We weave our way through the crowd, dragging my bags behind us, the buzz of travel chatter and rolling suitcases fading as we break out into the cool, open air. Aunt Rose pops the trunk, and together we wrestle my overstuffed luggage inside.
Without thinking, I veer toward the right side of the car.
“Other side, love,” Aunt Rose calls, a teasing lilt in her voice. “That’s the driver’s seat in this neck of the woods.”
I pause midstep. “Right. Okay. This is fine. I’m totally fine,” I mutter, pivoting around in the most awkward little shuffle that has her outright grinning.
“Give it a week,” she says, chuckling. “You’ll be opening the wrong door like a local in no time.”
When I climb into the passenger’s side, the seat belt gives me hassle, because of course it does, before I’m able to wrangle it into place with a victorious click.
“How long’s the drive to your place?” I ask, settling back against the seat, already bracing myself for how wildly out of my depth I am.
“About forty minutes, give or take. I’ll take the scenic route so you can see why I decided to call this place home.”
“Oh, I’d love that. Best taxi driver ever. Ten out of ten,” I tease.
“Yeah, well, don’t tip me just yet. I’m a talker.”
Twenty minutes into the drive, I’m completely in awe. She wasn’t kidding when she said scenic. Scotland is everybit as breathtaking as I imagined, maybe even more. The green hills stretch endlessly in every direction, dotted with grazing sheep, like something plucked straight from a painting. The winding roads curl around hillsides, leading to cozy little cottages, and a river appears now and then, winding through the landscape, its surface shimmering under the soft sunlight.
The moment we drive up the dirt road to her house, I’m practically itching to hop out of the car. The cottage comes into view from behind a grove of towering birch and oak trees, its rustic charm greeting me with open arms.
I push open the door and step out of the car. “Well, I hope you know you’re never getting rid of me now,” I say with a laugh, falling into step behind her as we head up the path to the door.
She shoots me a sly grin. “Then my plan is working. Let’s give you the grand tour before we haul your bags in.”
She guides me up the short stone staircase leading to the front door, then waves me inside. The space is exactly what I expected. Eclectic, full of character, and brimming with warmth, just like my aunt herself.
We enter a cozy living room where well-loved furniture is arranged around a wood-burning fireplace. To the right, I catch a glimpse of the kitchen through a small dining room, and to the left, there’s a hallway that I’m guessing leads to the bedrooms.
Aunt Rose looks around with her hands on her hips. “It’s small but it’s home.”
I glance around appreciatively. “It’s wonderful. How long have you been here?”
“A couple years now,” she replies. “I bought it shortly after I started working at the local distillery. I handle their marketing but work here a lot of the time. Hence, the desk in the corner of the dining room.” She gestures to the small piece of furniturecluttered with papers, computer monitors, and a few scattered pens.
“Do you go into the office much?”
“A couple times a week, mostly by choice. I work with a great group of folks.” She clasps her hands together as she leads me down the hallway. “Now, let me show you to your room. There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms down here.”
We reach my bedroom at the front of the house. The walls are painted a soft blue, and there’s a sunlit bed. It’s the view beyond the windows that steals my breath. More rolling green hills scattered with wildflowers, framed perfectly by glass panes that Aunt Rose keeps meticulously clean.
I curl into the corner chair, legs tucked beneath me, already picturing lazy afternoons.
“Let me grab your bags so you can get comfortable,” she offers.
I grab the armrests to pull myself up. “I’ll come out with you.”
“No, you sit! You have to be exhausted. I’ll get your things.”
I drop back into the chair, letting out a quiet sigh, though I’m far from tired. The truth is, my body’s still running on adrenaline. This is the first moment of peace I’ve had in over twenty-four hours. No rushing, no packing, no hopping between airports.
Being here with my aunt makes me miss Mom. She used to make everything feel…safe. I haven’t felt that since she’s been gone. I’m afraid I lost home the moment I lost her.
I tried to find home in James after she passed away, but we all know how that turned out.
The breeze drifts in through the open windows, crisp and clean, carrying the scent of something new. I exhale through my lingering sadness. There are no expectations here. Just…me. Ican’t decide if it’s exhilarating or terrifying. Maybe both. But I guess that’s the point, right?
