Page 12 of Crimson Born

That made no sense. It musthavebeen a nightmare.

But wait—there, off to one side of the road... a black, wide-brimmed hat lay abandoned in a ditch.

Josiah’s hat.

Naturally, it wasn’t distinctive in any way. It could have blown off the head of any man from our community—or from any other Amish community for that matter. The whole point of our plain dress was tonotstand out, not draw attention to our outward appearances.

But I knew it was his.

And how did I knowthat?

Picking it up, I brought the brim to my nose and inhaled. Yes, I was right. Itsmelledlike him.

It was weird—I’d never even noticed how Josiah smelled before or whether he even had a particular scent at all, but now I realized he and every person I’d ever known had possessed their own distinctive essence.

The accidenthadhappened just as I remembered it. Both vehicles had been cleared, obviously. My friends had most likely been taken to the hospital. I must have been thrown too far from the scene for the rescue workers to notice me.

My parents had to be frantic with worry by now.

And then it occurred to me... what if Josiah and the others were injured so badly they hadn’t been able to speak? My parents might think I’d chosen to leave the bonfire with someone. They might not even realize I’d been in the buggy accident.

What if no one was even looking for me?

A sudden pain in my chest stole my breath, and I had to suppress the strong temptation to burst into tears.

Instead, I tightened my shoelaces again and started the long walk home.

By the time I reached our village, it was dark. I went directly to my family’s home, opening the door and stepping into the kitchen.

My father, three brothers, and two sisters were seated at the table for dinner. My mother was spooning some cooked beets onto my youngest brother Daniel’s plate.

All of them set their forks down and stared at me.

When Mamm looked up and saw me, she dropped the heavy cooking pot onto the tabletop, breaking Daniel’s plate in half. The sight and smell of the food turned my stomach.

I must have a concussion. Mamm will know what to do.

“Abigail. You’re home,” she said before darting a glance at my father.

He gave me a stern look but didn’t scold me for staying out all night or ask where I’d been or with whom.

“We worried for you. Come and sit and have dinner.”

“You’ll need a fresh bonnet first,” Mamm said, walking toward me. “Run up to your room and—”

Her words cut off abruptly as she reached me, and her eyes went wide. “What has happened to you?”

“I didn’t run off on some lark,” I explained. “I was in a car accident. Actually, I wasn’t in the car, I was in a buggy with Josiah and—”

She gripped my shoulder, turning me toward the gas lap that burned in a holder on the wall. “No, I mean youreyes. They’ve changed color.”

“What? That’s impossible.”

I pulled away from her and went quickly to the only mirror in the house—a small one attached to the inside of a kitchen cabinet door.

She was right.

My eyes, which had been green my entire life, like my father’s, looked... purple. It was a light purple, but it was distinctlynotgreen.

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