Without A Trace: Inside The Lines Part 16

"Do you still talk to her?"

She nods. "Not often. I know how you feel, and I totally agree with you-she didn't protect you, or us, really. But..."

"She's weak, Zi. I understand that now. It's not like she meant to hurt us."

"No, she didn't. So I keep in touch, visit her once a year on Thanksgiving. She's all alone now, so I feel like it's a bit of a good deed, if you will."

"It is. At the risk of sounding like an a.s.s, I'm really proud of you."

Her face beams at my comment. "Thanks."

"And apparently, owning our own businesses runs in the family." I smirk.

She laughs, then nods. "Yep. I never thought I could make White Peony work, but it's been two years. I'm even considering expanding and opening another store."

"That's awesome."

We catch up on more details about her life this time, and I learn she's been married and divorced, had three miscarriages, and hated working in public relations, which is what she got a college degree in. White Peony offers custom lingerie fittings, but she sells an a.s.sortment of female focused s.e.x items in the back.

It's a relief to actually sit across from her, listen to her stories, and know that she's still my sister, even if I've dropped the ball for all these years.

Before I leave, she takes my hand. "I want you to know something. I understood why you left. It was hard on me, probably harder on Blue, to be honest, as she idolized you."

My eyes widen, and she nods.

"She missed you terribly, but I think even she knew what was going on. Or at least, parts of it. It wasn't your fault, Lux. None of it. And even though I've missed you terribly, I knew you'd come back around when it was time."

"How the f.u.c.k did you end up so zen?" I ask, chuckling.

"I don't know that I'm zen, but I had a lot of therapy, and I do a lot of yoga." She flashes me her signature smile. "Seriously. I needed time to process things afterwards too. And then after my divorce...well, let's just say, I needed to get away from everything for a while. I don't want you to feel guilty or bad about things. We weren't your responsibility-we had a mother with a mental illness. Hate her or love her, she couldn't help herself. And you, me, and Blue...we made it. Maybe not as easily as we would have liked, and not without some scars, but we survived."

I clasp her fingers tightly. "Thanks. I've wanted to do this for a long time. I was just...scared, I guess."

I don't want to leave, but she has a bra fitting appointment soon, so we walk to the car. "You know, I've got a Charlie Brown Christmas tree all set up at home. You are welcome to join me for the holidays."

"I'll do you one better. I celebrate with Noah and Ella every year. Why don't you join us? They'll love you, and I'd really like you to meet them. They've been like family to me, and I'm pretty sure we're taking adoptees."

Her eyes brighten. "That sounds lovely."

We exchange phone numbers, and when she hugs me, I can feel the depth of her emotions in her tight embrace.

"Love you, Lux. Always."

I pull her face down to kiss her forehead. "Love you, Zizi Baby." I haven't said her nickname in years, but it rolls off my tongue. "Thanks for not hating me."

My drive home carries mixed emotions. I am beyond thrilled to have seen one of my sisters. I'll reach out to Blue, but according to Zi, she doesn't keep in touch with anyone and is pretty closed off. I'm going to try anyway. One family puzzle piece at a time, though.

Despite my joy over seeing my sister, I can't seem to shake the sadness that clouds my heart. With Christmas approaching, I feel the lack of being "settled," and while I never thought I'd want that for myself, being with someone like Fin awakened that need in me. And I don't know how to answer it yet.

Chapter 28.

Decisions It's three days before Christmas, and Ian and Ella have put on a huge party. Food, gifts, games, as only a professional event planner knows how to do. Because Ian's extended family lives in upstate New York, Ian and Ella decided to do a small, private celebration on Christmas Day and spend the few days prior visiting with family and friends. Ian's mother and father have traveled to Ian and Ella's. They're incredibly gracious people and down to earth, despite their wealth, and I always enjoy being with them. The only thing that would make this holiday more perfect...would be someone that I know I can't have.

It's been a little over a year since I saw Fin last. No contact, not even a text. But then, I'd wanted it that way, for both of us. Watching Ian and Ella, listening to Noah tease us about another possible "serious" girlfriend, holding Mia and watching as she totters around the room now...the moments are bittersweet. I couldn't ask for a more wonderful group of people to be part of, but I'm sad I've made my life this way, that I pushed Fin away when I should have pulled him into me, told him about my issues, been more honest. I wasn't facing things myself at the time, though. Even now, I'm still working through the mess of it all.

We've opened gifts, eaten mounds of food, and we're sitting around the piano singing Christmas songs while Ian's mom plays, when Ella and I break off to set up for games.

"I'm guessing you decided not to take me up on my Christmas gift last year," she says quietly as we stoke the fireplace in the family room before dragging out the tables.

I raise an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Your gift-the one I gave you that night at the steakhouse. You never used it, so I'm a.s.suming you've made your peace with it."

"I don't...Oh!" I realize she's referring to the envelope she gave me that night. "s.h.i.t, I never opened it."

"Lux!" She shakes her head. "How do you forget to open a present?" Her disbelief is tinged with humor. "Where is it?"

I think for a moment. "I think it's still in the side pocket of my purse." Given all that happened this year, getting a new handbag was the least of my concerns, so I'm still using the same one.

I know, I know-don't judge. It's been a busy year.

I find my bag in their coat closet, as well as the slightly crumpled envelope Ella had given me, tucked away in the side pocket. Ripping it open, I discover a tri-folded voucher for a first cla.s.s, round-trip airfare to the destination of my choosing. I stare at the brightly colored form for several minutes before returning inside.

Ella is prepping the next round of drinks in the kitchen.

