"Papa, I'm home" Kalet shouted, knocking on the wood of her entryway. Wiping her slippers off on the colorful braided rug- an accomplishment she had prided herself in at the time as the scraps of fabric from her childhood dresses brought some whimsy into the bland entryway, she heard her father's shuffling footsteps nearing. His wrinkled face, weathered by years of heartbreak, greeted her with a grin.
"In his younger years, he had been considered a handsome man. He had not believed it himself until he caught the eye of his "late" wife. After she left, he realized she may have married him for his gentle demeanor, an unusual trait rare to the men of his time. His face had a soft structure to it, his eyes a warm brown that revealed every thought and emotion that ran through his head. Kalet had inherited his eyes, as well as her petite frame from him. Their small family had a slight stature, the brawny farming families surrounding them all stood at least a head taller. Well-learned, if not scholarly, he always had struck people as odd. People whispered about that "lofty, quiet Emil", whispers that had in no way died down in recent years. His own love of reading and education he had also, unfortunately, passed onto his daughter- cursing her with the same puzzling behavior that had set him apart from the town.
"Kalet! Why, it's so good to see you. My, how you have grown!" He gripped her shoulders, pecking her cheeks and pulling her into a tight hug. "You must come visit more often. I swear you were a foot shorter the last time- such a lovely young lady, you've turned out to be. Do come in, come in."
His smile, broad as daylight, warmed her heart. Of course, she had only seen him hours before, but he often lost track of time, or, in this case, reality. On the rare occasion that he was fully coherent, she received no such affection from him. When his mind cleared, he spent his time locked away in his study, as if transported back to the day his wife abandoned them. Moments like this, she savoured. Cherishing the return of her loving, good-natured father.
"Oh, thank you, Papa, it's so good to see you as well! I've brought us a fresh loaf of bread from the market and some cheese to share. I thought, perhaps, you would like to have a bite with me?" Kalet spoke gently to him, beckoning at her basket.
Wholeheartedly accepting her offer and waving her towards the dining room, he sputtered around as he made his way there: peeking in her wicker basket, humming around the kitchen, brushing some nonexistent dust off the window sill. Collecting a knife and wooden board, she sat down at the oak table. While her father continued to hum around absently, she settled onto the worn, rickety bench and laid out her basket's contents. By the time she had finished, he had wandered off in a daze. Accustomed to his mindless antics, she went to collect him, and herd him once again towards their meal.
She found him pacing around his study, skimming the bookshelves and the bindings lining them. More than likely, he had spent all day occupied this way: searching for something he may never find. Maybe looking for the book he had so brashly sold, she thought bitterly. Introducing her presence with a knock, so as not to startle him, she reminded him of their pending dinner. Disorientedly emerging from his stupor, he allowed her take his hand and lead him back to the table.
Kalet watched him as they ate their meal. His cognitive decline had increased substantially in more recent years; perhaps as a result of her lessening need for him. Although he frequently had bouts of madness during her childhood, he managed to tend to her until she learned to care for herself. Staring quietly as he picked apart his bread, Kalet wondered what went through his head when he began to lose himself. To her, he seemed blank, his muddy eyes empty and fixated on a point. She knew he must have something ruminating about his mind. Perhaps he dreamed of his next invention, or of her mother. Whatever the progress in his mental illness, he seemed happier and more content; albeit, a little lost. Occasionally, he spoke of her mother- lamenting her absence, praising her beauty, or forgetting she had left altogether. Kalet did not mind; she preferred his current attitude over the raging fits he formerly went into at the mention of his wife.
Breaking the silence, she questioned him on the activity of his day and his welfare. When he did not reply, she attributed it to his condition and went back nibbling on her cheese wedge. It surprised her when what seemed like minutes later, he spoke up.
"Quite alright, I suppose." His calloused, dry fingers drummed on the table for a moment. "I'm concerned about your mother, Kalet"
Startled, she murmured a brief, inquisitive acknowledgement.
"Perhaps- perhaps, you've seen it." He muttered for a moment, gathering his thoughts, "Frantic with worry, I'm sure."
"Papa, I'm afraid I don't understand." Confused, Kalet prodded him further. The gears in his formerly empty eyes churned in an effort to form his thoughts. For a moment, she thought he may lose himself again.
"She can't find her journal. Anywhere, I'm afraid!" This came as a great surprise to Kalet. Her eyes widened. Her papa went on, "It's just that- well- what if someone found it? Very concerning."
Trying to make sense of his disjointed thoughts, she gathered he had indeed been looking for her book. He had imagined her mother's presence before, but he had never requested her journal. She raised an eyebrow, trying to discern his state of mind.
"Did she set it down in the work shed, somewhere? I'm certain I noticed it lying about." He would set out to find it, but likely forget the whole scenario before he gave up.
"Kalet, this is no joke." Her papa's face turned serious. Looking more parental by the moment, his tone deepened. "You know very well your mother never goes in my shed. Besides, I checked there."
"Of course, papa." Struggling to appear serious about the matter at hand, she pushed him further. "Well, could she have dropped it on your afternoon stroll?"
His face lit up. "Oh yes, yes! I'm certain of it."
With a sigh, she reassured him she planned to search for it after dinner. His mind at ease, they continued in small talk for a while longer. Not entirely delirious, he managed to discuss topics he found comfortable. Easy, casual conversation- "safe" words- that he frequently used when making a new acquaintance. Although somewhat tiresome, as they had the same conversation what seemed like a hundred times to Kalet before they finished. She found herself appreciative of his interest in her day and his sweet company.
Once they had their fill of cheese and bread, she urged him off to bed. Still somewhat anxious about her mother's missing journal, she reassured him repeatedly that she intended to scour the grounds that very night. The sun had yet to set, but she found him more amicable after a long night's sleep. Fortunately, he had little awareness of time and dared not to question the sunlight for fear of sounding as though he had lost his mind. Ironic, she thought.
Holed away in his room for the night, Kalet entered her father's study. She flipped through the papers on his desk- indecipherable to her. Lines, measurements, and calculations hastily scribbled as the ideas occurred to him, catching them before they slipped away. Many of the things he came up with had already been invented. Irrigation systems, wheeled ploughs, pronged forks; all things he noticed throughout his day- on walks, or wandering through the house- that struck him as an idea. Occasionally, he had an original idea. In such cases, she urged him to build models for her. It amazed her that in his delirium, he still managed to piece together some impressive designs. Except, of course when he forgets to add springs, she scoffed- remembering the incident with the knife once again.
Picking out a book from the packed shelves about botanical medicines, she settled into the worn-in settee and opened the book to her marked page. Not her usual choice of genre, but interesting due to its relevance. Curious about the healing benefits of the ancient Maidenhair tree and its effects on the brain, she imagined finding a cure for her father's condition. Mostly, she found it a suitable distraction from the day's troubling events. It only took a few sentences before she had lulled off to a fitful sleep.