Christmas arrived with rain instead of snow.<\/p>\n
By three in the afternoon, Mom\u2019s windows were fogged from the oven, the kitchen smelled like butter and onions, and every horizontal surface held either food or something waiting to become food.<\/p>\n
I arrived carrying pie.<\/p>\n
Dara arrived twelve minutes later with two containers of vegetables and no clipboard.<\/p>\n
That still amused me.<\/p>\n
Alicia came with rolls.<\/p>\n
Uncle Ben came with the woman everyone had finally learned was named Diane and was, in fact, his wife.<\/p>\n
They had married six months earlier at a courthouse.<\/p>\n
Nobody had known.<\/p>\n
Dara stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou got married?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ben kissed Diane\u2019s cheek.<\/p>\n
\u201cSeemed simpler than a committee.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dara pointed a serving spoon at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hate you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He grinned.<\/p>\n
\u201cWorth it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ordinary chaos filled the house.<\/p>\n
For a while, that was enough.<\/p>\n
Then Raymond arrived.<\/p>\n
He stood on the porch beneath a black umbrella.<\/p>\n
Dad opened the door.<\/p>\n
Neither man moved immediately.<\/p>\n
Then Dad stepped aside.<\/p>\n
\u201cMerry Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raymond closed the umbrella.<\/p>\n
\u201cMerry Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n
No embrace.<\/p>\n
No dramatic reconciliation.<\/p>\n
Just entry.<\/p>\n
Dara was in the dining room.<\/p>\n
I watched her notice him.<\/p>\n
Her shoulders tightened.<\/p>\n
Then relaxed deliberately.<\/p>\n
Raymond saw her.<\/p>\n
\u201cDara.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRaymond.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was all.<\/p>\n
Mom looked relieved enough to cry.<\/p>\n
I caught her eye and shook my head slightly.<\/p>\n
Do not make this bigger.<\/p>\n
She understood.<\/p>\n
Maybe.<\/p>\n
Dinner began at five-thirty because nobody could agree whether the turkey was done at five.<\/p>\n
Raymond sat near Dad.<\/p>\n
Dara sat across from Alicia.<\/p>\n
I sat at the far end beside Diane.<\/p>\n
No one engineered it.<\/p>\n
That mattered.<\/p>\n
For fifteen minutes conversation stayed safely useless.<\/p>\n
Weather.<\/p>\n
Football.<\/p>\n
Ben\u2019s secret marriage.<\/p>\n
Alicia\u2019s job.<\/p>\n
Then Mom mentioned the archive exhibit.<\/p>\n
The room changed.<\/p>\n
Not badly.<\/p>\n
Just enough.<\/p>\n
\u201cI went again last week,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
Dad looked surprised.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTo see Daniel\u2019s composition.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raymond put down his fork.<\/p>\n
Mom continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere was a school group there.\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cOne little girl asked why he wanted to leave the mountains.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nobody answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did the guide say?\u201d Dara asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat people can love where they come from and still want somewhere else.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raymond looked down at his plate.<\/p>\n
A year earlier, that sentence might have started an argument.<\/p>\n
Now it simply existed.<\/p>\n
Dad reached for the gravy.<\/p>\n
Then Mom said, \u201cI thought that sounded like Evelyn.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked up.<\/p>\n
\u201cMe?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou always wanted somewhere else.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat isn\u2019t entirely true.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou left.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo did half the family.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her voice softened.<\/p>\n
\u201cI used to take it personally.\u201d<\/p>\n
The table quieted.<\/p>\n
Mom looked at Dara.<\/p>\n
\u201cSame with you, in a different way.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dara frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou stayed close enough that I expected you to always be available.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dara did not answer.<\/p>\n
Mom looked embarrassed.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m learning.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alicia raised her glass.<\/p>\n
\u201cTo late learning.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ben raised his.<\/p>\n
\u201cTo secret weddings.\u201d<\/p>\n
Diane elbowed him.<\/p>\n
Laughter returned.<\/p>\n
Then someone knocked on the front door.<\/p>\n
Mom looked confused.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re all here.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad stood.<\/p>\n
He returned a minute later carrying a florist box.<\/p>\n
No card attached outside.<\/p>\n
Inside were white lilies.<\/p>\n
Dara stiffened.<\/p>\n
Mom lifted the envelope.<\/p>\n
Her expression changed.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad took it.<\/p>\n
He read silently.<\/p>\n
Then looked toward Raymond.<\/p>\n
Raymond looked genuinely confused.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad handed the card to me.<\/p>\n
I read it.<\/p>\n
To the Whitmore family\u2014thank you for helping expose what happened to us too. Merry Christmas. Helen Carver and family.<\/p>\n
The room became quiet.<\/p>\n
Dara covered her mouth.<\/p>\n
I passed the card to her.<\/p>\n
She read it twice.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe didn\u2019t need to do this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s why it matters.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom began crying.<\/p>\n
