was lost, but so what? Being lost worked for her. It felt like a metaphor for life. She was lost physically and emotionally. Her parents, two people she thought would be together forever, were getting a divorce.
The world no longer made sense. If they couldn’t make it, what chance was there for anyone else?
She wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening, but she knew denial wasn’t a good thing so she kept forcing herself to think the word.
Divorce.
Of all the things she’d expected to happen this Christmas, that hadn’t been on the list.
It felt as if her entire life was falling apart. First her job, and now this.
The irony was that she’d gone to her parents’ cabin unannounced because she’d wanted to check on her mother. She’d been worried she might be upset that Catherine seemed to be organizing Rosie’s wedding. Through the windows of the tree house she’d seen them seated on the sofa together, deep in conversation, and had thought how cute they were together. She’d envied them the closeness and felt a little guilty at disturbing them on their second honeymoon.
They hadn’t heard her knock on the door.
It wasn’t until she’d stepped inside the tree house that she’d realized the conversation absorbing both of them was focused on the details of their divorce.
She knew things hadn’t always been rosy at home—she’d witnessed the strain Rosie’s illness had put on their relationship, but that had been years ago and she’d assumed they’d somehow weathered it. The fact that they hadn’t put another dent in her view of relationships.
She’d thought her family was unbreakable and yet here it was, apparently broken.
Why now? It didn’t make sense.
And why was she so upset about it? That didn’t make sense, either.
She was an adult, not a little girl. The way her parents chose to live their lives shouldn’t impact her, but suddenly all she could think of was the fun times the four of them had spent together. All those idyllic years spent in Honeysuckle Cottage. Her parents taking turns reading her stories, lying on the bed next to her and letting her turn the pages. Her dad taking them all to see Egyptian mummies at the museum.
Christmas.
Christmas had always been her favorite time of year. From the moment she arrived at Honeysuckle Cottage and saw the candles flickering in the window and the trees decorated with tiny fairy lights, the stresses of the year somehow slid from her.
But she knew that what really made Christmas so special wasn’t the fairy lights or the candles, nor even her mother’s fabulous cooking—it was being home with her family.
She gasped in air as she struggled up the steep slope. Her parents added a level of security to her life, even though she didn’t see them that often.
Her life was so crazy she dashed from one moment to the next with little control over her time. Most days she felt like a leaf blowing in the wind. She’d shared a house with Vicky for a decade, but it still felt like somewhere she slept and ate. It didn’t feel like home. Honeysuckle Cottage was home. Would they sell it?
Katie stopped walking because she could no longer breathe properly or see where she was going.
She brushed away the tears, angry with herself.
Her parents were both alive and healthy. She of all people should know that was what was important. And of course they’d sell the cottage. They couldn’t hold on to a house that was too big for one person, simply to accommodate the family a couple of times a year. Why did that make her sad?
Maybe it was because the rest of her life seemed unstable. She’d had relationships over the past decade, but none of them had lasted more than a couple of months and she’d barely shed a tear when they ended. She had friends she was often too tired to see because she was always working, and a job she wasn’t even sure she liked anymore.
Her whole life had shifted precariously. She’d been so sure about being a doctor, but now she was questioning that.
She thrust her hand into her pocket and dug out her phone.
She shouldn’t be thinking about herself. She should be thinking about her parents. Her mother must have been miserably unhappy, and presumably she was unhappy now. Why hadn’t she said something?
Katie waved her phone in frustration, looking for a signal.
Guilt crawled over her flesh as she remembered all the times she’d avoided calling home. Maybe if she’d been