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He waved and slowly pulled his taxi away. I stared for a few moments, taking everything in. Inverness was a very modern looking place housing some old brick architecture here and there in the city. I felt like I was whisked away by the faeries and taken into a storybook. It was beautiful and took my breath away.
Or that could be the chill from this gloomy day. My breaths came out in white puffs the moment I got off the plane. I’m glad I had packed all of my coats and sweaters for this trip. Main was cold, but there was just something different here that I couldn’t put my finger on.
I pulled out my phone and checked the local map on my screen to make sure which home on this street belonged to my great aunt Ainsley. I didn’t have to wonder long as an older woman with silver streaked brown hair, bundled in a very warm winter coat came down one of the driveways.
“Fenella? Is that you, sweetie?” came an older feminine voice.
My name spoken in its entirety had been constant these days throughout all the legal paperwork. I missed my nickname and now there was no one around to say it anymore.
Shaking off my morose thoughts, I tried for a happier expression even though I felt anything but on the inside. “Great Aunty Ainsley?”
She gave me a bright smile that warmed my heart. Her eyes shimmered with life as she closed the distance and wrapped me in a loving embrace. The tears I thought were dried up, opened like the floodgates and I bursted into a sob on her shoulder. She was a tiny thing, standing to my armpit but her presence in my life at this moment was monumentous. Stooped over, I hugged her back tightly. The fluff of her coat made her feel like a warm marshmallow of goodness. She smelled like Christmas and mint.
“There, there. Ya have a good greet. Let it all oot.” She patted my back and I tried my best to make my tears stop falling by taking in deep, slow breaths. “Come inside and I can make you some hot tea to warm up your bones. How was your trip? Everything went okay?”
She spoke to me as if she had known me all my life and it was a bit startling but also needed. It eased my fears of any awkwardness I may have had between us.
I gave her a genuine small smile. “It was alright. I’ve never been on such a long journey before. It’s my first overseas trip,” I admitted.
Her face crinkled into a larger smile if that was possible. She boomed with bubbly confidence. “Then you’ve chosen the perfect place. Inverness is beautiful and the capital of the highlands.” She waved her hand around as if she was the spokesperson for her town. “It’s so rich in history, there are plenty of places we can visit to keep ya busy.”
I sniffled and held back a small laugh as we walked up her dirt driveway and crossed the threshold of her humble home. There was a cute little purple hatchback car parked on the side. “Thank you, Great—”
“Oh hush dear. Just call me Aunt Ainsley. That ‘great’ makes me feel like an old hag lost in the woods after becoming a spinster.”
I bursted out laughing at the visual through the residual tears. She joined in as she ushered me to her couch before flitting through her little kitchen.
Her home was adorned with warm earthy tones. Pictures of herself and a very fat cat sat on the mantle over her fireplace. I looked around but didn’t see a cat anywhere and wondered if he was gone or if he was just hiding.
“Your mother spoke a lot about ya but her descriptions didn’t do ya any justice,” her voice floated from behind the separating wall.
Her couch was comfortable and covered with a large crochet blanket. Maybe that was something I could pick up while I was out here. I still wasn’t sure how long I was visiting. Poor Uncle Jerome. He probably had other obligations he needed to tend to beside the extra one I gave him.
“What? I didn’t know you two kept in contact. She never called anyone but some of the women in town from what I remember,” I told her.
Her head popped out from the kitchen followed by a tray with two cups and a teapot. “She wrote to me during her more memorable times. When she met your father—” She placed the tray in front of us on a coffee table. “—when she became pregnant, and when she had you. I still have some of your baby pictures somewhere.”
I took off my jacket and laid it beside me on the arm of the couch. “She did?”
The woman let out a snorting laugh and I quirked an eyebrow, wondering what inside joke I was missing. “Ah, and I remember how tickled I was to know she named you Fenella.”
My face flushed and I groaned. I was born with the skin condition vitiligo. A light patch sat on my right shoulder without pigmentation. The loose collar of the knitted sweater I had on hung over my shoulder and I quickly tried to pull it to cover it back up. My mother had a strange sense of humor naming me ‘white shoulder’. As much as it annoyed me at the moment, I would do anything to have her back—to have both of them back.
Aunt Ainsley leaned over and stopped me with her hand. “Gonnae no dae that, there is nothing to be embarrassed about Fenella. You are beautiful the way God made you.”
My face heated up again but this time I listened. I let my sweater fall back to where it was. I had always covered myself up when I was younger after some of the kids made fun of me. I recently went on a small online shopping spree after grieving, hoping it would cheer me up. This sweater looked so beautiful on the model who had the biggest grin. I was hoping it would make me smile as well.
“Thank you, Aunty.” Her personality was magnetic. You couldn’t help but want to be around her to soak up whatever energy she was putting out.
“There, now. That’s the kind of smile I wanted to see. Your curls are magnificent, sweetie. Seems like your mother gave ya a lot of her beauty, ya remind me so much of her.”
I chuckled as I grabbed one of the steaming cups and brought it to my lap. “My mother was white as a ghost. I’m far from that.”
“Yes, well,” she quipped as I took in a hot sip of my tea. I felt it travel all the way down to my empty stomach. “I suppose there is some of your father in you here and there.”
I laughed at her antics. My skin was as brown as my father’s with red undertones instead of his cool ones. There was no mistaking me for anyonebutDeion Johnson’s daughter.
“If you’re not too tired, we can get a bite to eat in the city and check oot some sights to take your mind off things. Does that sound good to ya?”
