Page 36 of Of Heather and Thistle
Maybe this—this strength, this peace—was what her mother had dreamed of for her all along.
Heather let herself lean into that new perspective, ready to see where it would take her.
Chapter 9
The next few days passed in a whirlwind of preparation, each task chipping away at Heather’s nerves and building anticipation. Her laptop glowed in the dim apartment as she sat at her desk late one evening, staring at a list of flight options. She’d always gone straight to economy—no questions, no extras. Just good enough. But her finger hovered over the screen, hesitating. And then, for once, she didn’t settle. She booked first class.
Her mother had always believed in treating life as an adventure, finding little joy even when things were difficult.
“We deserve to make room for comfort, Lammie,”she’d said, nudging Heather’s shoulder as they wound through the Appalachian hills in a rented RV, their laughter echoing through the trees.
Heather drummed her fingers against the desk, her mother’s words echoing in her mind. She pressed confirm. It felt extravagant, almost absurd—but that’s what the trust fund was for. A chance to leap into something new. Whenthe confirmation email hit her inbox, a small smile tugged at her lips.
Byrdie padded into the room, her tri-colored tail swishing. She hopped into Heather’s lap, purring. Heather stroked her soft fur, heart tightening at the thought she’d been avoiding—should she bring her to Scotland?
The practical answer was no. Long flight. New environment. Too much change. But the emotional one? Unshakable. Byrdie had been her constant, her quietest comfort.
The next day, Heather researched pet travel, made the calls, and picked up a soft-sided carrier from the store. Byrdie was coming. They belonged together—whatever lay ahead.
Between packing and sorting her apartment, Heather paused often to pet her or whisper about their upcoming adventure.
“Glenoran House…” she said softly one afternoon, sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor with an open suitcase in front of her. Byrdie blinked up at her with green eyes that were calm and steady. “…It sounds like a whole other world, Byrdie. But you and me—we’ll figure it out together.”
Every day, Heather’s apprehension was slowly replaced by her growing sense of purpose. Byrdie would be right there with her, a little piece of home as she stepped into the unknown.
She moved to sit on her bed and Byrdie curled up beside her, purring softly. Her phone rested on her lap with its blank message screen glowing. For days, she’d wrestled with the decision about contacting Ivy; whether to say something or whether to walk away completely.
Ivy had been in her life for so long, woven into her days like a second skin. Unraveling from her felt unnatural.
Painful.
But the truth was, they’d been fraying for a long time. Sam was just the final, unforgivable thread. Heather hadn’t spoken to Ivy since that night—not when the apology texts poured in, tangled with excuses. Not when Mark suggested she respond for her own closure. And not when the ache of loss settled in her chest like a second heartbeat.
Because Ivy had made her a joke. A prize to be bartered. She’d laughed while Heather stood there, blindsided and humiliated.
But saying goodbye still felt impossible. Silence had become its own kind of closure—sharp and cold.
And yet, the closer she got to leaving, the heavier those unsent words became.
How long would she be in Scotland?
Days? Weeks? Months?
Despite the betrayal—despite knowing she’d never truly mattered—leaving without a word felt unfinished. It wasn’t a story she was ready to slam shut, even if she had no energy left to rewrite it.
Heather bit her lip, fingers hovering over her phone. Ivy had shattered her—but Ivy had also been there through her father’s worst nights. She’d held Heather when the grief of losing her mother was too heavy to bear.
She’d been her best friend.
And even if they never spoke again, even if it stayed broken forever… Ivy had been a part of her life for too long to leave behind without saying anything at all.
Heather inhaled sharply, then exhaled slowly. This wasn’t a reconciliation. It was closure. Quiet… necessary…final.
It was about walking away withoutlooking back and about letting go so that she could finally step forward in life.
Her hands trembled slightly as she started typing, cautious, deliberate:
Hi, Ivy. I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving for Scotland tomorrow. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I felt like I should tell you. Things between us are still hard for me to process, but I wanted to say goodbye. Take care.
