“Have either of you seen Lincoln?” I asked, almost yelling it. I was trying, and failing to keep my fear and worry in check.

“We sent him out. The child’s always moping at home. He should go do something” was my father’s offhanded reply.

I felt my relief warring with my anger until my anger won out.

“Without telling me?” I yelled.

“What do you mean without telling you?” My father asked, finally turning to look at me. He of course pinned me with a glare. But for once, I didn’t flinch, I didn’t back down.

“I mean what I said. Why did you make him leave without telling me?...