Chapter Twenty-Eight: ARRIVAL
969 Words
Eli
Home.
The word felt strange.
Not because it was wrong.
Because I wasn't entirely sure which place counted as home anymore.
The estate in New York?
The military bases I'd spent years moving between?
Or this place?
The sprawling Winslie family estate tucked away in the European countryside.
The place where I grew up.
The place where my parents still lived.
The place where every Christmas memory seemed to exist.
The jet touched down smoothly.
Outside the window, snow covered the ground in a blanket of white.
The sky hung low and gray.
The airfield workers moved through the cold bundled in thick coats.
Beside me, Kira pressed her face against the glass.
"Daddy."
"Yes?"
"It's snowing."
"I noticed."
Her excitement somehow increased.
"I love snow."
"I know."
"You don't sound excited."
"I've seen snow before."
"Daddy."
"What?"
"You are ruining the moment."
I rubbed my temple.
The child was impossible.
Across from us, Miss Kingsley was staring out the window too.
Unlike Kira, however, she looked nervous.
Very nervous.
The kind of nervous that made her repeatedly adjust her sweater for absolutely no reason.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The plane finally came to a stop.
Almost immediately, Kira unbuckled herself.
A mistake.
"Daddy."
"No."
"But—"
"No."
"We landed."
"We are still inside the aircraft."
The child sighed dramatically.
A future actress.
Without question.
Eventually we disembarked.
The cold hit instantly.
Sharp.
Clean.
Familiar.
Snow crunched beneath our shoes as we crossed the tarmac.
Kira immediately attempted to catch snowflakes.
Naturally.
Miss Kingsley looked caught between amazement and panic.
Also natural.
A black SUV waited nearby.
The driver nodded respectfully.
"Welcome back, Colonel."
I nodded once.
"Thank you."
The luggage was loaded.
Kira climbed into the vehicle.
Miss Kingsley followed.
Still looking slightly overwhelmed.
The drive took roughly forty minutes.
The countryside rolled past outside the windows.
Snow-covered forests.
Stone cottages.
Frozen lakes.
Christmas lights hanging from village streets.
The entire world looked like one of those holiday cards my mother sent every year.
The ones nobody actually believed were real.
Yet somehow they were.
Kira spent most of the journey glued to the window.
"Nanny."
"Yes, baby?"
"Look."
"I am looking."
"No, really look."
"I am."
"No, really really look."
I looked away before either noticed my amusement.
The child inherited her persistence from somewhere.
Unfortunately, I knew exactly where.
As we approached the estate gates, a familiar feeling settled over me.
Not anxiety.
Not excitement.
Something else.
Something complicated.
The gates opened slowly.
The vehicle rolled forward.
And there it was.
The house.
Massive.
Elegant.
Covered in Christmas lights.
Warm yellow light glowed from nearly every window.
Decorations lined the front entrance.
Snow rested along the roof.
It looked exactly the same.
Five years later.
Exactly the same.
Kira gasped.
"Nanny."
"I see it."
"It looks like castle."
"It does."
"Can we live here forever?"
"No."
"Aww."
The SUV stopped.
Before the driver could even open the door, the front entrance burst open.
My mother.
Of course.
Some things never changed.
She practically flew down the front steps.
Ignoring the snow entirely.
"DARLING!"
Kira immediately launched herself from the vehicle.
"GRANDMA!"
The collision nearly knocked both of them over.
My mother laughed.
Kira laughed.
Neither seemed concerned about their survival.
Typical.
I stepped from the SUV.
My father emerged from the doorway more slowly.
A sensible approach.
The man actually understood ice was slippery.
One point for him.
He shook my hand firmly.
Then pulled me into a brief hug.
"Good to see you."
"You too."
The exchange was short.
Comfortable.
Familiar.
The way it had always been.
Meanwhile, my mother had already moved on from Kira.
Naturally.
Her attention shifted immediately.
Toward Miss Kingsley.
Who looked utterly unprepared.
Also naturally.
"Xenia!"
Miss Kingsley blinked.
"Mrs. Winslie."
My mother ignored the greeting entirely.
Instead she wrapped her in a hug.
A full hug.
Miss Kingsley froze.
Completely.
Like a deer encountering headlights.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
"We've missed you."
The poor woman looked genuinely startled.
"Oh."
My mother smiled warmly.
"So much."
Miss Kingsley glanced toward me.
Help.
The expression was obvious.
I looked away.
Not my problem.
My mother finally released her.
Though not before inspecting her carefully.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Because the smile vanished for half a second.
Just half.
Most people would've missed it.
I didn't.
Her gaze lingered on the faint makeup covering Miss Kingsley's cheek.
The same spot I'd noticed yesterday.
Then the smile returned.
Instantly.
My mother said nothing.
Yet I recognized that look.
The woman was paying attention.
A dangerous thing.
Very dangerous.
Especially when she became curious.
Inside, the house was warm.
The smell of cinnamon and baked goods filled the air.
Christmas decorations occupied every available surface.
Kira immediately disappeared in search of cookies.
Predictable.
My father disappeared in search of coffee.
Even more predictable.
And somehow, within minutes, my mother had already linked arms with Miss Kingsley.
Leading her toward the sitting room.
Like she'd been part of the family for years.
The sight made something strange twist in my chest.
A feeling I chose not to examine.
Not today.
Maybe not ever.
Instead, I walked toward the large window overlooking the snowy grounds.
Outside, snow continued falling.
Quietly.
Steadily.
Covering everything in white.
Home.
The word appeared again.
This time it felt a little less strange.
A little more familiar.
Behind me, I could hear Kira laughing.
My mother talking.
Miss Kingsley answering shyly.
The house alive with noise.
With warmth.
With life.
I closed my eyes briefly.
For the first time in a long while, the holidays didn't feel like something I had to endure.
They felt like something worth experiencing.
Though I had a feeling the next two weeks were about to be far more eventful than I'd planned.
- Writer
