A thousand times I went to the kitchen window, Jacob trailing behind me.
“What are you looking for, Mumma?” Staring down at him, I clamped my teeth together. I didn’t want to say, couldn’t say. Speaking my fear might make it true. I couldn’t live with myself if something were to happen, especially if I were the one responsible.
Especially then.
Most especially then.
“Shhhh!” I whispered, holding my finger to my lips.
I glanced at the clock. Looked away. Looked back.
I walked across the kitchen floor, Jacob now tugging at the bottom of my dress. Pushing his hands away, I kept moving. The clock vibrated in my ears.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tock.
I went into the living room to get that incessant ticking out of my head and to escape Jacob’s question. Outside, there was shouting and laughter. I raced back to the kitchen window. Some children were coming down the hill—the Petersons—pushing and shoving one another along the road. I strained to see if Jewel was among them. She’d been told to avoid the Petersons like the plague. Yet I’d have been willing to let it pass if only I looked out and saw her there.
My heart sank.
I looked back at the clock. Fifteen minutes, now twenty.
I went over all the things that had happened that morning, searching for some clue as to why Jewel hadn’t come home yet. If I found the right thought, I might figure it out. I fixed her porridge for breakfast. She complained, as always. I sprinkled it with cake decorations. She smiled and dug right in. I was on cloud nine. But then Cliff came into the kitchen and told me I was irresponsible. “She’ll expect it every time now. Candy for breakfast,” he said, shaking his head. “She ends up with a toothache, it’ll be your fault, Lizabeth.” Jewel set her bowl in the dishpan and gulped the last of her milk. I helped her with her jacket and pulled a cap down over her head. I sent her out the door. Her lunchbox was in her hand. Everything was fine.
Perfectly fine.
Except for the tiny bits of red and green in the corner of her mouth from the hundreds and thousands I’d sprinkled on her oatmeal. I grabbed a washcloth and wiped it away. It was an ordinary day, as ordinary as plain white bread. But I should have known. Ordinary days lull you into a false security, lure you into a place where you let down your guard. Those ordinary days are to be feared more than any other. Before you know it, the dark prince sneaks up from behind, taking all that is ordinary and twisting it into something dark and menacing.
I glanced at the clock: 3:47. She should be home by now, long before now.
Again, I traced out the morning.
Each time I hoped the dark prince wasn’t waiting at the end of the story.
Each time he was.
Back and forth, forth and back.
From the kitchen to the living room.
Living room to the kitchen.
I sprinkled the oatmeal with cake decorations. There was a disapproving look on Cliff’s face. I wiped the corners of Jewel’s mouth. I helped her with her jacket. She walked away with her lunchbox. The only thing that had changed since the morning was the security I’d felt all day knowing she’d be home at 3:25. Now that was gone. The morning had started out as common as white bread, but the dark prince had taken my white-bread day and made it vanish. It was the only explanation that made any sense. Jewel had never been that late before. She was too young to have run away from home. The only place she would run off to would be Poppy’s. But there was no reason for her to go off to Poppy’s on her own.
I sprinkled the oatmeal with cake decorations. There was that disapproving look on Cliff’s face. I wiped the corners of Jewel’s mouth. I helped her with her jacket. She walked away with her lunchbox.
She might have cut through the woods.
There’s a path we sometimes take.
No. The path is behind our house, at the end of the hayfield, where it’s always been.
A wild animal jumped out and grabbed her.
No…no…no. I couldn’t let my mind rest on that thought.
I wiped down the counter, the table and chairs. Opening the cupboard door, I looked for soda, salt, and flour, taking note that the salt was running low. I opened the door above the sink. There was barely any cinnamon in the can, but the nutmeg and ginger were fine. I pulled the notebook out of the drawer and wrote cinnamon and salt on my grocery list.
I sprinkled the oatmeal with cake decorations. There was that disapproving look on Cliff’s face. I wiped the corners of Jewel’s mouth. I helped her with her jacket. She walked away with her lunchbox.
Jacob wouldn’t stop jabbering. He was standing behind me now, pulling on my dress again, interrupting my thoughts. His words ran together, overlapping each other like ocean waves, and I couldn’t pick them apart and make sense of them. His voice grew louder. I closed my eyes and stopped what I was doing, finally demanding to know what he wanted, why he was interrupting me when Jewel was late and there wasn’t enough cinnamon or salt in the house.
