Caleb's Story by Patricia MacLachlan

1
    â€œC ome find me, Caleb!” called my little sister, Cassie.
    She ran out the door and down the steps. Lottie barked and followed her. Nick was older than Lottie. He stayed on the porch and watched.
    â€œI don’t have time. I mean it, Cassie!”
    Cassie ignored me the way she always did when she wanted something.
    â€œAnd don’t look!” she called.
    I sighed and walked after her. I covered my eyes with my hand, but through my fingers I could see Cassie run to the barn.
    â€œOne, two, three,” I counted.
    â€œSlower,” she cried.
    â€œFour . . . five . . . five and a half.”
    Papa was hitching Bess to the wagon.
    â€œDon’t be long,” he said. “Anna’s almost ready to leave.”
    â€œDon’t worry. This won’t take long, Papa.”
    â€œI don’t know, Caleb. Cassie’s getting better at hiding.”
    I laughed.
    â€œAt least you don’t see her feet sticking out anymore. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten,” I called.
    I could hear Cassie laughing, but I couldn’t see her. I walked into the barn. It was cool and dark and quiet. A winter sharp smell filled the space.
    â€œCassie?”
    There was no answer. There was a time when Cassie would answer me and give away her hiding place—she couldn’t help it. Not today.
    May, my favorite of all our horses, was in her stall. I reached over and touched her nose, and she nickered at me. I could see her breath in the cold air. There was silence, the only sound the sound of May’s breathing. Then I heard Lottie’s bark outside, and Cassie’s voice.
    â€œCassie? I hear you!”
    I turned. Cassie tried to run by the barn door, and I rushed out and caught her, making her squeal.
    â€œI’ve got you, Pal!”
    Cassie laughed and we began to walk back to the house, Lottie leaping and jumping in front of us. Cassie reached up and took my hand, her face suddenly serious.
    â€œThere’s a man.”
    â€œWhat man?”
    â€œBehind the barn,” said Cassie. “He’s wrapped in a green blanket. He asked me about Papa.”
    I smiled.
    â€œYou and your imaginary friends, Cassie.”
    She scowled at me.
    â€œThere’s a man,” she insisted.
    â€œYou’re stubborn,” I told her. “Like Sarah.”
    â€œLike Mama,” Cassie corrected me. “You could call her Mama.”
    â€œI could,” I said. “But you know the story, Cassie. When she first came here Anna and I called her Sarah. We will always call her Sarah.”
    â€œI will call her Mama,” said Cassie.
    I picked her up—she was so light—and Cassie put her head on my shoulder as we walked to the house.
    â€œA man,” she whispered in my ear.
    Â 
    â€œDo you have everything, Anna?”
    Sarah wrapped biscuits in a towel.
    â€œGive these to Sam.”
    Papa looked over Sarah’s shoulder.
    â€œSome,” he said. “Not all.”
    Sarah smiled.
    â€œPapa never gets enough biscuits,” said Anna.
    Anna tied up some letters with a long ribbon. Min, our orange cat, leaped up, trying to catch the ends. Her mother, Seal, slept in a basket by the fire, opening her eyes every so often to check on all of us.
    â€œJustin’s letters?” asked Sarah.
    Anna nodded.
    â€œI read them over and over,” she said softly. “Sometimes I feel he’s standing next to me.”
    Everyone was quiet. I used to tease Anna about her boyfriend, Justin. I called him Just-In-Time. But not anymore. Justin had gone to Europe to fight in the war. And no one teased Anna now. I think she worked for Doctor Sam because Justin was his son. It made her feel closer to Justin.
    â€œLetters,” said Papa, his voice low.
    â€œYou were the masters of letter writing, you and Sarah,” said Anna.
    â€œWhat does that mean?” asked Cassie.
    â€œIt means that they wrote letters to each other before they loved each other,”