This time nobody stopped her.<\/p>\n
Raymond asked, \u201cWho is Helen?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dara looked at him.<\/p>\n
For a moment I expected her not to answer.<\/p>\n
Then she told him.<\/p>\n
Not every detail.<\/p>\n
Enough.<\/p>\n
The fraudulent land claim.<\/p>\n
The money.<\/p>\n
The house Helen lost.<\/p>\n
Raymond listened.<\/p>\n
When she finished, he said, \u201cMartin did that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you met her?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked toward me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow many were there?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMore than we knew at first.\u201d<\/p>\n
His face changed.<\/p>\n
The scale of it had perhaps remained abstract to him.<\/p>\n
A scheme.<\/p>\n
A legal case.<\/p>\n
Now there was a woman with a name.<\/p>\n
A home lost.<\/p>\n
A daughter forced into the role of enemy.<\/p>\n
Raymond looked at Dara.<\/p>\n
\u201cI helped him.\u201d<\/p>\n
She did not rescue him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
He swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat sounds like an excuse.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt can be.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked surprised.<\/p>\n
She continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt can also be true.\u201d<\/p>\n
Another family sentence.<\/p>\n
Both things can be true.<\/p>\n
Raymond sat quietly for a long time.<\/p>\n
Dinner moved on around him.<\/p>\n
Later, while people cleared plates, I found him in the hallway staring at old family photographs.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
He gave me a tired smile.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know why everyone keeps asking that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause you look miserable.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFair.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pointed at one photograph.<\/p>\n
Grandpa.<\/p>\n
Young.<\/p>\n
Standing beside Dad and Raymond as boys.<\/p>\n
I had seen it before.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you remember about him then?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
Raymond looked at it.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was funny.\u201d<\/p>\n
That surprised me.<\/p>\n
Most of Raymond\u2019s stories about Grandpa had become serious.<\/p>\n
Land.<\/p>\n
Regret.<\/p>\n
Promises.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat kind of funny?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBad impressions.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf who?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEverybody.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raymond smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe could imitate the pastor so well Mom used to threaten him.\u201d<\/p>\n
I laughed.<\/p>\n
I had never heard that.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe cheated at cards too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat I believe.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe danced badly.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAlso believable.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raymond stared at the photograph.<\/p>\n
\u201cI forgot those things.\u201d<\/p>\n
The words were quiet.<\/p>\n
I understood.<\/p>\n
Grievances compress people.<\/p>\n
Grandpa had become the man who lost the farm.<\/p>\n
Harold Mercer became the man who bought it.<\/p>\n
Raymond became the uncle who could not let go.<\/p>\n
Dara became the sister who tried to take my cabin.<\/p>\n
Martin became the fraudster.<\/p>\n
All true.<\/p>\n
None complete.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you remember most?\u201d Raymond asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout Grandpa?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I thought.<\/p>\n
\u201cHim teaching me how to sharpen a knife.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raymond laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe nearly took off his thumb doing that once.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know. He told me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid he tell you Samuel screamed?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad, passing behind us, stopped.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was nine.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raymond grinned.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou screamed like a train whistle.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad pointed at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cCareful.\u201d<\/p>\n
Something passed between them.<\/p>\n
Old.<\/p>\n
Brotherly.<\/p>\n
Not healed.<\/p>\n
Still alive.<\/p>\n
For the first time, I understood that reconciliation does not always begin with apologies.<\/p>\n
Sometimes it begins when people remember there was a relationship before the wound.<\/p>\n
That evening, after everyone left, Mom called me back into the kitchen.<\/p>\n
She was holding an envelope.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing dramatic.\u201d<\/p>\n
I did not believe her.<\/p>\n
She handed it to me.<\/p>\n
Inside was Dara\u2019s cashier\u2019s check from months earlier.<\/p>\n
The one she had offered to cover my legal bills.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought she took this back.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe asked me to hold it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe said you should decide when you weren\u2019t angry.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked toward the doorway.<\/p>\n
Dara was already gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long have you had it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSince before Christmas last year.\u201d<\/p>\n
