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Caleb groggily opened his eyes as the rooster crowed, signaling once again another day of hard labor for so little in return. Caleb usually didn’t mind it. But today he needed to cut down the drying grass in the backfields for hay. To be honest, he would have taken any other job at Mr. Millis’s. He could tell he barely had any energy as it was, and wielding a heavy scythe sent a sense of dread coursing through him.
Granted, at the same time, he had no one to blame for his lack of energy. He barely ate, choosing to go days without eating, if it meant Philip could eat, most days he got enough food for one of them, he would much rather have Philip not go hungry. Philip pushed him to eat or share what Caleb had made him. But Caleb would refuse, and smile all the while, reassuring him he was okay. And like before, he hadn’t eaten anything, except for a few carrot peels and potato skins last night, barely anything that would be considered real sustenance.
Caleb sighed, finally sitting up. He shuffled out of bed and changed. As he looked in the mirror, he smiled, seeing Philip still sleeping peacefully. “I do it for you,” he whispered before leaving the room.
Caleb briskly walked to Mr. Millis’s farm, choosing to take the path through the woods he found, avoiding the town square entirely, which meant he wouldn’t have to worry about Mr. Mansell seeing him and questioning him about how he was doing, making sure he was taking care of himself as well. Caleb appreciated the concern Mr. Mansell had for him. But at the same time, it was a bit overbearing, and not to mention, he didn’t want word getting back to Minister Bastion that he was relying on Mr. Mansell; he already hated him enough as it was. He didn’t do one more thing for Bastion to use against him. Speaking of Bastion, taking the path in the woods meant he wouldn’t run into him as well, especially on the days when he didn’t bring Philip with him.
As Caleb approached the barn, he saw Mr. Millis emerge from it, and he smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Millis!”
“Good morning, Caleb.” Mr. Millis waved with a smile, but as he looked at Caleb, he didn’t look okay. He noticed his limbs were shaking, and he was swaying a bit. “Are you okay?”
“Im fine. Why?” Caleb asked.
“You seem like you can barely stand. Did you eat this morning?”
“Yes.” Caleb lied, “I had an apple, I’m fine, honestly.”
“Are you sure you’re up for harvesting the grass? I can find something else. I don’t need you passing out on me or getting sick. Mr. Mansell would have my head if anything happened to you.”
“What do you mean?” Caleb asked in surprise.
“Nothing. Forget I said anything. If you’re sure, then you can; you know where the scythe is.”
Caleb nodded and grabbed the scythe hanging by the barn door. As he took it off its hook, it felt much heavier than before. But he ignored it and made his way toward the field.
Caleb swung the scythe back and forth. The rhythm was slow, but he could tell his swings were uneven. He hoped Mr. Millis wouldn’t mind the unevenness of the grass. The Midday sun beat down on him, which never bothered him until now. He felt his legs grow heavier. He could feel the sweat soaked through his shirt, clinging to his skin, and most concerning, his vision would blur more than once. Still, he pushed on; he was fine. He had to be; there is no such thing as being ‘not fine.’
From the edge of the field, Mr. Millis watched and sighed, seeing Caleb struggling. He appreciated the hard work and effort Caleb put in; despite being sick, tired, or injured, he worked without complaint. Yet after a few more minutes, Mr. Millis frowned and stepped toward him. He didn’t like the feeling in his stomach. “Caleb,” he called out, “stop for a minute.”
Caleb didn’t hear him at first, too focused on keeping the blade moving.
“Damn it, child.” Mr. Millis whispered under his breath and touched his shoulder,
Caleb jumped and flinched before dropping the scythe and quickly turning to see Mr. Millis standing there.
“Mr. Millis?”
“Caleb, sit down, please. You’re pale as a ghost.” Mr. Millis commented.
“I’m fine,” Caleb mumbled, swaying slightly.
“You’re not,” Mr. Millis said firmly. “Go home, Caleb, eat some food, and rest. You can send Philip to pick up your payment.”
Caleb tried to argue, but the words stuck in his throat for some reason. With a small nod, and began the slow walk down the narrow path toward the woods.
The path through the woods was cool compared to the fields, and Caleb was enjoying it slightly. The quietness was calming, too calming, but he ignored it. As he walked, his steps became slower. “I’m fine…” he felt each breath become more labored than the last. “I’m fine,” he kept repeating, but as he repeated those words, his head throbbed relentlessly, and his stomach twisted with emptiness; this was something he had never felt before, but he ignored it. He was almost home. He heard a bird call somewhere above, but it sounded far away. Then, the world tilted, and everything went black.
Meanwhile, in town, Mr. Mansell stepped outside his house to take in some fresh air and visit Bastion in the church, like he did every day. Even though he and Bastion were not the closest anymore, he still felt the need to see him at the church practically every evening, as he had for the past fifteen years. Yet when he looked across from his house, he saw Philip walking, yet there was no Caleb with him, which was odd. So he called out, “Philip?!”
