After they had settled for the night, I grabbed my things and left, going through the kitchen to the back where they had asked me to park my car. Something bright caught my eye, and I was horrified to find the bag of gifts I had brought beside the garbage can. The symbolism wasn’t lost on me. My gifts were worth nothing to them. Nor was I. I took them with me, knowing there were many people who would appreciate them back home.
Because Nova Scotia was my home now—not here. It never really had been.
I felt only relief as I left the house, and I knew they would feel the same way when they woke and found me gone. I no longer had to try or to spare them another thought. The only sadness I felt was at the fact that Mia would be brought up among such cold people. I feared she would become like them, and it bothered me, not that I could do anything to prevent it. I knew she wouldn’t be allowed any contact with me. Silently, I wished her much luck, determined if she ever reached out, to be there for her.
I drove straight home without a break. It took everything in me not to pull off the highway as I passed the exit to the town where Holly lived. I had to wrap my hands tightly around the steering wheel and not look in the rearview mirror. I fought down the swell of desperate need to go to her.
Holly hadn't asked me to stay, so I didn't think she would want me showing back up a couple of days later on her doorstep, wanting to share my sad story. I didn't think I could handle more rejection—especially not from her. I needed to accept that she was right—my time with her had been a moment in my life. Not the future.
Somehow, that reality was far harder to handle than the disastrous finality with my family.
Holly was constantly on my mind, lingering on the edge of my thoughts. I compared everything that happened with my parents to her. Her warmth versus their coldness. Her giving, generous nature against their judgmental, rigid views. Her sweet acceptance. Their complete rejection.
With a weary sigh, I pulled into the driveway leading to my house. Lights beckoned to me, their warm glow a welcome sight after the long drive. Dan's car was parked in front of the house, and I knew he and Carol would be there waiting for me. I smiled sadly. Unlike my family, they would be happy to see me. I opened the car door, relieved to be home. Immediately, I was enveloped in Carol’s embrace, a motherly action I needed more than I realized. Surrounded by her scent—vanilla and cookies—I hugged her back and let her lead me inside my house. Coffee, sandwiches, and a warm fire waited for me.
As did their patience and understanding.
"Evan, I'm so sorry. I had hoped things would go better for you." Carol's voice was hurt-filled. Hurt I knew she was feeling for me.
I leaned my head back on the sofa, enjoying the feeling of the simple comfort that being surrounded by my own things brought me.
"Pretty much a disaster from the get-go. Maybe my car breaking down was a sign. I guess I should have listened better to what the gods were saying." I smiled, trying to lighten the atmosphere, while my mind went over what I had just shared with Dan and Carol.
I told them everything about the time with my parents, holding nothing back about their displeasure or how I was done trying to be what they wanted. Moving forward, I was living life the way I wanted—with no apologies.
"Are you okay, Evan?" Carol's voice broke through my musings.
I nodded. "I'm just tired."
"You should have stopped. That is such a long drive."
I shook my head. If I had, I would have turned around and gone to find Holly. The urge had been strong. "I wanted to get home."
"We're glad you're back." Dan smiled at me. "Carol's got a big brunch planned for you. We'll give you tomorrow to rest up and come over the next day. It'll be our own little Christmas."
"I look forward to it."
Carol leaned forward, her hands resting on her knees. "Are you going to contact her? Holly?"
"Carol," Dan chided. "Not our business."
"Hush." She turned back to me. "Well?"
Carol had been full of questions about Holly. She was fascinated by the way we met and the time I’d spent with her. I had shown her the wings Holly gave me and the wood-carving tools. Talked about the time we spent together. It had been such a relief to be able to tell someone about her. I never brought up the subject at my parents', letting them think I had traveled even later than I actually had. It would have been blasphemy to have said Holly’s name there. I could only imagine the biting comments that would have followed, and I didn't want to share that memory with them, only to have it tainted.
I shrugged. "And say what, Carol? ‘Hey, thanks for the interlude. I'll look you up next time’? It was, as she said, a stop in my life. Something we both needed at the time."
Carol frowned. "Bullshit, Evan. That is bullshit."
I gaped at her. Carol never swore.
"She didn't ask me to stay," I insisted.
"And you didn't ask," she stated pointedly.
I stared at her, unsure what to say.
Dan let out a bark of laughter and stood. "I think we need to leave. Don't forget brunch. Come over whenever you want that morning." He pulled Carol off the chair. "We're going now. Get some sleep, Evan."