Of course.<\/p>\n
Mom had somehow kept a financial secret for twelve months.<\/p>\n
Miracles continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you want me to do?\u201d<\/p>\n
She immediately caught herself.<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
I smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did Dara say?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOnly that it\u2019s yours if you want it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at the check.<\/p>\n
For months, accepting it had felt like turning the harm into a transaction.<\/p>\n
Rejecting it had felt like preserving moral distance.<\/p>\n
Now both interpretations seemed too simple.<\/p>\n
Dara had caused real expenses.<\/p>\n
Paying them was accountability.<\/p>\n
Accepting payment did not equal forgiveness.<\/p>\n
Refusing it did not make me stronger.<\/p>\n
I folded the check.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll deposit it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom nodded.<\/p>\n
No speech.<\/p>\n
No sentimental comment.<\/p>\n
Progress.<\/p>\n
The next morning I texted Dara.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m taking the money.<\/p>\n
Her reply came immediately.<\/p>\n
Okay.<\/p>\n
Then, thirty seconds later:<\/p>\n
Does this mean I\u2019m forgiven?<\/p>\n
I stared at the message.<\/p>\n
Then another arrived.<\/p>\n
Kidding.<\/p>\n
Mostly.<\/p>\n
I wrote:<\/p>\n
It means you paid a bill.<\/p>\n
She answered:<\/p>\n
Fair.<\/p>\n
That was enough.<\/p>\n
January passed quietly.<\/p>\n
Then February.<\/p>\n
The quieter life became, the more I realized how much of the previous year had revolved around reaction.<\/p>\n
Someone filed.<\/p>\n
Someone called.<\/p>\n
Someone found a document.<\/p>\n
Someone revealed another layer.<\/p>\n
Now there were mornings when nothing happened.<\/p>\n
Those mornings felt luxurious.<\/p>\n
One Saturday, I drove to Laurel Bottom alone.<\/p>\n
Thomas had given me permission.<\/p>\n
I parked near the barn and walked toward the creek.<\/p>\n
The conservation sign stood clean and upright.<\/p>\n
No paint.<\/p>\n
No slogans.<\/p>\n
No family flags.<\/p>\n
Just a reminder.<\/p>\n
Private property. Access by permission.<\/p>\n
I loved those words.<\/p>\n
The old foundation looked smaller than I remembered.<\/p>\n
Maybe because the story around it had grown so large.<\/p>\n
I sat on a fallen log.<\/p>\n
For a while I tried to imagine Grandpa at six.<\/p>\n
Then twenty-four.<\/p>\n
Then old.<\/p>\n
Eventually I stopped.<\/p>\n
I did not know what he felt.<\/p>\n
That was okay.<\/p>\n
Family history did not require emotional ventriloquism.<\/p>\n
The creek moved.<\/p>\n
Birds called.<\/p>\n
Wind worked through bare branches.<\/p>\n
Real things.<\/p>\n
Enough.<\/p>\n
Thomas found me twenty minutes later.<\/p>\n
\u201cThought that was your car.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m trespassing politely.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou called first.\u201d<\/p>\n
He sat beside me.<\/p>\n
We watched the water.<\/p>\n
Then he said, \u201cI\u2019m selling part of the remaining acreage.\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned.<\/p>\n
\u201cTo the developer?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cA young couple.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat will they do?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSmall farm. Bees, vegetables, maybe goats.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat sounds loud.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGoats are criminals.\u201d<\/p>\n
We laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about the protected section?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cStays protected.\u201d<\/p>\n
Simple.<\/p>\n
No crisis.<\/p>\n
He looked toward the foundation.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy kids are relieved.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey thought I\u2019d keep the whole place until I died because I felt guilty selling family land.\u201d<\/p>\n
That sounded familiar.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat changed?\u201d<\/p>\n
Thomas shrugged.<\/p>\n
\u201cWatching you people nearly destroy yourselves over dead men\u2019s choices.\u201d<\/p>\n
Fair.<\/p>\n
\u201cI figured I should make mine while I\u2019m alive.\u201d<\/p>\n
I smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cRadical idea.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed.<\/p>\n
Before I left, Thomas handed me a photocopy.<\/p>\n
\u201cI found this in my father\u2019s toolbox.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery time someone says they found a paper, my life gets worse.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis one won\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was a receipt.<\/p>\n
1953.<\/p>\n
Arthur Whitmore had paid Harold Mercer twelve dollars.<\/p>\n
Purpose: purchase of personal belongings retained from former Whitmore residence.<\/p>\n
I stared at it.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did Grandpa buy?\u201d<\/p>\n
Thomas pointed to the handwritten list.<\/p>\n
Bible.<\/p>\n
Photographs.<\/p>\n
Coffee grinder.<\/p>\n
Miscellaneous papers.<\/p>\n
Not the wooden horse.<\/p>\n
That had apparently been missed.<\/p>\n
But Grandpa had recovered some things.<\/p>\n
The fact mattered.<\/p>\n
Not legally.<\/p>\n
Emotionally.<\/p>\n
He had gone back.<\/p>\n
Paid.<\/p>\n
Taken what he could.<\/p>\n
Left what he could not find.<\/p>\n
Another ordinary transaction preserved in ink.<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes Dad know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I keep this copy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s yours.\u201d<\/p>\n
I corrected him automatically.<\/p>\n
\u201cCopy\u2019s mine.\u201d<\/p>\n
