Page 12 of Howling Holidays

My protective instincts surge, drowning out any lingering doubts about my decision.No,I resolve,I can't tell her. She has enough to deal with right now, and I won't be the one to add more weight to her shoulders. Especially something as dangerous as this.

As the wind continues to howl outside, a sense of foreboding settles over me like a shroud. I know that keeping the truth from Emily will test us both, but I also know that my love for her has grown stronger than any curse. My thoughts turn to my mother, recalling some of the details surrounding her disappearance. She said she was getting close to finding the truth about the curse, what was she looking for? And why had she disappeared in her search for answers? I had long put these thoughts to rest out of fear of provoking any further danger after so much loss. But now these thoughts swirl in my head making me dizzy. On one hand, maybe Emily is onto something here and maybe we could find these answers together. Would it allow us to be together openly? On the other hand, there are clearly dark forces at play here and I refuse to lose anyone else to them. I have to keep Emily safe at all costs.

Morning comes too soon, solemn, and full of fresh white snow. The sun rises slowly over the sleepy town of Everwood, bathing the landscape in hues of gold and crimson. The morning light filters through the curtains of the inn's cozy room, casting a warm glow on Emily's face as she lays nestled against my chest.

"Logan," she murmurs softly, her eyes fluttering open. "Did you stay with me all night?"

I can't help but smile at the look of surprise and gratitude that crosses her features. "Yeah, I did. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Thank you," she whispers, her blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I don't know what I would have done without you these past few days."

As we lay there, tangled in each other's arms, I feel the weight of my decision pressing down on me like a heavy stone. I long to share my world with her – the magic, the mystery, and the darkness that lurks beneath the surface of our quaint little town. But I know that doing so would put her in danger, especially with a threat already looming, and I can't bear the thought of losing her.

We ready ourselves for the day quietly, an undercurrent of intimacy now running between us. Emily accepts my devotion with a radiant smile, despite the difficult day ahead. Whatever comes our way, we will face it together. I still don’t know what part she plays in all this, but I know I will protect her no matter what. Her grief now has purpose – uncovering the truth about Amelia's life and odd end. And my course lies with Emily wherever she leads.

The simple burial is more lovely and cathartic than the previous night's funeral service. Emily laughs hearing colorful stories from Amelia's eccentric life. Her eyes meet mine often, drawing strength and reassurance. My presence seems comforting for her, just as hers centers me. We stand out conspicuously amongst those who have known Everwood for generations though, but for once I feel part of this community, not watching from the fringes. All because Emily holds my hand without fear or judgment. This acceptance is new, and miraculous in a way I’ve never felt before.

We linger at the graveside as the other mourners drift off about their day, neither of us speaking. Emily casts a handful of earthy dirt onto the casket in a final farewell. Her tears fall silently, but her breath remains steady. It seems she’s found some measure of peace in honoring Amelia's memory.

When only a handful of people are left, Emily grabs my hand and smiles up at me as we turn to go. "Thank you for staying. I know this wasn't easy."

I squeeze her shoulder, letting my touch convey what I know I can’t quite put into words. "There's nowhere I would rather have been." And I realize the simple truth of it. My place is now irrevocably at Emily's side, despite the turmoil that decision invites. She is my anchor as I am hers. Separate futures no longer exist if they ever did. Our path is now one, for however long Emily is here. Wherever our path leads, we walk it together without hesitation. Destiny awaits, and we will answer its call.

Chapter eight

Emily

Isipmymorningcoffee slowly, watching the early dawn light gradually infusing the inn's cozy kitchen. Today promises to be heavy as I start sorting through my grandmother’s belongings. Part of me would rather hide here in this tranquil moment forever. But her possessions won't sort themselves, and I’m curious to see if she has anything with information on the town’s folklore. Based on the bits of stories she’s told me, I’m certain I’ll find something that will provide at least some answers. The time has come to finally peer beneath the surface of her complicated history.

I dress warmly before making the solemn drive out to my grandmother's home on the outskirts of town. It looks painfully lonely and neglected without her bright presence. The task ahead will be emotionally taxing, but I owe my grandmother this last act of caretaking. I only hope artifacts of her full, unusual life remain to reconstruct who she truly was. What did she know about this town that I don’t? There is still so much I don't understand about her secrets and ties to this town.

