Noelle

Chapter 10

I stare down at the folder on the kitchen table. I'd forgotten about the article while on the ridge with West earlier, but now it's right here, and there is absolutely nothing to keep me from reading it. Besides, this is the whole reason I've come to Aspen; to get information on my father. Only now I'm tense and full of anticipation about what I'll find when I open it. I don't know if this is even what I'm looking for.

Mentally preparing myself for whatever it may hold, I open the folder and slide the newspaper article onto the table.

The first thing I notice is the date at the top, which reads December 1, 1994, making it twenty eight years old. It was written 4 years before I was born. I know that my father moved to Pennsylvania as a young man, and this is how he met my mother. I was born a year after they got married which means that this article was written around the same time that he moved.

I give myself a moment to process this information and then I know it's time to see what it says.

The Return: What it Means for Our Heroes

It was only yesterday that the plane landed in Oklahoma City, but for the families of several of the men and women aboard, it has felt like an eternity. They took off from that same landing strip eight months ago almost to the day, making this a much anticipated reunion.

Amelia Dagwood was one of those to step off of the flight and into the waiting arms of tearful family members. "It's been too long," she told us, holding her two year old daughter to her chest. "And it never gets easier."

Their returns are indefinite as of now, but they know all too well that they may end up having to pack their bags again in the future. "It could be a month or a year. You just never know," said John Maren, who has worked alongside Amelia over the past months. "You hope that the call won't come, but it's never certain."

When asked about his plans for the coming months, he laughed. "Who knows. I'd love to see more of the country."

We wish them the best of luck in whatever they decide to do now that they're home, and hope that the welcome they've received thus far will show them at least a bit of the immense appreciation and respect we hold for them.

I stare blankly at the paper, not quite understanding what I've just read. It's torn at the bottom, and I can see that a photograph and the rest of the article are both missing. My heart had begun beating faster at the mention of the man sharing my father's first name, but I'm not clear on much else. Where had they gone? Why were they considered heroes? I curse the missing portion of the newspaper and wonder why Alexander thought this was relevant.

As I gingerly put it back in the folder, I realize that I'm no closer to finding him now than I was when I left home.

•••

I walk into the living room and take in the emptiness. It's Christmas Eve and I've done my best to make it look festive.

I found a small boxed Christmas tree at a bargain store in a nearby town after a day of hunting, and had taken down a strand of lights from my bedroom to wrap around it. It sits in the corner of the room, pushed between the door and TV.

The cookies I baked a couple nights ago are set out on the coffee table beside a copy of my favorite Christmas movie.

A glance out of my window reveals that the street has been decorated with wreaths and bows which lead to the center of town. I watched them being put up from my bedroom window, thinking about how beautiful it looked with the snow that blew in over the last few nights.