Thomas smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cSee? We\u2019re all learning.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad cried when I gave it to him.<\/p>\n
Not much.<\/p>\n
Enough.<\/p>\n
He placed the receipt beside the wooden horse.<\/p>\n
Then looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI keep thinking there can\u2019t possibly be another document.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere is always another document.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat should be on the archive wall.\u201d<\/p>\n
A week later, the archive called.<\/p>\n
Not with another secret.<\/p>\n
With an invitation.<\/p>\n
They wanted Dad and Raymond to participate together in an oral-history recording.<\/p>\n
Dad said no.<\/p>\n
Then yes.<\/p>\n
Raymond said yes immediately.<\/p>\n
Then spent three days trying to control the questions.<\/p>\n
The archivist ignored him.<\/p>\n
The recording happened in March.<\/p>\n
Dara and I watched through a glass panel.<\/p>\n
Two brothers.<\/p>\n
Same father.<\/p>\n
Different memories.<\/p>\n
The archivist asked what Grandpa was like.<\/p>\n
Dad said quiet.<\/p>\n
Raymond said loud.<\/p>\n
They stared at each other.<\/p>\n
Then laughed.<\/p>\n
That moment may have done more for our family than any deed ever had.<\/p>\n
Because both remembered correctly.<\/p>\n
Different versions did not require one person to be wrong.<\/p>\n
At the end, the archivist asked what they wanted future relatives to understand about Laurel Bottom.<\/p>\n
Dad answered first.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat we came from there.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raymond looked at him.<\/p>\n
Then added, \u201cAnd that we didn\u2019t have to stay there.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt Dara take a breath beside me.<\/p>\n
Grandpa\u2019s sons had finally found a sentence large enough to hold both memory and departure.<\/p>\n
Afterward Raymond came toward us.<\/p>\n
He looked embarrassed.<\/p>\n
\u201cI stole that from Daniel.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dara shook her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019d probably approve.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raymond looked at her carefully.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre we okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
The question was too large.<\/p>\n
Dara did not pretend otherwise.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re better.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll take that.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then he looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou?\u201d<\/p>\n
I smiled faintly.<\/p>\n
\u201cAsk me next Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed.<\/p>\n
Fair.<\/p>\n
Outside the archive, spring rain had begun.<\/p>\n
Dara walked beside me beneath one umbrella.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m organizing Mom\u2019s birthday.\u201d<\/p>\n
I groaned.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe asked me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDangerous.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI gave her options.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow many?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThree.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAcceptable.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe picked brunch.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo schedule.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stopped walking.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo schedule.\u201d<\/p>\n
I touched her forehead.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you ill?\u201d<\/p>\n
She shoved my hand away.<\/p>\n
We reached our cars.<\/p>\n
Then my phone rang.<\/p>\n
Unknown number.<\/p>\n
I answered.<\/p>\n
A woman introduced herself as Melissa Whitmore.<\/p>\n
Raymond\u2019s daughter.<\/p>\n
Eric\u2019s mother.<\/p>\n
I had not spoken to her in years.<\/p>\n
Her voice was strained.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry to call you out of nowhere.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n
My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cRaymond?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She inhaled.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe disappeared this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stopped beside my car.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean disappeared?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe left his phone at home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCar?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere would he go?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then she said the one thing that brought the entire past year rushing back.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe took Grandpa Arthur\u2019s old map with him.\u201d<\/p>\n
Christmas arrived with rain instead of snow. By three in the afternoon, Mom\u2019s windows were fogged from the oven, the kitchen smelled like butter and onions, and every horizontal surface … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2993,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3014","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-feel-every-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3014","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3014"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3014\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3058,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3014\/revisions\/3058"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2993"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3014"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3014"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3014"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}