Evan (Angel Institute #6)

Chapter 17

Seventeen

EVAN

T he scent of gingerbread and sugar wafts through the air as I push open the heavy wooden doors of the Benton Falls Community Center. The warmth inside is a stark contrast to the brisk December evening, and I feel my cheeks tingle as they adjust to the change in temperature. Beside me, Chad lets out an excited whoop, his eyes wide with wonder as he takes in the festive scene before us.

"Wow!" he exclaims, tugging on Molly's hand. "Mom, look at all the gingerbread houses. They're even better than the ones we saw at the start of the contest!"

Molly laughs, her hazel eyes twinkling in the soft glow of the twinkling lights strung across the ceiling. "You're right, honey. The professional entries are really something else, aren't they?"

I’m smiling at their interaction as happiness permeates all around me. It's moments like these—simple, joyful, full of wonder - that have become increasingly precious to me over the past few weeks.

As we make our way further into the hall, I'm struck by the sheer artistry on display. The gingerbread structures before us are true masterpieces, ranging from intricate castles dusted with powdered sugar snow to elaborate recreations of famous landmarks. The air is filled with the excited chatter of families and friends admiring the edible works of art, punctuated by the soft strains of Christmas carols playing in the background.

"I can't believe how detailed some of these are," Molly murmurs, leaning in close to examine a miniature version of the Eiffel Tower. Her shoulder brushes against mine, and I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. "Look at the tiny elevator inside. You can almost see it moving!"

I nod, equally impressed. "The level of skill here is incredible. It's hard to believe these are edible."

Chad, who has been darting from display to display, suddenly calls out, "Evan! Come look at this one! It looks just like your farm!"

Curious, Molly and I follow Chad to a gingerbread creation near the back of the hall. As we approach, I feel my breath catch in my throat. There, rendered in painstaking detail, is a perfect miniature of Lawson Christmas Tree Farm.

The gingerbread barn is an exact replica of the one my great-grandfather built, right down to the weathervane on top. Rows of tiny sugar cone trees stretch out from the barn, their green frosting needles dusted with a light coating of coconut "snow". There's even a tiny gingerbread figure in a red flannel shirt standing among the trees, a minuscule axe in hand.

"Is that... supposed to be me?" I ask, leaning in for a closer look.

Molly giggles, a sound that never fails to make my heart skip a beat. "I think it is! Look, they even got your perpetual five o'clock shadow."

I run a hand over my stubbled jaw, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pride. "I didn't realize I was such a recognizable figure in town."

"Are you kidding?" a familiar voice chimes in from behind us. We turn to see Betty approaching, a steaming cup of hot cocoa in her hands. "Evan, dear, you're practically a Benton Falls institution. The farm has been part of this community for generations."

There's a twinkle in Betty's eye as she says this, and I'm struck once again by how much she reminds me of my grandmother. She has the same wise, knowing look, as if she can see right through to the heart of things.

"It's a beautiful piece," Molly says, gesturing to the gingerbread farm. "Do you know who made it?"

Betty nods, a proud smile spreading across her face. "That would be Chef Antoine from the Grand Hotel in the city. He's been fascinated by our little town ever since he visited for the fall festival. Talented man, isn't he?"

As we continue to admire Chef Antoine's handiwork, I find myself lost in thought. The gingerbread version of the farm looks so idyllic, so perfect. Is that how others see it? How they see me? The steadfast farmer, rooted to the land, a pillar of the community?

I glance at Molly, watching as she points out details of the gingerbread farm to Chad. Her face is animated, her eyes bright with excitement. Chad hangs on her every word, his own face a mirror of her joy. The sight of them together, so happy, so at home here in Benton Falls, fills me with a warmth I can't quite name.

"It's something special, isn't it?" Betty's voice breaks into my reverie, and I turn to find her watching me with a knowing smile.

"The gingerbread house?" I ask, though I have a feeling she's talking about something else entirely.

Betty shakes her head, her eyes twinkling. "Family, Evan. The way you three fit together. It's a beautiful thing to see."

I feel a blush creeping up my neck at her words. "We're not... I mean, Molly and I aren't..."

"Oh, I know," Betty says, patting my arm gently. "But sometimes the best families are the ones we choose for ourselves. And sometimes, the things we've been searching for have been right in front of us all along."

Before I can respond, Chad's excited voice cuts through the air. "Mom! Evan! Can we go see the judging? I want to see which one wins!"

Molly laughs, ruffling Chad's hair affectionately. "Of course, honey. Let's go find a good spot to watch from."

