Crimson Born - Amy Patrick Page 0,9

I know that?

Picking it up, I brought the brim to my nose and inhaled. Yes, I was right. It smelled like him.

It was weird—I’d never even noticed how Josiah smelled before or whether he even had a particular scent at all, but now I realized he and every person I’d ever known had possessed their own distinctive essence.

The accident had happened just as I remembered it. Both vehicles had been cleared, obviously. My friends had most likely been taken to the hospital. I must have been thrown too far from the scene for the rescue workers to notice me.

My parents had to be frantic with worry by now.

And then it occurred to me... what if Josiah and the others were injured so badly they hadn’t been able to speak? My parents might think I’d chosen to leave the bonfire with someone. They might not even realize I’d been in the buggy accident.

What if no one was even looking for me?

A sudden pain in my chest stole my breath, and I had to suppress the strong temptation to burst into tears.

Instead, I tightened my shoelaces again and started the long walk home.

By the time I reached our village, it was dark. I went directly to my family’s home, opening the door and stepping into the kitchen.

My father, three brothers, and two sisters were seated at the table for dinner. My mother was spooning some cooked beets onto my youngest brother Daniel’s plate.

All of them set their forks down and stared at me.

When Mamm looked up and saw me, she dropped the heavy cooking pot onto the tabletop, breaking Daniel’s plate in half. The sight and smell of the food turned my stomach.

I must have a concussion. Mamm will know what to do.

“Abigail. You’re home,” she said before darting a glance at my father.

He gave me a stern look but didn’t scold me for staying out all night or ask where I’d been or with whom.

“We worried for you. Come and sit and have dinner.”

“You’ll need a fresh bonnet first,” Mamm said, walking toward me. “Run up to your room and—”

Her words cut off abruptly as she reached me, and her eyes went wide. “What has happened to you?”

“I didn’t run off on some lark,” I explained. “I was in a car accident. Actually, I wasn’t in the car, I was in a buggy with Josiah and—”

She gripped my shoulder, turning me toward the gas lap that burned in a holder on the wall. “No, I mean your eyes. They’ve changed color.”

“What? That’s impossible.”

I pulled away from her and went quickly to the only mirror in the house—a small one attached to the inside of a kitchen cabinet door.

She was right.

My eyes, which had been green my entire life, like my father’s, looked... purple. It was a light purple, but it was distinctly not green.

Trembling, I turned back to my mother. “How can this be?”

Rising from the table, my father came to my mother’s side, assuming a stance that was almost protective. Now he did ask about my night away from home.

“Who were you with last night Abigail?” he demanded. “What have you done?”

“What have I done?” I could hardly believe my ears. Why were they acting so strangely? Dad sounded accusatory and even a little afraid. “I just told you I was in an accident. It was terrible. I think Hannah and Aaron and Josiah might be badly injured. I thought I was, too, but—”

“Hannah and Aaron are dead,” Mamm said. “Josiah is in the hospital in critical condition.”

“We didn’t know you were with them in the buggy. We thought you might have... gone off on your own,” my father explained.

He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t hug me and say how happy he was that I’d somehow made it through the experience unscathed. He just continued to stare at my eyes with growing fear evident in his own.

“They’re dead?” I repeated.

My head spun, making me stagger a little. After a moment I thought to ask which hospital Josiah was in.

“Lancaster General,” my father said. “A police officer came to his parents’ house last night and brought them there to be with him.”

“I want to go see him.”

“You’ve only just gotten here,” Mamm protested. “You must eat something before you go.”

Again my stomach rolled with nausea. “No thank you, Mamm. I just want to go to the hospital.”

My father grabbed his hat from a peg on the wall. “I’ll take you. Noah, hitch up the horses and buggy.” To