Page 38 of Of Heather and Thistle
Back at her dresser, she added a few essentials—pajamas, plain undergarments, fuzzy socks. She glanced at Byrdie’s carrier near the door. She had considered leaving her behind, just until she got settled. But she couldn’t. Byrdie had to come.
For a moment, doubt whispered.
What if I’m making a mistake?
What if I don’t belong?
What if I regret leaving?
No.
She’d spent too long waiting for permission to live. Doubt would always whisper—but she didn’t have to listen anymore.
Scotland was a beginning. And beginnings required a leap.
Her thoughts drifted to Glenoran House—the solicitor, the wild hills, the version of herself waiting somewhere beyond them. The grief didn’t feel so sharp anymore. It had softened into something else. Something like hope.
She zipped the suitcase and picked up the trust fund paperwork beside her passport. Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind—History matters. Not just in books, but in the stories we carry.
She would have loved this, wouldn’t she?
The thought settled in Heather’s chest—bittersweet, but warm. For the first time, she truly believed her mother would be proud.
“New country, new me, Byrdie.” Heather smiled.
The cat let out a soft meow from thebed, as if questioning her.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Heather laughed. “You’re coming too.”
Chapter 10
“Why on earth did I choose such an early flight?” Heather groaned as her alarm blared at 3:30 AM, shrill and relentless.
Her hand fumbled blindly across the nightstand, knocking over an empty water glass before finally finding her phone. The screen glowed too bright, making her squint as she silenced the alarm. A grumpy chirp came from the foot of the bed: Byrdie was curled up in a loaf, her green eyes slitted with disapproval and her tail flicking in irritated protest.
Heather let out a breathless, tired laugh. “Sorry, girly,” she croaked with a scratchy voice as she rubbed her eyes. “Believe me, I’m tired too.”
But she wasn’t just physically exhausted. She was emotionally drained. No Ivy. No Mark. No Evergreen Books. No familiar streets, no quiet café mornings, no steady routine to ground her, no comfort in the familiar.
She’d spent the last few weeks cutting ties, but now that it was time to walk away completely, she felt the ache of it in away she hadn’t prepared for. The weight of leaving pressed against her chest, feeling heavier than she had expected.
She sat up slowly, dragged herself to the bathroom, and splashed cold water on her face. She was really doing this!
Her suitcase waited by the door, neatly packed. Byrdie sat beside it in her carrier, blinking with sleepy disinterest. Heather knelt beside the carrier, rubbing her fingers over the mesh lining. “I hope you’re ready for an adventure,” she murmured. “Because there’s no turning back now.”
Byrdie let out a soft meow, blinking at her. Heather swallowed. No turning back. Then why did it still feel like part of her was still looking over her shoulder?
Once her greatest comfort, the apartment now felt like something she was shedding: not a home anymore—just a space she’d passed through.
She exhaled and reached for her coat.
It was time.
“…I think that covers it, don’t you, Byrdie-girl?” The cat let out a soft meow as if to agree, and Heather smiled.
Byrdie yawned lazily in response, and Heather couldn’t help but huff. “You’re going to be the most well-traveled cat in the neighborhood,” she said with a soft laugh.
She didn’t know if she was running toward something or just away from everything—but either way, she was finally moving. The morning air was cold and unforgiving as she and Byrdie stepped outside, with the mist clinging to the pavement and the streetlights glaring in the pre-dawn quiet. Their taxi idled at the curb with its headlights cutting through the early morning haze.
