“Don’t know, but we’re prepping for the worst.”
The bad crops. The disappearances. The rumors.It made her uncomfortable—nervous—and itchy. It was the kind of itch that was always there, under her skin, but could only be felt when she focused on it. And once it caught her focus, it didn’t let go. Only time and distraction could cure it.
They zipped over the water, hovering enough to sail above the waves. She wished he hadn’t put the shield up, she could’ve used the wind to dry her hair.
“Willshebe there?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Mrs. Charlene.”
“I told you this isn’t a farmers’ meet. This is just us Montihans.”
“Who’re you expecting if not the other farmers?”
Rylie didn’t like surprises, especially when they came with people who weren’t kin or close friends. It made her feel awkward. Her ma blamed it on her lack of early socialization, but Rylie didn’t think socializing had anything to do with it.
“Could it have something to do with the developing colony in the south?” she had to ask. She would say anything to get him to open up enough to tell her what she was getting into.
“I have my thoughts, but I can’t find a connection.” He knocked his knuckles on the panel. “That colony has been around for seven years now and has only brought good into our lives.”
“What if the workers aren’t vanishing, but leaving?”
“They could be, but why blip off the radar in the middle of an agri-lot? With a tuggy boat nonetheless? It doesn’t make sense and those who have gone—”
“—have been here all their lives,” she finished for him.Like me.
“Men and women I’ve known for decades.” He wiped his thumb over his bottom lip in thought. “I don’t want my girls out and about,” his eyes scanned the ocean, “until I know it’s safe again.”
Rylie wanted to tell him that it had never been safe. That each day a life could end by a passing storm, an accident during the harvesting, or at the hands of a nomad or pirate, but she kept her mouth shut, knowing it would only make him stressed. He didn’t need another wrinkle added to the many already on his brow.
“It doesn’t matter if we have no reason to come out onto the water...” She thought of the cloudy stones she had collected today.
“Watch your tongue!”
She tightened her arms around her legs.
“You’ll see, Buggy, your mom’s preparing a nice dinner tonight,” ending the conversation.
She rested her chin on her knees and focused on the spindrift across the windows.
