The Christmas Blanket

I watched my baby sister like she was an angel, or a psychopath, or maybe a cross between the two. I blinked over and over, my frown deepening the longer silence passed between us.

And the more those words she’d spoken sank in, the more the emotion I’d tried to fight back all evening long surfaced.

“Oh God,” I whispered, pulling my hands from hers to cover my mouth. I shook my head. “You’re right. You’re right, Beth. I… I felt so stuck, so suffocated, that it felt like the only way out was to leave. But all this time, I’ve been searching for this… this feeling. I thought I would know it when it came. I thought one day I’d find a place or a person and everything would just click together and suddenly, right then, I’d know I was where I was supposed to be.”

Beth nodded, smoothing her thumb over my knee.

“And I did,” I said, emotion warping my face before I found a smile, found my sister’s gaze. “I did find that feeling. But it wasn’t in Europe, or Asia, or on a mountaintop or on a beautiful, white sand beach.” I shook my head. “It was in that boring, tiny cabin with no power, no technology, no fancy food or fancy views or fancy entertainment. It was in front of that fireplace, under that stupid old blanket,” I said on a laugh that Beth joined me in. “With that stupid man and that stupid dog.” I sniffed. “I had everything I needed in that moment. And I felt it in my soul.”

It was a revelation. As the words tumbled out of my mouth, I felt them soaring through every inch of my body like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. I pressed my hand to my heart, feeling where it beat inside my rib cage, where it was breaking with another realization.

“But I ran away from it,” I whispered. “I found what I’d been looking for all this time, right where I left it, and it was like finally finding it scared me more than searching for it had.” I shook my head, looking at Beth. “I left him. Again.” A sniff. “I am so, so stupid.”

“You’re not,” she insisted, squeezing my leg. “You were just lost, Eliza. And sometimes that can be easier than being found.”

My stomach toppled over itself, urging me to do something, but I had no idea what.

“What do I do now?” I asked my sister hopelessly.

To which she responded with only a smile, and a kiss to my forehead as she stood and grabbed my plate off the table. “You eat this pie,” she said, shrugging. “And then, you go home.”

“Home…” I echoed, taking the plate from her.

She nodded, thumbing my chin. “Home.”

Then, she left me, joining her husband and our parents and grandmother in the kitchen. I watched them from where I sat — their smiles and laughter, my dad’s arm around Mom’s shoulders and Robert’s hand interlaced tightly with Beth’s.

And I felt it again, the same thing I’d felt coursing through me in the cabin with River.

Home.

It’d taken me too long to realize it. It’d caused pain to so many people I loved just for me to pull my head out of my ass and realize that what mattered most to me in my life wasn’t what museums I’d been to or what continents I’d set foot on.

It was these people, right here in this tiny little map dot town that had a thousand others just like it sprawling across the United States, across the world.

I didn’t need another plane, or boat, or train. I didn’t need another beach, or city, or mountaintop.

What I needed was River.

I just hoped he needed me, too.Knock-knock-knock.

My hands were shaking inside my gloves as I waited on River’s doorstep, Moose barking like crazy on the other side. There was a warm glow coming from the windows, smoke from the chimney, and looking now at the cabin from the outside in only made me long for what I’d had inside it even more.

There was a low, grumbly command for Moose to be quiet, and then the door swung open, and River stood there on the other side of it.

It wasn’t surprise or joy that passed over his face at the sight of me. Instead, it was a sort of indifference that made my heart sink. His jaw ticked, eyes taking me in before he swallowed. Moose was jumping around behind him, wagging his tail and trying not to bolt between his legs and the door to get to me.

“Hi,” I whispered.

He didn’t say a word, just watched me with those furrowed brows, his jaw set.

“Mind if I come in?” I asked, holding up the box in my hand. It was wrapped in a metallic green paper Mom had left over and topped with a simple red bow. “It’s kinda cold out here.”