As they move away, Betty gives me one last meaningful look. "Don't let fear of change keep you from embracing what's right in front of you, Evan. Sometimes, the biggest adventures are the ones we never expected to have."

With that cryptic advice, she vanishes into the crowd, leaving me to ponder her words. I shake my head, marveling at Betty's ability to see right to the heart of things. She's right, of course. The thought of fully embracing this new dynamic with Molly and Chad is both thrilling and terrifying. But as I watch them make their way through the crowded hall, Chad's excitement infectious and Molly's laughter ringing out above the general hubbub, I can't deny the pull I feel towards them.

I'm about to follow when I hear a voice call my name.

"Evan. There you are. I was hoping I'd run into you again."

I turn to see Morgan Caldwell approaching, her camera crew in tow. She looks as polished and professional as she did at the tree lighting ceremony last week, her dark hair styled in sleek waves, her outfit screaming big city success.

"Morgan," I greet her, trying to keep my voice neutral. Our last encounter left me feeling unsettled. "How's the coverage going?"

She beams clearly in her element. "It's going great! The response to our segment on the tree lighting has been fantastic. People love the small-town Christmas charm of Benton Falls."

I nod, a mix of pride and unease swirling in my chest. It's gratifying to know that others appreciate the beauty of our town. “Listen, Evan," Morgan continues, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "I got an idea after I saw you a few weeks ago, presented it to my boss and he loved it. How would you feel about possibly appearing on the show?"

"Seriously?" I ask as a knot forms in my stomach. Me on television?

“Seriously,” she smiles.

"I'm not sure I'm cut out for TV, Morgan."

She waves off my concerns. "Nonsense. You'd be perfect. Handsome, rugged tree farmer keeping Christmas traditions alive? The audience would eat it up." She pauses, her eyes glinting with excitement. "And what if we did a series of segments? Not just on the farm, but on Christmas traditions around the world? You could travel with us, Evan. See all those places you used to dream about."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Travel. Adventure. All the things I once dreamed of, suddenly within reach. It's tempting, so tempting.

But then I glance across the room, my eyes finding Molly and Chad. They're standing near the judges' table, Chad on his tiptoes trying to get a better view, Molly's hand resting protectively on his shoulder. And I feel a different kind of pull, one that has nothing to do with faraway places and everything to do with the life I've been building here.

"I... I don't know, Morgan," I say, my voice hesitant. "It's a lot to think about."

She nods, understanding in her eyes. "Of course. It's a big decision. Why don't you take my card? Think it over, talk to your... friends. Call me if you're interested, or if you have questions."

I take the card, turning it over in my hands. It feels weighty, laden with possibility. "Thanks, Morgan. I will."

As she moves away to rejoin her crew, I stand there for a moment, my mind whirling. The opportunity Morgan's offering is everything I once thought I wanted. A chance to see the world, to break free from the responsibilities that have tied me to Benton Falls for so long.

But as I make my way over to Molly and Chad, watching as their faces light up at my approach, I remember how blessed my life is now because they’re a part of it and I'm not sure how to feel about Morgan’s offer.

"Everything okay?" Molly asks as I reach them, her brow furrowing slightly in concern. "You look like you've got a lot on your mind."

I shake my head, forcing a smile. "Just... thinking about some things. Nothing to worry about."

Chad tugs on my sleeve, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension. "Evan, they're about to announce the winners. Do you think the farm one will win?"

I ruffle his hair, grateful for the distraction. "I don't know, buddy. There are a lot of amazing entries here. But I think it's got a good shot."

As the head judge steps up to the microphone, I feel Molly's hand slip into mine. It's a small gesture, probably unconscious on her part, but it grounds me. In that moment, with Chad's excited whispers and Molly's warm presence beside me, I know that no matter what opportunities might come my way, my heart belongs right here in Benton Falls.

The judge clears his throat, and the hall falls silent. "Ladies and gentlemen, after careful consideration, we are ready to announce the winners of this year's Professional Gingerbread House Contest."

As he lists the runners-up, I find my mind drifting. The gingerbread houses around us are incredible, true works of art. But they're also temporary, destined to crumble and fade. What I'm building with Molly and Chad, though... that has the potential to last. To grow into something beautiful and enduring.

"And the grand prize winner is..." the judge pauses for dramatic effect, "Chef Antoine, for his charming and detailed recreation of the Lawson Christmas Tree Farm!"

The hall erupts in applause. Chad jumps up and down, his excitement palpable. "Evan! Your farm won! Your farm won!"

I laugh, caught up in his enthusiasm. "Well, Chef Antoine's version of it did, anyway."

