The Storm You Chase - Sable Hunter Page 0,1

shoulders. “I hate it when they fight.”

“I know. We all do,” Rowan assured his little sister.

“Dad is never happy. No matter what we do.” Clint bowed his head, closed his eyes, and tried to think of something else. The racket of their parents arguing became a distant, dull roar. Suddenly, another sound ripped through the air. Thunder rolled and a blast of lightning shook the windows in the house.

“Mama!” Colleen squealed.

“It’s all right.” Clint took his little sister’s hand. “It’s just a storm.”

“I know, but it’s been raining every day. We can’t even go outside.”

“I know. I haven’t been able to play football either. Spring is the time of year when we have the most storms,” Clint explained as the rain fell harder. “I think it has to do with atmospheric thermal instability.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Weatherman.” He loved to pick at his little brother for his obsession with the Weather Channel and whatever weather websites Clint frequented online.

“You’re welcome.” Not taking offense, Clint hugged his little sister. “At least the noise of the storm drowns out our parents fighting.”

“Yea.” Colleen wiped her face where a few tears glistened on her rosy cheeks.

BAM!

All three children jumped when they heard a door slam upstairs. Moments later, heavy footsteps sounded as their father came down the stairs with a suitcase in hand. “Move kids. I gotta go.”

“Don’t go, Daddy!” Colleen sprang up to wrap her arms around Saul’s knees.

Rowan rose to move to one side out of his father’s path. “Why, Daddy? I thought you didn’t have to fly back to Alaska for a couple of weeks.”

“Yea. Why, Daddy?” Clint echoed. “What about Memorial Day? We’re going to the lake.”

Their father frowned, then knelt down to give each of the children a kiss on top of their head. “Sorry. I need to leave earlier than I planned. Take care of your Mama.” He patted Rowan and Clint on their shoulders as he rose to continue down the stairs. With no further explanation, he slammed out of the front door, leaving three of his six children staring after him. In the next few seconds, they could hear a chorus of crying coming from above. “The little ones are awake,” Rowan started up the stairs. “Come help me, Clint. Mama will need us.”

“I’ll come too.” Colleen grabbed onto Clint’s shirt as she followed her brothers up the stairs. “Why did Daddy have to go away?”

“I don’t know. He and Mama were having a disagreeable,” Clint muttered.

“A disagreement, not a disagreeable,” Rowan corrected him, then answered his sister. “Money. They always fight about money.”

“Why come?” Colleen asked in her odd little way as they neared the top of the stairs.

“Because there’s six of us kids and everything costs money.”

Rowan’s explanation caused Colleen to wrinkle her face. “There’s too many of us? Let’s send Bethany back. She cries too much anyway.”

“Nobody’s being sent back,” Clint stated as he ran toward his mother who was standing at the top of the stairs holding their other sister Cassidy. “Isn’t that right, Mama? We can all stay. Each one of us is important.”

Gillian Wilder released the wiggling toddler to Rowan’s waiting arms. “Absolutely, Clint.” She pulled the young boy close. “No one’s going anywhere. Don’t worry. Your daddy will be back soon. He didn’t mean those things he said. He’s just been under lots of pressure lately.”

“I don’t like it when you argue.” He hugged his mother around her waist. Clint was afraid he and his siblings were the problem. “Did we do something wrong?”

“No. Never. And we weren’t really arguing. We were discussing things loudly.” She took him by the hand, reaching out to Colleen with the other. “Come on. Let’s gather everyone together. I’ll read the little ones a story while we wait for your father to return.”

Only he didn’t return. Not that day and not the day after.

One day bled into the next. Neither of them owned a cell phone, so Gillian was at a loss as to how to get ahold of her husband. Their Memorial Day plans fell through. With Saul gone, she didn’t feel like taking the children to the lake. Instead, they picnicked at an abandoned limestone quarry just down the road from the subdivision where they lived. Gillian made sandwiches and packed them in a paper sack, then led her little brood down the road, everyone holding hands. At the quarry, the children ran up and down the piles of rocks, playing hide and seek among the boulders

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