Chapter 4: Apprenticeship and Endurance

Life as an apprentice was hard—long hours, little food, a shared room that smelled of mold and sweat. Caleb wrote in his diary by flashlight, sketched the world outside his tiny window, and dreamed of finding his real home.

Sometimes, late at night, he imagined traveling the country—hitching rides, following every clue. But he had no money, no skills. Surviving was hard enough.

So he worked. Seven in the morning to eleven at night—drawing, carving, sanding, with only a couple hours to sleep. There was no pay, and Frank sent nothing for his living expenses. Caleb learned to make do with tap water and day-old bread.

A year passed. His carvings grew more intricate, more beautiful—word got around, and they sold better than any other apprentice’s. Still, to keep Frank off his back, he mailed a chunk of his wages home each month, the envelopes heavy with resentment.

Eventually, he lost touch with Georgia, and with it, the last tie to that stolen childhood. But every night, as sleep dragged him under, he saw his brother’s face—small, scared, and waiting to be found.