WORTHY, Part 1 Read Online Free Page A

ominous.
    I skipped breakfast to try and beat the rain at my chores. I gathered eggs in record speed but kept the chickens in the coop so they wouldn’t get scattered by the impending storm. There were ripe tomatoes on the vine, so I gathered them as well, dropping them into a five-gallon bucket as the wind began to pick up, bending the trees at the edge of the woods and whipping my hair around.
    With no need to haul water from the barn spigot to the garden, I secured the bird netting as tightly as I could and dashed back to the cottage, eggs and tomatoes in tow, just as the first fat drops of rain plummeted from the sky. By the time I got all the windows closed, it was really coming down, and I whooped for joy. The land needed this rain. I needed this rain.
    I gave in and cracked a window just to have the cool, wet breeze blow through the house, laying a towel down on the floor to catch the dripping water. Thunder boomed through the room, making me jump, and I hoped the power wouldn’t go out. I wouldn’t have a way to contact the company, and it would probably be one of the last transformers to be repaired because of how remote it was.
    Just in case, I emptied out the ice trays into a bowl in the freezer and filled them again, knowing I could keep anything perishable in a cooler if I had enough ice.
    The thunder boomed again, making me jump and laugh. It’d been so long since I’d experienced an honest-to-God storm that I’d practically forgotten what it was like.
    I experienced a momentary flashback of being a little girl when a storm swept through my hometown in the middle of the night. Terrified, I’d fled to the safety of my parents’ bed. I shook the thought from my head. It was too sad to dwell on, and there was nothing I could do to change it. There was no one to go running to anymore. I was all alone.
    When the worst of the storm passed and the clouds lightened from blue black to gray, I decided that I’d celebrate the needed rain with a walk through the woods. It had been a while since I’d seen the creek run at anything other than a trickle, and everything would be glazed with rain. It was too much for me to resist.
    Wearing an old rain slicker and some rubber boots, I squished out to the tree line before plunging into the woods. It was still raining lightly, but the canopy above me kept me mostly dry. Only the occasional drop pelted my hair, cooling my scalp beneath the curls.
    It was like a different place after the rain. Silvery drops glistened on every surface of every leaf, and even spider webs grew more beautiful when festooned in rain. Looking up was like being beneath a green umbrella. The trees’ color had improved immensely with the water, and I appreciated every moment of beauty I witnessed.
    I also wasn’t disappointed when I reached the creek. It gushed over tree roots, its normally clear water brown with mud and debris. It was exciting to watch the rare occurrence—my creek usually meandered instead of rushing. I began following it to the river to see how large the pool had grown, when I stopped.
    I thought I’d heard something over the running water.
    I paused and tilted my head, keeping still so I wouldn’t make any more noise than possible. There. There it was again. Just discernible over the creek’s roar was a voice.
    The voice of someone else in the woods.
    I knew it was ridiculous, but my first reaction was one of fear. Who else could be out here with me? I’d never seen anyone in these woods—not ever. But there was someone there, and they sounded like they were in pain. Like they needed help.
    Treading carefully over the wet tree roots and leaves, I stepped closer to the raging creek. Keeping my head cocked toward where I’d heard the voice, I quickly realized that I’d have to cross the creek in order to reach it.
    The swift, swollen creek.
    I had been up and down this creek for years and felt like I knew it intimately, but it was practically a stranger to me now. I