Page 29 of All I Want for Christmas Eve

“Probably,” I tell him. “So, what are your intentions with my sister?”

“I’m just going to try to make her as happy as I possibly can, for as long as she’ll let me,” Sven responds.

“Good answer,” I say, nodding with approval. “Okay, you can keep this one, Mary. He’s a good reindeer.”

“That doesn’t help me decide what to do with Mom and Dad,” she responds.

“Hell if I know, sis! You’re on your own.”

Mary sighs. “Okay, fine. How’s Adam, by the way. Are you pregnant yet?”

I make a face, glancing back to the garage where I left him. “One crisis at a time. I’ll tell you everything later.”

We say our goodbyes, and hang up, and I stand there for a second, staring at my green armchair. Adam enters the house then, brushing snow off his gloves.

“You still want to bring the chair?” he asks.

“No,” I say sadly. “It was my grandma’s. She used to sit in it and read stories to me while the other kids were out playing. I was named after her. Evelyn. Grandma Evie. She was the absolute best.”

“I can load it up in the truck if you want it,” Adam says.

“No, it’s fine,” I say, giving him a bright smile. “It’s ancient and outdated, I know. I tend to hold onto things for way too long. I need to let go, and move forward with my life.”

“Okay,” Adam says, holding the door open for me. “Hasta la vista, chair!”

Turns out that Adam is just as lovely and the city as he is in the middle of nowhere. He’s entertaining on car rides and even stopping at a gas station to fill up and grab snacks is enjoyable with him. (We also grabbed condoms.) It was a fun little road trip, and once we arrived in Fairbanks, we headed directly to the hospital to get him checked out. Even waiting in the emergency room with him for hours was pleasant. After getting some x-rays, and learning that Adam doesn’t have any broken bones—just a bone bruise or contusion, we had to get him a splint to keep him from moving the leg too much while it heals.

Now, we are in the car, headed toward a dealership, to sell my Jeep. Since I do not intend on returning to Alaska, it does not make sense to leave it here. But it almost hurts to let it go, more than my armchair.

“My parents gave me this car,” I tell Adam sadly. “I was the first one of my siblings to learn to drive, and I would take it all over Minnesota when I was a teenager. When I decided to go to school in Alaska, my dad helped me take turns driving the Jeep all the way up here. Everyone thought I was crazy, but my dad was always on my side. That was such an amazing trip, spending time with him like that. I’m going to miss this vehicle. It always reminded me of him.”

“It sounds like you guys have an amazing relationship,” Adam says. “But just look on the bright side—you’re letting go of the Jeep to go home and make new memories with your dad, while you still can.”

“I know,” I say softly. “It just hurts to say goodbye.”

Adam reaches over the center console and holds my hand. “Don’t worry, Eve. You’ll have plenty of time to spend with your dad. He’s not going anywhere, anytime soon.”

“If it’s Alzheimer’s, then there’s no cure,” I whisper.

Adam squeezes my hand. “You don’t know what it is unless you take him to the doctor. Stop thinking the worst, okay?”

“Okay,” I respond softly, squeezing his hand in return. Then I turn to look at him. “Thank you, Adam.”

“Hey, don’t thank me,” he says. “I think you’re crazy for moving way out here, too.”

I smile. “But it helped me meet you. So maybe I was right where I needed to be.”

He looks over at me with surprise. “I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I warn him playfully.

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