Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Probably all the hiking in the summer and shoveling snow in the winter…
“Help! Oh, please, help,” a frantic voice calls from up ahead, pulling me from my thoughts. I look up to see Willow running toward me down the snow-dusted road. “Holly, is that you? Oh, Holly, thank God.”
“What’s wrong?” I shout, jogging toward her. “Are you okay?”
Willow’s purple coat flares behind her like a cape, her silver hair has come loose from its bun, and her usually peaceful gaze is frantic. I’ve never seen her like this and instantly fear something’s happened to my parents.
“My car wouldn’t start, and the phone lines are down out our way.” She gasps as she nearly collides with me, her hands reaching out to brace herself on my arms. “It’s Cheeks. He’s gone. And in terrible danger.”
I experience a brief flood of relief that Mom and Dad are all right, followed closely by worry for my favorite chipmunk. “What happened?”
“He was visiting Maple, the calico who lives above the bookstore.” Willow’s words tumble out as she continues to fight for breath. “He was out on the porch with her, having a snack, when Peanut, that angry dog from the tree lighting ceremony, attacked them. Calico ran back inside, but Cheeks…” She shakes her head. “Margaret said she saw him run behind the mercantile, but when she went to look, he was… She couldn’t see…”
“Okay. Got it. Don’t worry, we’ll find him,” I assure her. “Are my parents at home? You know they would have been happy to drive you to town.”
Willow’s brow furrows. “I don’t know. I was so frantic. When my car wouldn’t start, I just started running.” She swallows before adding in a softer voice, “I can’t sense his energy, Holly. I always can, even when he’s far away. But now… What if he’s…”
She can’t voice the fear, but I understand perfectly.
“We don’t know anything for sure,” I say firmly. “You’re the one who taught me how important it is to stay in the present moment, right? To only consider what the universe is giving me when it’s sitting in the palm of my hand?”
She nods, seeming at least a little bit soothed by the reminder. “You’re right. Take only what comes, and you’ll only ever grieve what’s truly lost. It’s the best way to reduce suffering.”
“Exactly,” I say, grateful to see her recovering her center. “Now, where did Margaret say she saw him last?”
“Behind the mercantile, not far from the forest.”
My stomach clenches. The woods are dark, dense, and full of chipmunk predators. Even if Cheeks managed to get away from Peanut in time, he won’t be out of the woods yet.
Literally…
And the snow is really coming down now. If it keeps up like this, the drifts will soon be over a little creature’s head, and the sun is setting soon.
All good reasons to hurry.
“Come on,” I say, turning back toward town, moving fast. “I’ll help you look, and we’ll see how many people we can add to the search party on the way to the logging trail. We’ll find him.”
As we hurry down the street, practically jogging, I take a more critical look at the sky. The clouds are dark and thick. This isn’t just a flurry. It looks like the winter storm that was supposed to hold off until midnight has arrived early.
Probably too early for it to be safe for Willow and me to be out looking for too long…
I push the worry down and focus on the bright side. We have nearly an hour before sunset, and there were still tons of locals out and about when I left town. We’ll find people to help, blanket the town in a Cheeks-loving search party, and be at the pub celebrating over hot toddies with a chipmunk in someone’s pocket by dinner time.
Bright side, bright side, I silently chant, hoping this won’t be one of those times my optimism gets me into trouble.
Seventeen
Luke
The pub is warm and loud, filled with laughter and the cheerful chaos of people celebrating the night before Christmas Eve.
I sit alone in the corner booth, nursing a non-alcoholic cider that’s gone warm in my hands, watching the revelry with a rising sense of determination. An hour ago, I walked in here cold and confused, my conversation with Holly tumbling around and around in my head.
Now, everything is clear.
Crystal clear, in a way nothing has been in years.
Holly was right about everything. The darkness I see everywhere isn’t the truth—it’s my truth, but only because that’s the filter I’ve been using to view the world. A filter built from my father’s cruelty, childhood pain, and my own desperate need to protect myself from being hurt again.
But here’s what I finally understand…
That filter doesn’t keep me safe. It keeps me isolated. Alone. Cut off from the things that make life worth living.