The more time I spend here, the more I wish I could stay. It’s going to take me forever to sort through her things and figure out what to do with the house; I have no idea what I should do. I contemplate what life would look like if I moved to Everwood. I could write my own column for the town newspaper, volunteer in the library. This quaint Christmas town is quickly capturing my heart with its charm. And of course, there’s Logan. I wish I had more time to explore things with him. But can I really leave my city life I’ve built in Boston?

The sun finally rises behind the trees, casting a warm glow through the windows of my grandmother's house. I find myself standing in the entryway, taking in the familiar surroundings that once felt like a second home to me. Yet now, everything feels distant and foreign, as if I'm a stranger intruding on someone else's memories. Inside, the house feels hollow, stripped of her immaculate touches. I move methodically through each musty room, surveying their contents. Most is unremarkable - furnishings decades out of style, embroidered linens, shelves of flowered porcelain and faded photos. But I search patiently for the hidden treasure that she must have buried somewhere.

"Emily," I whisper to myself, "focus."

I can't help but feel overwhelmed by all the emotions swirling inside me – grief, nostalgia, and a longing for the connection I once had with my grandmother. The air is thick with her presence, and I can almost hear her laughter echoing through the empty rooms. It doesn’t feel real that she’s even gone. I’m supposed to be cleaning out her home and figuring out what to do with it, but I find myself being drawn towards looking for answers first.

"Where do I even start?" I mutter, rubbing my temples as I glance around at all the belongings scattered about. Suddenly I remember the study, a room I'd rarely entered as a child. The shelves here are crammed haphazardly with documents dating back generations. My pulse leaps realizing this room was Amelia's connection to family lineage and Everwood's past. Surely, the answers I seek are hidden here somewhere waiting to be discovered.

I begin sorting carefully through boxes and drawers. Most contain mundane records - property deeds, receipts, ancestral maps. But tucked amongst them, tantalizing threads emerge. "Hello, what have we got here?" I ask, curiosity piquing as I carefully lift a mysterious box out of one of the drawers. As I lift the lid, a cloud of dust dances around me, tickling my nose until I let out an involuntary sneeze.

"Ugh, charming." I sniffle, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. But despite the inconvenience, I can't help but be captivated by the sight before me – a collection of leather-bound journals, their covers worn and fading with age.

"Grandma's handwriting," I murmur, tracing the delicate script etched into the cover of one journal. The thought of her hands holding these very pages sends shivers down my spine, making me feel closer to her than I have in years. And while I know I shouldn't pry into her private thoughts, I can't resist the urge to delve into her world and learn more about the woman who meant so much to me.

"Alright, Emily" I tell myself, gathering my resolve. "It's time to uncover the truth."

Letters addressed in a masculine scrawl to my grandmother, dating back to when her family first settled here in the early days make my heart swell with pride. I quickly find other letters discussing a "mutually beneficial arrangement" and "sworn co-existence" between the author's family and Everwood's founders. My hands tremble as I gently flip through the worn pages. The opening pages detail the early settlers' struggles to survive and build community. But later passages grow ominous, describing strange incidents in the woods and fears of a feral beast. The wolves are again referenced in an ominous entry about forbidding the townspeople from entering the forest after sundown. But here, they’re not dismissed as being mere stories. They’re regarded as the truth.

"May 12th, 1958," I read aloud, my voice barely above a whisper. "I met him tonight – the shifter of Everwood."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and I can't help but exclaim, "The shifter? What on earth?"

Eagerly, I continue reading, devouring each word as if it were a hidden treasure. My grandmother writes of mysterious figures lurking in the shadows of the forest, their eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. She speaks of a curse that has plagued the town for generations, binding its residents and the shifters to a fate they cannot escape.

I sink into my grandmother's dusty armchair, mind whirling over the evidence supporting Everwood's legends. As I sit here, consumed by the tales of shifters, curses, and ancient secrets, I can't help but feel a growing connection to this town, its people, and the mysterious man who seems to hold all the answers. In the early morning haze, the boundaries between reality and fantasy blur, and I am filled with an overwhelming sense of destiny that I cannot ignore. Every instinct screams these cryptic documents are the lost pieces that complete the puzzle. Hard proof has landed in my lap, yet I still understand so little. I have to show Logan immediately and watch his reaction. Though he’s got a good poker face, he clearly knows more than he admits about the supposed curse and mythical wolf shifters. For once, I finally feel like maybe I’ll start to get some answers.

---