Home For Christmas
Tears roll down my face and I’m mad at myself. Tears are what got me into this, and they aren’t going to get me out of it. I try to recall all the television shows I’ve ever watched and think of ways to survive. I look in the back seat and spot one of my sweaters and grab it. I hang it on the outside of the door, hoping the bold red can be seen against the snow. I look around in the back seat to see if there’s anything else I can use. When my hands land on the plastic box, I say a silent prayer of thanks to my family that must be watching over me.
My grandmother had a tiny Christmas tree in her nursing home that used battery-powered lights. I kept it after she died and packed it up in my car when I was getting ready to leave. I grab the lights and take them off the tree, then turn them on and hang them outside my door next to my red sweater. If someone does come by at least they’ll be able to spot me on the side of the road. With the way the snow is coming down I’ll have to keep reaching out and shaking it off, but at least it’s something.
Once I’ve done that, I grab some more of my clothes and a blanket to wrap around my body for warmth. I have no idea how long it will take someone to find me, but I hang on to the hope that eventually I’ll be seen. I have to. Otherwise I’ll panic and cry and it won’t do me any good. I need to conserve my energy and try to focus on hope.
The image of Vance pops into my head again and my heart aches. Why can’t I just let him go? This whole stupid trip was about me moving away. Moving on with my life. And look where I ended up. In a ditch just outside of town. I can’t even run from my problems the right way.
I let out a sigh and watch as my breath makes a cloud in front of me. “Help,” I say to the universe, and close my eyes.
Chapter 4
Vance
The first place I go after I leave my parents’ house is my office. I don’t have a cell phone or any way of looking up where she might have gone to college, and I know the trust paperwork would be there.
When I get there, I thank god that my code still works and that Hunter hasn’t touched my office. Everything in it is exactly the same, including the files in my desk. I open the drawers and go right to the folder I had started on Holly. From the first time we met I gathered as much information as I could on her and then did everything to make sure she was provided for. I had the trust set up for school, but it didn’t specify which one.
It takes me hours to find the account numbers and codes I need to access her file. I made it nearly impenetrable even for myself. When I finally find what I think I need, it takes even longer to get into my computer than I initially thought. It’s Christmas Day and no one is working. Plus, it might seem a little odd for a man who was pronounced dead to be back at his desk.
The sun is setting when I enter the codes and cross my fingers. If she went out of state to college I might have to charter a plane in the morning. I promised my dad I’d be home tonight and I’m going to keep that promise. I owe him that much.
When I scroll through the documents I see that the financial advisor I had set up for her has listed the local college as her alma mater. My heart rises but then immediately falls when I read that she graduated. She finished her degree last month, and her notes don’t include a forwarding address. All it shows is that her monthly disbursement will go directly into her bank account.
“Shit,” I mutter, dropping my fist on the desk.
The only thing I can think of is to try the shelter. The financial advisor doesn’t keep up with her personal life, so I have no way of knowing if she still volunteers there. I grab my keys off the desk and glance down at the photo next to it. It’s of me and Holly and a few others from the shelter. We’d had a Valentine’s Day party and in the picture she’s wearing a red sweater with hearts on it. I stared at that picture for so long, wondering if one day she’d feel the same way I did.