Tested

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

No matter how much I hinted then outright begged, Dad wouldn’t hear of us staying any longer. The thought of leaving made me feel empty inside. Part of me thought of Samuel’s cottage as home.

“If you like him, you’ll give him a better chance of survival,” he told me harshly. “He’s going to be fine out here. But only if we leave.”

Samuel seemed deflated by our preparations. He tried to send some food with us, but Dad secretly replaced most of it. We couldn’t take too much, not when Samuel was going to be alone for who knew how long. He was so old. Who knew how long he had left? But at least he would die in the place he loved, surrounded by good memories and his witch’s luck.

“Are you sure we can’t stay?” I whispered.

“One foot in front of the other,” Dad said, and he gave me an unexpected hug. Purpose was the only thing that gave him hope, and I didn’t have the heart to try to take that away. Besides, our chances of escaping seemed good, maybe even great, and if help was coming, or if help had already arrived, then everything would change.

Before we left, Samuel pressed the book into my hands.

“It’s yours,” I said.

“You need to finish the story,” he said firmly. “Never leave anything unfinished, young lady. That’s my lesson to you.”

Smiling, I took the book and promised to return it when everything went back to normal.

He waved a hand. “Keep it. My gift to send you on your way. You never return a gift. It’s bad manners. Lesson number two.”

Laughing, I hugged him. Dad wasn’t watching, so he couldn’t give me a warning look. “Be careful,” I said. “If anything comes here—”

“I’ll beat them with my walking stick,” he finished with a grin. “Don’t go worrying about me. I’m not the one daft enough to run straight into the face of danger.”

“We’ll survive,” I said. “No giving up, right?”

“That’s the spirit.”

He reminded Dad about the landmarks we would pass, and then we were on our way.

With a clearer route and a dirt road to follow, keeping to the right path was easier. The dirt road eventually became a paved one, and finally we came to the bridge. We crossed it and found our way out of the moors and back onto dangerous ground that would lead us to the places we needed to go.

“Do you think help is coming?” I asked.

“If it does, it’ll go south first,” Dad said. “Might be too late for here if it ever comes this way. We could have to fight our way out. You understand that, right, Jess?”

“We should have stayed with him. We could have kept him safe.”

“You know why we didn’t.”

And there it was, that dismissive tone, the one that made Dad my boss rather than my father.

“You’re impossible sometimes,” I snapped.

“This is why we can’t stay in the one place. You’re ridiculous. You can’t just impose yourself on people and expect them to open their doors for you. He’s an old man. He doesn’t deserve the intrusion.”

“He was lonely!”

“He was fine.”

I fell silent. Dad and I needed a buffer between us, or else we butted heads constantly. I was so tired of it.