“A carrot, Mumma, can I have a carrot for Dusty?”
Reeling around, I grabbed him by the shoulders and stuck my face in close to his.
“There’s more to life than that pony of yours! Now, go, Jacob. Stay away from me!”
That stupid pony was all Jacob talked about. Dusty in the pasture. Dusty in the barn. Dusty needing her coat groomed. And could he have a carrot, or an apple, or a sugar cube, for Dusty?
Without another word, he vanished into the living room.
Where are you, Jewel? Where?
I paced the length of the kitchen, my heart hammering so hard that my head was spinning. The schoolhouse wasn’t far away. She’d never been this late before. Never this late. Never. Once, last month, she’d stayed behind looking for her boot, but she hadn’t been late enough for me to worry. She had always been so prompt.
Had—already I was thinking of her in the past.
This was no good.
I needed to stop, to think white-bread, ordinary thoughts again.
Oatmeal. Cake sprinkles. Cliff’s face. Jewel’s jacket. White bread. Thirty-five minutes.
The clock had an ugly smirk on its face, ticking a little louder and a little louder. Jacob was back in the kitchen saying something. I wasn’t sure what. Reaching for the clock, I wrapped my hands around its smirking face.
“Take that!” I shouted. Pieces scattered. The clock stopped ticking. Jacob scurried, howling like an injured pup.
The door flew open.
Like magic, Jewel was standing on the other side. My legs went to rubber.
I should have smashed the clock before, long before, if that was all it took to bring her home. Ripping the lunchbox from Jewel’s hands, I wanted to swing her around in the air and laugh for joy.
“Mumma, you broke the clock!”
“Forget the clock. It only makes fun. Where have you been?”
“Donalee’s. I was at Donalee’s to see the little brockle-face steer.” My heart dropped into my stomach. Anger erupted in me with volcanic force, flashing red molten lava. “You took my ordinary, plain-as-white-bread day and changed it into a nightmare to go to Donalee’s? I thought you’d been captured and no one would ever know. I carried my fear back and forth across the kitchen floor. You weren’t here. You were supposed to be here. The clock was screaming. I sprinkled your porridge with bright candy for breakfast on a plain, ordinary, white-bread day. Your father disapproved. I wiped your face. And you were at Donalee’s?”
“Mumma, don’t. You’re scaring me.”
“Scaring you? The you who didn’t think twice about worrying your own mother half to death because of some stupid steer standing in a pasture? I thought the dark prince had you.”
“Mumma, please. I won’t do it again.” Big tears wetted her cheeks.
Cliff barged though the door just then, taking up more space than usual. “I could hear you all the way from the end of the pasture!” Jewel ran to him, sobbing. He latched onto her, stroking her head. “What have you done, Lizabeth?”
Jacob scurried toward him, too. Three giant steps put Cliff at the cupboard, the floorboards rattling beneath the weight of his thumping feet. He opened the door and took out the little box of pills Dr. Scott had given him. “Did you forget to take one again?”
I knocked the box out of his hands. Tiny pills skidded across the floor. Jewel and Jacob ran to his side again. They stood together, the three of them, hanging fast to one another.
Ninnies.
Their side.
My side.
An invisible line separated us.
“Lizabeth! You’re acting crazy.” He said it so quietly I could barely hear his words.
Something crept into my body and turned me to stone. The gap between us expanded and I knew then that I was not supposed to be there. It wasn’t right. Everything was wrong—the look on their faces, the broken clock, the scattered pills—every bit of it was wrong. I had to get back my plain-white-bread day. I had to make the day feel right, calm, and ordinary again. I saw that the door was unguarded and raced toward it. Cliff grabbed for me, but I slipped from his grasp. The outdoors welcomed me with a song that stretched out across the horizon, filling me with an inner peace I’d never experienced before. Finally, I’d escaped from the enchanted castle, my burden gone. I could do as I pleased without Cliff’s constant watch over me. I rolled the thought around the tip of my tongue, eager then to take an even bigger bite. I was free. There was no stopping me. Taking in a deep breath, I welcomed the taste of freedom on my lips.