Philip stopped when he heard his name being called, and he did his best not to scowl. Instead, he faked a smile. “Good Evening, Mr. Mansell.”
“Where’s Caleb? Is he okay?”
Philip looked up, a bit annoyed that he was asking about Caleb again. But Philip just shrugged. “I don’t know; He hasn’t come home. I was just heading to Mr. Millis’s to get him. I know he can get carried away, but he promised we would watch the sunset. And it’s almost dark.”
Mr. Mansell’s jaw tightened. “He’s not home?”
“No?”
Mr. Mansell felt his heart skip a beat; something in his gut was telling him something was wrong. And he didn’t waste another second. He turned on his heel and made straight for Mr. Millis’s farm.
“Mr. Mlllis?!” Mr. Mansell called out, approaching the barn with Philip close behind.
Mr. Millis stepped out of the barn, wiping his hands on a rag. He looked up to see Mr. Mansell and noticed the worried look on his face. “Mr. Mansell? What are you doing here? Is everything alright with Caleb?”
“What do you mean, is everything alright with Caleb? He isn’t here!?!” Mr. Mansell exclaimed worriedly.
Mr. Millis blinked, shocked by Mr. Mansell’s tone. He had never heard Mr. Mansell raise a tone like that in all the years he had known him. He knew he cared for the brothers, especially Caleb, but he didn’t think he cared that much about him. “He never made it home? I sent him home a few hours ago.”
“What?...” Mr. Mansell whispered, feeling a pool of dread form in his stomach.
“Yeah, he wasn’t looking too well. He wasn’t sick, but he was shaking and seemed to be struggling to keep himself upright. So I sent him home so he wouldn’t hurt himself.”
Mr. Mansell had a suspicion: What was wrong with him? He couldn’t lie; he was mad that Caleb was neglecting his health again. Mr. Mansell exhaled, doing his best to keep calm. He looked at Philip and asked.
“Philip, when was the last time Caleb ate? Be honest with me,”
“He ate a couple of days ago or so. I keep telling him he should eat, but he says he’s fine.” Philip answered honestly.
“Shit!” Mr. Mansell cursed internally before following up. “Which way does he go home?” He watched as Philip smiled, yet he could tell there was something behind it.
“Oh, he found a pathway through the woods over there,” Philip responded, pointing to a break in the fence. “He has been going that way to avoid you and Minister Bastion.”
“Avoid me?”
“He doesn’t want you worrying about him or questioning him. So he has been taking that way to avoid you.” Philip answered honestly.
Mr. Mansell didn’t know how to feel hearing those words. He felt hurt; he knew Caleb didn’t want anyone worrying about him, or more like, he couldn’t allow anyone to care or worry about him because of what Bastion would say. Though he could see Caleb’s point of view, seeing how much his former friend found the smallest of things, to dig his talons into to like a hawk to an unsuspected rabbit.
Mr. Mansell exhaled. He would talk to Caleb about this later, but for now, what was important was finding his child. “Philip, wait for me back at my palace, okay? Im going to find him.”
Philip didn’t say anything and just nodded, heading toward Mr. Mansell’s house.
Mr. Mansell sighed and ran toward the path that Philip had pointed out, praying he could find caleb, and he would be okay.
The woods had grown dim with the sinking sun as Mr. Mansell ran as fast as his legs could carry him down the path, “Caleb!... Caleb!” He called out, hoping he would hear something back. But all he met was with silence, and the trees' shadows began to grow larger; he needed to find Caleb before nightfall. As he continued to run, he eventually saw something or someone lying in the pathway. His eyes went wide as he skidded to a stop before getting down on his knees next to the figure, and the moment he looked down, he recognized the blonde forelock and immediately knew it was Caleb. “Caleb?” he questioned, shaking him, yet he was out cold. He pressed his fingers to his neck; he could feel a pulse beneath them.
“Thank God you’re alive,” he whispered as he hoisted Caleb onto his back, his heart breaking at how light he was. He didn’t have time to think about that now; he needed to get Caleb back, so he began the trek back toward town.
By the time he reached the edge of town, lamps had begun to flicker in the windows, casting warm glows on the streets. As he approached the main square, he saw the all-too-familiar figure emerge from the church. He exhaled sharply. Usually, he didn’t mind seeing him; honestly, despite everything, a small part of him still enjoyed seeing him. But this was one of the rare occasions he didn’t. But as fate would have it, their eyes met.
Minister Bastion looked at Mr. Mansell, and when he saw who he was carrying on his back, he let out a dark chuckle and smirked. “Well, isn’t this interesting? I was wondering what you were up to when you didn’t show up at the church this evening. But I didn’t expect to see you carrying Wittebane like a sack of grain on your back would be the reason.”
