Chapter 9 - The Journey North
The drive up through the snow-dusted highways of New York and into Vermont was different this time.
There was no wrong turn off the highway, no bitter wind biting through a soaked coat, no lonely child standing barefoot in the snow. Instead, the dashboard heater hummed softly, playing a quiet jazz compilation while fat, peaceful snowflakes danced against the windshield of Nathaniel’s SUV.
When he pulled into the long gravel driveway of the Vermont farmhouse around midnight on Christmas Eve, the entire house looked like a beacon of warmth against the dark, pine-covered hills.
The front door swung open before Nathaniel even had time to kill the engine.
Wren didn't wait for him to step out of the car. She burst out onto the wooden porch, wearing woolen boots and a red winter coat with a fluffy white collar—her own coat, bought with love and care—and sprinted straight down the steps, splashing through the fresh powder.
She didn't knock. She didn't hesitate. She threw open the passenger door and threw her arms around Nathaniel’s neck the second he stepped out onto the gravel.
"You came!" she squealed into his heavy wool scarf.
Nathaniel wrapped his arms around her small frame, lifting her up easily as a genuine, unreserved laugh escaped his lips—the first real laugh of Christmas Eve in nearly a decade.
"I wouldn't miss the gingerbread cookies for the world, champion," Nathaniel said, setting her down gently.
David walked out onto the porch, holding a steaming mug of cider, his face lined with quiet happiness and gratitude. He didn't offer a grand speech. He simply raised his mug in a silent toast as Nathaniel walked up the steps.
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Inside, the house smelled of cinnamon, pine, and toasted vanilla. A crackling fire danced in the stone hearth, casting golden light across a room filled with laughter, warmth, and life.
For the first time in nine years, Nathaniel Reyes didn't feel alone.
