Page 61 of Of Heather and Thistle
Eilidh hadn’t been stuck here. She had left because she wanted to.
Because there was a whole world waiting. And still… she had made sure Glenoran would come back to her daughter.
A lump formed in Heather’s throat, but it wasn’t grief. Not exactly.
It was gratitude.
“I hope you get to have an adventure too,mo leanbh,” her mother had once whispered, brushing a curl behind her ear. “It doesn’t have to be like mine. But promise me—you won’t let the world stay small.”
Heather swallowed hard, thumb brushing over her mother’s name at the top of the page.
“I promise, Mom.”
Carefully, she folded the letter and tucked it back into the box.
She hadn’t expected an old acceptance letter to make her feel so close to her mother. But it did. It was a reminder that Eilidh had once been young, too—a dreamer. A girl ready to take on the world.
Heather glanced at the darkened staircase, the upper floors cloaked in quiet shadows. She still wasn’t ready to sleep up there. Not yet.
Instead, she pulled a thick blanket from her things and settled on the couch in the sitting room, letting the last embers of the fire warm the space. Byrdie curled at her feet, purring softly, and for a brief moment, Heather allowed herself to feel safe.
The house creaked as wind stirred outside, a low groan passing through its bones. She pulled the blanket tighter, adjusting it over her shoulders.
“Alright, house,” she murmured to the empty room. “We’ll figure this out together.”
The words hung in the silence, but somehow… they made her feel less alone.
Tomorrow, she’d begin.
One room at a time.
One step at a time.
And for now, she let her eyes drift shut—finally surrendering to sleep.
Chapter 16
Heather jerked awake, the cold clinging like a second skin—settling deep into her bones. The scent of dust and old wood filled her nose. It took her a moment to place the heavy quiet around her, the kind that only existed in places long forgotten.
Glenoran.
She groaned, rolling onto her back; the thin blankets she’d purchased barely warded off the chill that had seeped into the makeshift sleeping areas she had thrown together in the sitting room. The grand, ornate fireplace was dark now, nothing but cold embers and lingering smoke curling through the air.
“This was a terrible idea,” she muttered, staring at the ceiling. The house didn’t feel empty. It felt aware. She shook the thought off, but couldn’t deny the eerie feeling that wouldn’t budge.
The wind whistled through the cracks in the stone, rattling the windowpanes. A creak echoed from somewhere upstairs.Heather froze, every nerve in her body going rigid. “It’s just an old house, Byrdie.” She whispered under her breath. “Old houses make noises.”
Byrdie, unbothered, released an exasperated mew as she stretched and rolled over, exposing her soft belly.
Every squeak and sigh of the walls made her jump, and she spent far too long staring into the dark, trying to convince herself it was just the house settling. Still, it felt like the house was watching her. The distant rain and wind against the windows didn’t help her sleep, either. With a groan, she dragged herself out of bed, rubbing her eyes as she made her way to the kitchen.
She immediately froze when her feet hit something cold and wet on the floor. Looking down, she saw the water—clear, but a puddle nonetheless. A leak. Fantastic. She glanced up toward the ceiling, realizing the rain from the previous night had done more damage than she’d anticipated. Heather stared at the puddle, her hands clenched at her sides. It wasn’t just about the leak—it was about everything. The peeling wallpaper, the eerie quiet, the way the house felt like it belonged to someone else’s past rather than her future.
She had come looking for a fresh start. All she had was a soggy towel, a leak she didn’t know how to fix, and the creeping suspicion that she was in way over her head. What a joke. The only fresh thing about this place was the smell of damp wood and regret. Was she out of her depth? Was this house going to fight her every step of the way?
“Well, this is just great,” she muttered, kneeling to inspect the puddle. She could already feel the frustration rising. Her mind immediately began ticking off everything else she would need to deal with—the roof, the plumbing, the fact that she hadn’t evenhad time to tackle unpacking yet.
She grabbed a towel and mopped up the water, the sound of it soaking into the fabric echoing in the empty room. Heather knew this place needed work, but seeing it firsthand—the leaks, the dust, the old furniture left behind—made the weight of it all sink in. There was no turning back now. This was her responsibility. She had to make it work, no matter how overwhelming it felt. After mopping up the last puddle, Heather took a deep breath and pulled out her phone.
