Hello again! I apologize with all my heart for my unexpected hiatus, I've just been so busy and hadn't had the time to continue this story, unfortunately :( Thanks so very much for all the kind reviews you all sent me, they go truly appreciated and taken to heart. Again, thank you guys so much, you're all so kind.

It has also been brought to my attention that the age calculations are a bit off (okay, VERY off haha) and I sincerely apologize for any and all inaccuracies and mistakes! Don't hesitate to drop me a line if you notice any discrepancies within my work, hopefully they are minor enough to be swept under the carpet until I can figure them out ^^; Thanks so much you guys, and enjoy! Xx

It had been but one week after my father left. One whole week. Seven days I woke to the awaiting sun alone, seven days I lay down in my tear-stained pillows without his reassuring presence. If my father wrote to me (I'm sure he did– the man never went two days without writing a letter, whether it be a note or a message or even a mere musing) I hadn't received it. A small part of my mind knew that the mail must have just been late because of the ceaseless rain the past three days, but a whole other part of me was anxious for word from my father. Did he make it safely? What were the extent of his complications? It was a never-ending cycle of worry and torment, waiting outside in the grass for the mail to arrive. Detached, isolated, and unfeeling.

I felt hollow, and I felt alone.

"Darcy?"

I looked up from my dinner plate, alarmed. "Yes?"

My mother's imploring eyes searched my face briefly. I swallowed nervously and touched my immaculate napkin to the corner of my mouth, trying to give my hands any task that would keep them busy. Finally, my mother spoke.

"How are you feeling?"

I pursed my lips and cleared my throat. The air suddenly felt try and too warm for my taste. I glanced at the clock near the door, just to distract my gaze.

"I'm doing well."

There was a silence that followed that made me uncomfortable. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to my mother, or that I didn't enjoy our chats– I just knew where this conversation was heading.

She nodded and moved aside some food on her plate. There was an absence present at the table that I wasn't familiar with, and after a week, it felt as though that missing hole had expanded into a ditch that had consumed our interest. It was my father's seat, beside my mother and I. Looking at it made my stomach turn. I felt a cold resolution consume me, and my chest suddenly felt too tight.

I stood up abruptly, the chair's screeching noise chewing on my nerves. I dropped my napkin, vaguely aware of how tight and awkward my words sounded in my mouth.

"I have to go. Excuse me."

With no explanation as to where or why I had turned in that instant, I ran away. Away from my mother, away from that empty chair, away from the void that had somehow found itself wedged between my heart and my mind.

I had been outside for an hour. White clouds rolled in from the north, casting gray shadows upon the large fields outside of the house. I pulled at the grass absently, letting the little green blades break between my fingers. I rested my gaze upon the ground, sitting in the silence that overcame me.

It's a very silly thing to stop your thoughts and isolate yourself. I often talked loudly and laughed too much, comfortable with the noise of people around me and of their own happiness. So often was I surrounded by friends and family, I had only moments in between long conversations to catch my breath. Without my father around, it seemed like I had too much time to think and to contemplate. I read every book I owned two times over, and also began to pick at my father's library of Emerson and Thoreau. But nothing satisfied my hunger still, and I yearned for the comfort of my own dad.

Through the silence and the sound of a fleeting storm, I heard a pair of boots crunching the fresh grass behind me. A shadow fell over me, tall and lean, and it spoke with an English lilt.

"Well, well. If it isn't the girl herself, Darcy Shaw."

I turned around and felt a smile tug at my lips. Standing over me was Will, the neighboring stable hand at the Smith's residence.

"William Carter– it is an honest pleasure." I felt a warm radiance in my chest that swelled into genuine happiness. The overbearing heaviness of my father's leave felt lifted from my shoulders, scared away by my friend's presence. He smiled at me and bowed with one sweeping motion. I stood and brushed the grass off of my dress, suppressing a chuckle.

"If I do say so myself, Miss Shaw."

"Oh, please." I threw my fistful of grass at the boy, the yellow and rich green color mingling with his sandy blond hair. He stood and shook it out, laughing.

"I know you're excited, but I do think there are supposed to be flowers attached to that grass if you were truly happy to see me." His smile became radiant as he looked at me. I held back a smile of my own, granting him the pleasure of the moment.

"What are you doing way out here?" I ask, looking around for one of the Smith's horses. "Has a horse gotten loose? A dog?"

Will shook his head. "Not at all. All the horses are accounted for." He studied me carefully, in the same manner that my mother had. I felt my heart sink. "I actually came out here to see you."

"Me?" I asked, trying my best to make my voice sound unwavering and solid. I felt my face grow cold and looked to the ground, adverting my gaze to my boots as I kicked at the grass. "You don't say. I haven't any clue as to why you would come all the way down here to see–"

"Darcy." Will's voice was soft. "Be serious."

I looked up at him, appalled. "I am quite serious."

A moment of silence passed between us. His brown eyes were gentle as he looked at me. "How are you holding up?"

I felt sick. WIthout warning, I felt my hands starting to shake. I brought them together to keep them from giving away how scared I was, how vulnerable I felt.

"Well." I said, my voice coming out sounding rushed. "I am doing very well. Quite good, actually. I feel very..."

"Abandoned?"

"No!" I snapped, far too harshly. Will raised an eyebrow at me, apprehensive. I tried to compose myself, but failed miserably.

"I'm..."

I'm empty.

I'm gutted.

I'm lost.

I'm hopeless.

I'm weak.

I fell to the ground, shaking, sobbing, hiding my face in my hands and letting everything go. I herd my desperate sobs reverberate in my head, sounding very loud and very unladylike. I never was a quiet cryer, always the loud, ugly ball of emotions that I felt coagulated with all the dignity I had left. I was raw and open there, kneeling on the damp grass outside my house with the local stablehand crouching beside me and trying his best to console me. Will's hand smoothed my hair and rubbed my back gently, delicately holding me close as if he might shatter my already broken frame.

Minutes passed before I could compose myself in a very weak, undignified manner. I truly felt empty and hollow then, an embarrassing mess and a pitiful display of company for my poor friend. He didn't seem to mind, and looked at me in concern.

"Feel better?" He asked me. I wiped my eyes and pushed stray strands of hair out of my face, nodding.

"Yeah." My voice was weak, but felt stronger. "Better."