“You’ve missed all my birthdays since middle school, Mom. I wasn’t expecting to see you. I’m impressed that you managed to get away, now.” She leaned back against the other end of the chaise, really looking at her mother, trying to figure her out. For that matter, trying to figure herself out. What was driving her, now, to try to find common ground? Was it just Carrigan’s, making her defenses low?

Maybe if she could decode her mom, she could start to heal the mountain of hurt that had been suffocating her for so long.

“I’d like to stop missing them. I’d like to stop missing all your life, eventually.” Ziva looked over at her, and Miriam cocked her head, considering this.

It was a wild request. She didn’t hate the idea, which surprised her.

“I meant what I said, before. I’m not sure we could ever build something, but I know we can’t while you’re living with him. I’m not asking you to get a divorce so we can maybe, someday, possibly be closer. However, I will point out, you could get a divorce to stop being miserable.” Her mother nodded, acknowledging this. Miriam pushed herself to standing. This was about as much Ziva Drama as she had emotional space for. “I’m going to go see who won the reindeer race.”

Eventually, everyone retreated to their rooms for naps. Miriam was snuggling into a blanket pile when Noelle knocked a little melody on her door and called, “Come on. Put on your coat.”

Miriam yanked open the door. “I’ve been going all day, Noelle. I’m going to introvert now. Look, I have this copy of The Secret in the Old Attic that outdates Carrigan’s itself. I crossed out every mention of Ned Nickerson in it when I was twelve. I shipped Nancy and George.”

Noelle leaned against the doorframe, and Miriam was briefly hypnotized by how her forearms crossed over her breasts. “I have a Christmas present planned.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she grumbled.

Outside the front doors, the sleigh waited, drawn by the farm’s grumpy middle-aged horse team. Mr. Matthews sat in the driver’s seat, and he winked at her. Noelle lifted Miriam up beside her. She smoothed a big faux-fur rug over their laps and held one of Miriam’s hands in both of hers, under the blanket. They stole sidelong glances at each other as they whooshed deeper into the woods. Miriam’s heart sped up along with the sleigh runners.

Icicles hung from branches and glinted in the dusk, refracting the evening like crystals. It felt like a place out of time. A chickadee chirped, the only sound beside the wind tinkling through the ice and the horses’ snorts. Even their hoof falls and the sound of the sleigh were muffled by the snow.