Winter's Kiss (Summer Rain #2)

XVII ~ Outside In

{That Was Then ~ Isaac Gracie}

...She said she gave me all she could, loved me better than she should, now I find it hard to leave...

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7th November 

ELLIOT

   In the weeks since Benjamin had returned to my life, like a ghostly echo of a lifetime I both ached for and wished to forget, he had become quite the frequent visitor within the walls of my apartment. Each time he came over, always with an excuse like a bottle of scotch or some other veiling reason, we always ended up talking about Poppy. The thought of my sister out there in the world, alone, kept me up at night, a weight bearing down on my chest that I hadn't wanted to linger too long thinking about. Benjamin wanted my help to find her, and of course, I wanted nothing more. 

   The late afternoon dimness had cast the apartment in a dull kind of darkness. I flicked a lamp on, to bring some colour back into the room. The floor was littered with documents, photos, links and avenues of where she could be, what she could be doing. All roads, it seemed, were leading nowhere. 

   "I've been trying to get some contacts in the force, college friends, to search her through the system," Benjamin continued, explaining his latest plan of action. 

   I poured him another whiskey. 

   "What kind of search? Arrest records?" I asked. 

   "I don't know, anything would help us," he shrugged.

     I admired his determination. It made me feel a pang of guilt that I wish I had done more or had known sooner. 

   "She's always been the smartest of the three of us," I told him, handing him his whiskey, the ice hitting off the glass with its distinctive sound. "We're going to find her."

   "And if we don't?"

    He turned to look at me. I gave him a look to shut down that nagging voice. We were going to find her. He turned back to his glass of copper coloured scotch. I hunkered down onto my knees, looking over the documents, the different leads, re-reading each scribbled note and studying each photo again, hoping my eyes had missed something useful. 

   "She's the smartest, but she's also the youngest," Benjamin sighed. "No one just disappears."

   "She'll turn up," I replied, comforting him, but part of me needed to cling to the positive, too. "Benjamin, she's going to be okay. We're going to find her, and she's going to laugh at us for worrying so much."

    "She was so unhappy, Elliot," he shook his head. "She wouldn't talk to me, or talk about you, or do anything but what we asked her not to."

    "That's not the Poppy I know," I told him, unsure of how to take his words. 

    "She was so... Different," he told me. "And she drifted further and further away until she said she couldn't take it anymore, and she left."

   "And you just let her?" I asked, a note of judgement in my voice, that I regretted as soon as I heard it. 

   "She didn't ask permission, she left a note," he told me. "She was eighteen, she could do whatever she wanted, and she wanted to leave it all behind."

     The weight in my chest had returned, and I sat back by the window, trying not to let the worry overwhelm me. 

   "I should have taken her with me," I confessed. "If I had taken her to London--"

   "You couldn't have afforded to live there and take care of her," he cut me off. "This is not your fault." 

   "What kind of brother lets this happen?"

   "Stop it, Elliot," Benjamin berated me. "We can sit and pass blame until we get through every bottle of scotch this side of central park, but it won't bring Poppy back."

   "You're saying it like she's dead," I shot back. "She's not dead."

   "She might as well be a ghost right now!" Benjamin slammed his whiskey glass down in frustration. "There's nothing. No trace."

  "Maybe we need to give it a rest for tonight," I sighed, the tiredness in my voice echoing around the chilly apartment air. Benjamin nodded, agreeing in his tired and thoughtful way. 

     He sipped at his whiskey some more, both of us lost in our own thoughts, most of the guilt of letting Poppy go. Of not being there to fix her sorrow, or mend her aching. It was the guilt that pushed me sometimes to get over myself and help Benjamin. I loved my sister. I loved her so much. But sometimes, in my own selfish way, I felt it easier to assume she was okay, and live in hope, rather than the knowledge of the truth. 

   "You're right," he stretched, standing as he gathered up his things. 

   "Keep me updated, Ben," I told him firmly. He could only nod in response. 

     I tidied away the whiskey bottle, now almost empty, and the glasses. Already the apartment felt lonely, and he hadn't even left yet. It was hard, sometimes, with all of the histories between us, and all of the pain, for us to know the right things to say without delving too deep into the crevasses of the past, into the scars and wounds we both bear. 

   He meandered his way over to grab his jacket from the rack near the door, his scuffing feet along the wooden floor coming to a steady stop as I washed the glasses, my mind thinking of what I would do when he left. What I could do to fill the hours before I should try, and fail, to sleep. 

   "Who's is this?" I heard his voice ask. 

   "What?"

   "The scarf? It's a bit feminine for you, is it not?" He asked again, a smirk of humour in his tone. 

     Ava. 

     Benjamin returned to my side, holding the green and black speckled scarf, a quizzical look on his face. Even in the movement near me, the smell of her perfume from the scarf wafted through my senses. 

   "It's Ava's," I nodded, taking it from him, feeling the soft fabric slip along with my fingers as I held it tight. 

   "Ava Bennett?" He asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "She was here?"

   "We're working together," I told him. "It's the job I came back to the states for."

   "You're joking," he laughed. "It's a small world, after all."

   "I've meant to give it back to her," I told him. "I just keep forgetting."

   "Call her up," he shrugged. "Take the scarf to her when you next see her."

   "She's been... Quiet," I told him. "Since Halloween."

   "Did something happen?" He asked, a playful edge to his voice. 

    "No, she came to the studio where I'd been practising, and we got to talking and decided to go for a few drinks since we had no Halloween plans," I told him, recounting the events. "It was nice to catch up with her, outside of our work. We were both drunk, and she said she couldn't go home because her brother had a girl over--"

    "So she stayed here?" He pushed. 

   "Yeah, on the couch," I nodded. "She forgot her scarf, and I haven't heard from her since."

   "Word of advice?" Benjamin spoke. I nodded. "Go and get her."

   "What? Come on, that was years ago." 

   "And she's back in your life," he continued. "Don't let her slip away again."

     And with that, he patted me on the back in that brotherly way, before exiting my apartment, leaving me with his words echoing with the door closed shut, and the feeling of Ava's scarf in my hand. A sign, possibly, of where I needed to go. What I needed to do. 

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