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With trembling fingers, she knocked on the door. Waited. Knocked again.
“Yes?” The breathless word and the door swinging open, came at the same time. A beautiful woman, a good half-head taller than Paige, tucked an auburn curl behind her ear and smiled down at Paige. “Can I help you? If it’s about a furniture order, Reggie is out in the sho—”
The woman paused and Paige shifted under her perusal as her pretty eyes transformed from friendly, to concerned. “No. I can see that’s not it, at all.” She stepped back and swung the door wider. “Please. Come inside. I just made some lemonade. Let me get you some while you tell me what brings you to our little glen. Your expression suggests you’re troubled about something.”
No point in denying that, Paige considered, following her into a huge kitchen that opened to a warm, inviting living room. The eclectic pieces of furniture and art in both rooms, and an enormous panel of windows that brought the outdoors in, made the rooms feel timeless.
She’d experienced a lot of kitchens and living rooms during her years in the foster care system. Some nice. Some not. But nothing she’d experienced was as welcoming, as comforting, as this. Peace and serenity seemed to hang in this house like wallpaper.
“Please, sit.” The woman gestured toward a kitchen nook where a small table sat near a window, as she filled glasses with ice and lemonade.
Paige was still admiring the casual elegance of the rooms when the woman joined her with their drinks and a small plate of crackers and cheese.
“We aren’t located on the way to anywhere,” the woman commented, placing one of the glasses in front of Paige, “so I know you’ve traveled a good distance to get here. I thought you might need some refreshment while you tell me how I can help you.” She took a small sip of her own lemonade. “I’m Lauren, by the way. Lauren McColl. And you are?”
Paige sat her bag aside but held tight to her waning courage. “I’m Paige Williams. From Denver. That’s in the United States,” she added nervously.
“Yes,” Lauren chuckled lightly. “I know. I’m originally from New York. But I fell in love with Scotland when I visited my aunt.” She gestured to her surroundings. “This was her home. But best of all, I fell in love with my very own Highlander. And here we are,” she laughed, “living happily ever after.” She took another sip of lemonade, studying Paige over the rim of the glass before setting it aside. “But you didn’t come all this way to hear my story. Why don’t you tell me yours?”
Paige dropped her gaze. She’d rehearsed a whole litany of explanations all the way from home, but nothing seemed appropriate. Reaching for her bag, she pulled out the tattered postcard. “Maybe I should start with this.”
She’d put it in a plastic zip-bag inside a cardboard folder to keep it from getting any more worn. Removing it as gently as possible, she handed the card to Lauren.
“I’m searching for my brother. That’s the last correspondence I received from him. You can see it’s dated several months ago. I’ve worn it out reading and studying it for some clue I might have missed that could tell me why he suddenly stopped writing.”
Paige picked up her lemonade and put it down again, afraid her trembling fingers would jostle the contents. “Austin has spent the last several years backpacking across Europe. The last few postcards he sent talked about how much he was enjoying Scotland. He loves rappelling the cliffs and likes to hike in remote areas. And lately, he’d even begun exploring caves.Spelunking, he called it. Austin claimed because he was out of range so much, cell phones rarely worked, so he stopped carrying one.”
Shrugging, she bit her bottom lip to keep her chin from trembling. “He also believed they were a waste of what little money he had. Generally, he just moved from place to place until he got low on money, then he’d find a temporary odd job to fund his next few weeks of travel. Sometimes, when he was working in one place for a few days, he’d call to make sure I was okay. Those calls were unpredictable and quite rare. But not the postcards. They arrived every month like clockwork. That’s how I knew he was all right.”
Needing to banish the lump forming in her throat, Paige used both hands to steady the glass of lemonade to take a cooling sip. “It isn’t like him to stay out of touch. So, when the first month passed without my receiving any form of communication, I became worried. When the second month passed, I knew something was terribly w-wrong.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she took a steadying breath. “By the third month, I became frantic. That’s when I reported him missing.”
Paige watched Lauren study the post card, handling it with care. “Loch Ness,” Lauren observed, looking at the picture on the front. “That’s the closest loch to us. Do you think he was there? Is that what brings you here?”
“Read the back, please.”
Lauren turned it over, squinting at the faded writing. Slowly, she read it aloud.
Hey sis! Scotland is amazing! Heard about this fantastic rappelling spot, complete with a cave and a waterfall. A literal trifecta in an excellent remote location. Private property, though. Hoping for permission to access it from the owner, Reginald McColl. Wish me luck.
Hope all is well with you. Love you beyond reason. Can’t wait until we’re together again. A&PF.
-Austin
Lauren’s eyes flew to hers. “You think he came here? If he did, I’m afraid I don’t remember. Although, I think I’d remember someone making such an unusual request. To my knowledge, no one has ever asked to rappel the crag. It’s possible, however, that he spoke with Reggie.”
She pulled her cell phone from her back pocket and tapped it a few times. “Hey, love. Can you come to the house for a minute? Yes. Right away, please.” She hung up and nudged the cheese and crackers closer. “He’s just in his workshop. He’ll be right here.”
Gently laying the postcard aside, Lauren indicated the letters above Austin’s signature. “What does A&PF stand for?”
Paige tried to smile despite the quiver in her chin. She couldn’t possibly explain the years of hopes and dreams attached to that symbol.
“It stands for Austin and Paige, Forever,” she whispered, gathering her bag to her chest. “When Austin and I entered the Foster Care System, they wouldn’t let us stay together. But Austin told me not to worry. He promised to do everything in his power to get us back together. He wrote those letters on a scrap of paper and said it was our secret code. And when I looked at it, I’d know he was working really hard for us, so no one would ever separate us again.”
“Oh, my,” Lauren murmured. “How old were you?”
“Austin was ten and I was six.” She sighed, remembering that day as if it were mere moments ago. “I still have that scrap of paper tucked away.”
* * *
