Page 113 of Peppermint Bark

“Canvassing the state?” I repeated in disbelief.

“So this is where you’ve been all this time?” he asked, assessing the reception area, an approving smile tugging on his lips.

“For the past three years,” I said, ducking into the office for a dry pair of socks.

“I told you I’d heard Saratoga Springs was beautiful, didn’t I?” He gestured to the hailstorm outside. “Though it didn’t give me the best welcome.”

Then his gaze dropped to my Vermont hoodie, curiosity shining in his eyes. “Did you learn to ski?”

“Yeah, we went last week,” I gestured to include Mallory, sloughing off my wet hoodie for a cardigan she found. “That’s why I was close to … to Plattsburgh.” I almost called it ‘home,’ since that’s what it had been for me and him, but that wasn’t home anymore.

I'd made my home here.

He grinned proudly. “When I offered to learn together, you said you were afraid of heights.”

“I still am,” I confessed. “But I learned how to fall.”

“So what’d you study?” It was strange that he didn’t know.

“Bachelors and Masters of Social Work.”

“Oh Jer —” he cut himself off then quickly recovered, his voice soft and affectionate. “Grace, that’s perfect for you.”

My head tilt said ‘Your turn,’ and his feet shifted. “I stayed at Syracuse for nursing school. Same house. I always hoped one day, I’d walk into my room and you’d …” His heavy sigh conveyed the weight of his loss. It had torn me apart to leave, but he’d lived with my ghost.

“Nursing school,” I repeated. I thought he’d go into engineering, but he’d chosen nursing. Science meets heart. Perfect for him.

I broke his gaze to meet Mallory’s cautious eyes, and her chin dipped.

“I made enchiladas,” I said, my voice only wavering slightly as I tilted my thumb toward the lounge. “Do you want to stay?”

His face softened as I held out my hand. Mama told us that she’d never seen two toddlers touch as often as we did, and as his hand slid into mine, he exhaled in relief.

For the first time in eight years of imagining seeing him again and being rejected, it occurred to me that he’d been worried that I would reject him. Maybe he feared that if he found me and put his heart on the line, I would send him away … and yet he sought me regardless.

Not able to talk around the emotion, I squeezed his fingers. He returned the gesture, an entire conversation in that quick touch.

His face lit up when he saw the enchilada pan and I served him a generous portion. “There’s nothing like homemade enchiladas, and these are as good as Mama’s. I haven’t had sauce this rich in years.”

“Mama doesn’t make it anymore?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I haven’t been home since you left.”

“You haven’t …” I stared at him in shock.

“When you missed our first Skype call, I figured you’d slept through it, or maybe it was just a time zone issue. The next week when you didn’t show, I called your phone but it was disconnected. I called Isaac, but he hadn’t been home in weeks, after that fight with Dad about Rachel.”

I considered Isaac, my responsible oldest brother and a perennial rule follower. Which of the rules we’d grown up with was he willing to break?

“Dad lied to Mama about why you left and commanded Levi to keep his mouth shut, assuming that you wouldn’t make it on your own and when you came home, things would go back to normal. Isaac eventually got the truth out of Levi … but weeks had passed and we’d already lost your trail.”

Elijah’s shoulders tensed like he was reliving the experience. “Isaac went ballistic. He blamed himself for not being home or checking in. He …” Elijah’s voice cracked. “I wanted to fly home from Tokyo, but Isaac told me to stay while he searched, saying I couldn't do anything that he couldn’t. He said, ‘He told you to go see the world, he would be so pissed if you left.’”

Elijah’s head dropped into his hands, and I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. My stomach churned with the guilt, fear, and shock. Mallory perched on the armrest to wrap her arm around me as I silently processed how my departure had exploded my whole family.

All this time, I assumed they were happy without me, that they’d all written me off as easily as our father had.

“Elijah, what's Isaac like now?”

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