Kaylee and I tired of the badminton, primarily because she couldn’t hit the shuttle with her racquet. But also, thirty minutes had passed and there was no sign of our father. We sat on the blanket I unfolded for us. Everything else about the day felt great. 82 degrees Fahrenheit. Late June. Still two more months of this stuff to soak up.

But the sunshine lacked warmth. Dad’s disappearance was evident. Our trip to Hereford Lake had motives other than cheering up the family. Kaylee started to whimper like a troubled puppy.

“What’s the matter?”

She played with a dandelion, her whine droning into a rhythmic monotone song.

“You hungry?”

Her head nodded, convulsing up and down, modulating the tone of her cry. I reached into dad’s backpack in search of chips or pretzels, but instead found pills. Little white paper bags were stuffed with orange plastic cylinders filled with prescription medicine. I thought it strange when dad was talking with the emergency room technician for so long. They had serious faces and spoke at a low level. Then we were told to wait in the car.

“Dad’s got nothing to eat,” I said to Kaylee. Her whine groaned louder. I stood up, grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s see if we can find something.”

Throwing dad’s backpack over my shoulder and leading my sister towards the information center, I scanned the area for any sign of dad. If he were to return, the blankets would hopefully tell him we’re still here.