Solace ~ h.s.

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This chapter is dedicated to... xsweeeetcreaturex!

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"Is this it?"

Harry and I stand outside the small Scottish cottage that shares the same address as the one on Harry's phone. I can't help but admire it's vintage beauty and how well it fits in with the other homes around it. It looks exactly as I had imagined it.

"That's it." Harry says, sighing and sliding his phone into the pocket of his skinny jeans.

"It's cute."

We must appear like proper creeps, standing across the high street from this person's cottage. The neighbours, if they were to see, would surely be worrisome about strangers lurking around the homes.

"Okay," I mutter, shaking all the nerves out of my body that I still have in my body, "it's like ripping a plaster off. Let's get this over with."

I know if I stand outside the house any longer, I'll change my mind and retreat back to the comforts of our hotel room. It's now or never.

Walking hand in hand with Harry, we cross the street and meander over towards the front door of the village home. My breathing is getting heavier and laboured as we make the treacherous journey. Harry takes notice, gripping my hand tightly.

"Do you want me to wait outside or come with you?"

"If you think I'm going in there alone, you're mad." I tell him, letting out a shaky breath as I raise my fist to the wooden door, knocking lightly as if not wanting the person on the other end to hear.

We're only left in silence for a couple moments before the door swings open, revealing a woman in her thirties with tired eyes and a frown on her lips. Shocked, my eyes widen and I almost fall back against the firm body standing slightly behind me.

Everything in my body is shaking over the fact that this could very well be my mother. We share the same hair colour, nose shape, and even same shaped face. In that moment I feel like passing out onto the floor or bursting into tears.

"Can I help you?" She asks in a thick Scottish accent, her eyes scanning both Harry and I up and down.

"Uh, I, um, I -" My words come out jumbled, messy, and weak.

What do you say to the woman standing before you who is most likely the woman that birthed you when she was in her teens and then gave you up?

"Hello," Harry speaks up, stepping to my side to greet the woman before us, "we're looking for Grace Reid, does she live here by any chance?" The frown on the woman's face deepens as she takes in Harry's words, momentarily shaking her head.

"She hasn't lived here in a long time." The woman crosses her arms over her chest, leaning against the doorframe carefully.

"Oh, our apologies; we had no idea. Could you perhaps point us in the direction of where she might be?" Again, the woman frowns, her eyes settling on me, though I've yet to make a sound. She looks curiously at me, studying me closely before her eyes fit back to Harry.

"Aye, the cemetery at the edge of Kinmylies. She died, four years ago." Shocked my eyes double in size as my hand comes up to cover my mouth to keep the gasp in that wants to be released.

I knew I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up.

My time for mourning my lost, biological mother whom I've practically never met is short lived. I could have sworn the striking resemblance between this woman and I was some sort of sign; perhaps she's related to Grace in someway.