Page 91 of Seeds of Christmas
“Of course, I do!”
“Then why are you in separate rooms?”
I sit up. “Because—because I’mangry. And hurt. And I don’t know what to say.”
“Carter.” My dad’s voice goes soft. “Can I tell you something your grandpa used to say?”
My chest tightens. “Yeah.”
“He used to say that the bravest thing a person can do is show up. That’s all you gotta do. Show up. Not when it’s easy. When it’s hard. When you don’t know what to say. When you’re scared, you’ll make it worse. You show up anyway.”
I’m quiet, processing.
“And you know what?” Dad continues. “He was right. That’s what being a first responder teaches you. You show up to the hard stuff. You don’t run. You don’t hide. You show up, and you figure it out.”
“I’m not a first responder.”Yet.
“No. But you acted like one when that girl needed you. You called for help, you stayed calm, you got her out. You showed up. Just like grandpa used to, just like I do.”
“That was different. I had to do that then.”
“Was it? Because it sounds to me like she needs you again. And you’re sitting in your room feeling sorry for yourself instead of showing up.”
The words slash me like papercuts.
“What if I show up and she still pushes me away?” I ask quietly.
“Then at least you tried. At least she knows you fought for her. But Carter—hiding in your room because you’re hurt? That’s not fighting. That’s running. And you’re better than that.”
I’m crying now. Just silently, tears running down my face.
“I miss him, Dad. I miss Dominic.”
“I know, son. I do too.” His voice is thick. “Every single day.”
“And I keep thinking—if he were here, he’d know what to do. He’d know how to fix this. He’d be better at—at all of it. Or I could ask him. He was so good with girls; he always knew what to say.”
“Maybe. But he’s not here. You are. And Carter—you’re doing better than you think. You saved that girl’s life. You called me and asked for help, which takes more courage than you know. You’re letting someone in, which is brave as hell. You’re doing it.”
“I don’t feel like I’m doing it right.”
“There is no right way. There’s just your way.” He pauses. “And Carter? I’m so damn proud of your way.”
I have to swallow hard to speak. “Really?”
“Really. You’re not Dominic. You’re not supposed to be. You’re Carter. And that’s exactly who you should be.”
“Dad?” My voice is small.
“Yeah, son?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
I take a breath. “When I was getting Rhi out of the cave—when I was calling you, using what you taught me—I felt... I felt right. Like I was doing what I was meant to do. Not geology. Just... helping someone. Being there in a crisis.”
“Okaay.”
