn! She'll know what to do!

     But by the time he got there, she was already gone.