Molly squeezes my hand, her eyes shining. "It's because the real thing is so special," she says. "He just captured what we all see when we look at your farm."

Her words should warm me, but instead, I feel a knot forming in my stomach. As we make our way towards the winning display, where Chef Antoine is standing next to his artwork with a beaming smile, I can't shake the feeling of unease that's settled over me.

The gingerbread farm glitters under the lights, a perfect miniature of the place I've called home all my life. But as I stare at it, I'm struck by how small it seems. How confined. Is this how others see my world? A quaint, picturesque setting, but ultimately limited?

I realize it's just a replica, a sweet but fleeting representation. The real farm, with all its challenges and rewards, is waiting for me. And so are Molly and Chad, their presence in my life more nourishing than any confectionery creation could ever be. So why can’t I quit thinking about Morgan’s offer?

As the evening winds down and we prepare to leave, Morgan catches my eye from across the room. She raises an eyebrow, a silent question about her offer. I feel a surge of longing that takes me by surprise. The idea of travel, of new experiences, of breaking free from the familiar... it tugs at me with more pull than I'd like to admit. But I also feel a yearning towards Molly and Chad. A tug that is strong and pure. Like they might be just the thing that makes me whole. I give Morgan a small smile and a shrug of my shoulders. There will be time for a proper response later, when I have it figured out.

"Evan? Are you ready to go?" Molly's voice breaks into my thoughts. She's helping Chad into his coat, her face flushed with happiness from the evening's excitement.

"Yeah, just... just give me a moment," I say, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears.

I watch as Molly leads Chad towards the exit, their heads bent together as they chat about their favorite gingerbread houses. They look so at home here, so content. And yet, I can't shake the feeling that I'm standing at a crossroads.

On one side is the life I've always known - the farm, the responsibilities, the familiar rhythms of Benton Falls. It's a good life, filled with warmth and community. Molly and Chad are part of that now, bringing a joy I never expected to find.

But on the other side is the unknown - the chance to see the world, to push myself in ways I never have before. Morgan's offer dangles before me like a shiny ornament, tempting and bright.

I finger the business card in my pocket, the edges already curling from how many times I've taken it out to look at it. The decision I face seems to loom larger with each passing moment.

As I finally make my way to join Molly and Chad, my steps feel heavy. The contentment I felt earlier has been replaced by a restlessness I thought I'd left behind. The warmth of the community center gives way to the chilly night air, and I shiver, but not from the cold.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Molly asks as I approach, her brow furrowing slightly in concern.

I force a smile, but it feels brittle on my face. "Yeah, fine... "

Chad, oblivious to the tension, chatters happily about wanting to make a gingerbread house of his own. Molly laughs at his enthusiasm, but I catch her glancing at me with worried eyes.

As we walk to our cars, the festive lights of Benton Falls twinkling around us, I'm acutely aware of the weight of the decision before me. The life I've been building here, with its unexpected joys and deepening connections, suddenly feels both precious and precarious.

I help Chad into Molly's car, then turn to say goodnight. Molly's eyes search my face, and I know she can sense my unease.

"Evan," she starts, her voice soft with concern, "if there's anything you want to talk about..."

I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. Instead, I lean in and place a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Goodnight, Molly. I'll see you tomorrow at the farm."

As I walk to my truck, I can feel her gaze on my back, while the card in my pocket seems to burn, a reminder of the choice I have to make. I climb into the cab of my truck, the familiar scent of pine and leather doing little to calm my churning emotions. As I drive home through the quiet streets of Benton Falls, my thoughts continue to war one with another.

The farm looms ahead, dark and silent under the starry sky. I park and sit for a long moment, engine off, staring at the house that's been in my family for generations. I pull out Morgan's card one last time, staring at the embossed letters until they blur before my eyes. The promise of adventure, of a life beyond these familiar boundaries, calls to me with a siren song I thought I'd stopped hearing.

But then I think of Molly's warm smile, of Chad's infectious laughter, of the life I've been slowly building here. It's a good life, a meaningful one. Isn't it?

Later that night, as I get ready for bed, my mind continues to whirl. The gingerbread contest, meant to be a simple evening of festive fun, has instead cracked open a door I thought I'd firmly closed.

I lie awake long into the night, Morgan's offer and Molly's concerned face battling for dominance in my thoughts. The future, which had seemed so clear just hours ago, now stretches before me like an uncharted path, full of possibility and peril in equal measure.

Sleep, when it finally comes, is fitful and filled with dreams of faraway places and roads not taken.

And through it all, one question echoes: What do I really want?