Mr. Mansell lowered his eyes and scowled at him. “I do not have time right now for this Bastion,” he hissed, continuing to walk.
“Hmph. Should have expected it,” Bastion stated, “A weak spirit in a weak body. Perhaps this is the Lord’s judgment proving my point.”
Mr. Mansell stopped, turned to face him, and growled. “Even now, you have to find something about him to comment on. God above Richard, he’s passed out from pushing himself too far, without food.”
“You are just proving my point, he is unfit to raise Philip, if he can barely provide for himself. I know you have a soft spot for the wretch for some god forsaken reason. But you are coddling him too much.”
“I don’t care what you think, Bastion. I care about Caleb. He is still a child, Richard, and by God, if my child is hurting or starving himself, I am going to look out for him. Now, if you excuse me, I must be off.” He said, walking past Bastion without another word.
As they returned to his house, he saw Philip waiting on the porch, and his eyes went wide when he saw him carrying Caleb.
“Caleb?! Is he alright!” Philip asked, panicking.
Mr. Mansell stopped and smiled. “He is, he’s just passed out from not eating, that’s all,” he responded and continued inside,
When he got to his room, he lay Caleb gently down on the bed, brushing the forelock out of his face, and whispered, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you; you have to look out for yourself as well.” As he was about to leave, he heard Caleb grunt and shift, slowly opening his eyes.
M… Mr. Mansell?” Caleb whispered as he tried to sit up, but was immediately struck by a sharp, blinding pain in his head. He let out a soft groan and fell back against the pillow.
“Don’t try to move,” Mr. Mansell said gently. “Just rest. You’ve no strength for sitting up yet.”
Caleb blinked slowly, still disoriented.
“I found you passed out on the forest trail; you have been taking,” Mr. Mansell continued. He already knew the answer to the question, but he wanted to see if Caleb would be honest. “You’ve not been eating, have you?”
Caleb didn’t say anything; he looked away, shame creeping into his pale features.
“I thought as much,” Mr. Mansell commented, rising to his feet. “I’m going to bring you some broth. Nothing heavy. I don’t want you falling ill because your stomach can’t handle food. You need to eat, Caleb.”
“I…”
“No excuses. We’ll speak about it later. For now, you must eat.”
Caleb watched him leave, and he growled. He stared at the fire crackling low in the hearth, dreading both eating and the talk he was about to have.
When Mr. Mansell returned, he carried a steaming bowl of thin broth and a wooden spoon. Carefully, he helped Caleb sit up. “Slowly,” he murmured. “Here.”
Caleb stared at the bowl Mr. Mansell was offering him. Caleb took it, and after exhaling, he took a hesitant sip. The warmth hit his stomach like a spark. Then another. He hadn’t realized how hollow he’d felt or how deep the hunger had gone until it began to ease.
Mr. Mansell watched in silence until the bowl was nearly empty before speaking. “I spoke with Philip,” he said at last, voice measured. “He told me you took the path through the woods on purpose. Said you were avoiding me.”
Caleb didn’t answer at first. He stared at the bowl, running his finger along the rim of it.
“Why would you do that?” Mr. Mansell asked sadly. “Why not let me help you?”
“…Because you shouldn’t have to.”
“Shouldn’t?” Mr. Mansell echoed.
Caleb’s voice dropped. “I don’t deserve it. I’ve never deserved it. And if you care about me… Bastion will only use that against you. He hates me… and I can’t bear to watch him turn you against me too, or for him to turn against you…”
Mr. Mansell felt his heartbreak again at Caleb’s confession, doing his best to hold back the tears he wanted to let fall. He also felt a dagger be stabbed into his heart, that Bastion had made Caleb feel such a way. His thoughts were broken when he heard Caleb speak flatly.
“Im sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
Mr. Mansell sighed deeply, looking at the hearth before speaking. “I do not care what Bastion says… he lost the right to speak into my life or about me a long time ago…”
Caleb looked up, startled, noticing Mr. Mansell’s expression.
Mr. Mansell closed his eyes and centered himself before turning to look back at caleb and smiling. “You may not be my son by blood. But you are my son in every way that counts. And nothing Bastion says will change that. I care for you because you are worth caring for. Do you understand?”
Caleb opened his mouth and closed it again. He wanted to say something, yet he couldn’t find the words, and that scared him. Was Mr. Mansell right? Was he actually worth something?
Mr. Mansell noticed Caleb’s expression and stood up. “You don’t have to say anything now,” he whispered, taking the empty bowl from his hands. “You just rest.”
He picked up a blanket and gently laid it over Caleb, watching as he settled back against the pillow with heavy eyes, closed his eyes, and drifted into a peaceful and restful sleep.
Mr. Mansell stayed a moment longer and whispered, “I mean it. You may not feel like you’re worth it, but I do… I just pray that you one day will see and feel it too.” He gently kissed him on his forehead before turning around and leaving Caleb to sleep.