"I don't know what to say, Ells." I lay the voucher on the kitchen's island, smoothing the surface over and over again with my hands. "I can't believe I didn't see this."

"I can't believe you didn't, either," she teases, but then she sobers and stands across from me. "I want you to be happy, Lux. If you don't want to be with him, that's fine. But I wanted to make sure there are no excuses."

I step back and meet her gaze. "What if I've waited too long?"

She doesn't say anything.

"I told him I couldn't love him." I shake my head, marveling at my foolishness. "What if I'm still just as screwed up as I was before?"

She lays her hands on my mine, stopping my incessant stroking of the voucher. "None of us are perfect. I wasn't when I married Ian. G.o.d, I was a nightmare." We both grin as we recall a drinking bender the night before her wedding, wherein she nearly called it off. "And you are working on your issues. Believe it or not, Fin probably has a few of his own problems beneath all that Scottish hotness and charm. You'll never know if you have a chance to learn and grow and screw up together if you don't go find him."

"What if he's with someone else? Or married?" My stomach rolls on itself at the thought.

Ella, always practical, shrugs. "Then at least you know. And you can let it go, knowing that it wasn't meant to be. Right now, we're just guessing."

I stand there, mulling the enormity of this idea over. "Jesus. I'm going to get on a plane and go do this?" I mean it as a question, but then it's not one. "G.o.d, that means I have to fly."

She nods, a smile playing across her lips. "Yep, you are. And you'll white-knuckle it the whole way. And that voucher? It will buy any ticket you want, any day you want it. But it's going to expire tomorrow."

We barely take a breath before we're both scrambling for the study and her laptop.

Chapter 29.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas I flew to Mexico once, the summer after I graduated college. And one of my boyfriends and I headed down to the Caymans a few years ago. Hm...maybe more than a few years...

Nonetheless, I've never been to Europe. I didn't remember how intense international travel was (not to mention my abject fear of being in the air), the questions you get asked at the entry point, the changing planes and airports, and the strangeness of a new culture. In Edinburgh, even though they're speaking English, the thick Scottish burr takes a bit to get used to. When I hear it, my heart squeezes with the memory of another deep, heavily accented voice, and I grip my luggage handle tighter.

The sky is gray with rain, and as I get into my rented car, cold droplets pepper my cheeks.

Kirkliston isn't that far from the airport, but driving on the opposite side of the road takes a bit of focus. After nearly twenty hours of travel-courtesy of a last minute reservation and three connecting flights-I'm running on adrenaline, and I've been awake over twenty-four hours. But my curiosity over my new surroundings wins out. The urban sprawl of Edinburgh gives way to lush farmland. I try to focus on that, rather than the way my heart pounds in my ears the closer I get, and the intense yearning in my gut for balance and an answer to the constant question that tears me up inside.

Is there a chance?

The town of Kirkliston holds tiny homes interspersed with commerce-driven lots, and ancient stone churches, one with a huge stone spire and surrounded by grave sites, greet tourists. I booked a bed and breakfast for two nights. I figured that would be long enough to either find Fin and get an answer...or give up and go home.

Parking on the street, I pull my woolen coat tighter. There's a chill in the air, and I haven't any clue what to do next. You'd think finding someone you love would be easy, especially in our uber-connected culture. In this case, it's a bit challenging. Since Fin doesn't use Facebook or take part in social media, there was little to help me online. His parents own a dry cleaning shop, and I figured I'd start there as there was only one listed in Kirkliston according to my research. It's Christmas Eve, so most places are closed. And now, standing outside the quaint inn I've booked and breathing in the fresh, crisp air, I realize nothing is going to happen without food...and then sleep.

As I walk the narrow streets of this small town, I'm most impressed by how old it is. Living in a city where technology has its own zip code, I don't often see old architecture and crumbling rock. The people are friendly, most nodding and smiling as I pa.s.s them. According to my printed map, the cleaners his parents own is just ahead. When I spy the entrance, a sign posted warns that they're closed until the new year.

Seeing that today is Christmas, I'm not surprised. Given that I had only twenty four hours in which to book my ticket, it's not like I had a lot of options. Still...perhaps coming to a strange country with no real leads or contacts was not the best idea.

While on the plane, I'd done some searching for his parents' address, but smart people that they are, all of their information is unlisted. And of course, Fin barely registers on Google. The only saving grace was that he played on a local football team, and the team listed all their players on their website. Whether he still lives here with his folks seems unlikely, but it's all I've got. Kirkliston is a tiny town, so it can't be that hard to find someone, a.s.suming he's still here...

There's enough of a cold breeze to have me scurrying for the only open business on the street: a small restaurant. I order a coffee at the counter and examine the local advertis.e.m.e.nts.

"Can I get ye anything else, dear?"

I look up at the small woman, her gray hair pulled into a bun on top of her head. "No, I'm fine."

"Sound like ye're a bit of an American, then?"

I smile at her curiosity. "A bit."

She chuckles. "Aye, ye are. Ye're here for pleasure then? A bit of a holiday?"

"No, I'm actually here looking for someone."

"A small town like Kirkliston, I wouldn't think it would be hard to find anyone." She leans her heft against the counter, tucking herself between two stools beside me. I'm the only customer.

"You wouldn't think. Since most places are closed..."

"Who're ye looking for? I've lived here nearly ten years; I can probably help ye."

I take a sip of my coffee. "The MacKenzies who own the cleaners."

She eyes me curiously. "Aye, what do you want them for, then?"

What to say? I decide the truth is the way to go. "I'm actually trying to find Fin MacKenzie. He and I...well, we used to date. A while ago. And I made a bit of a mess of things, so I'm trying to find him and make it right. Or try to, at least." Nothing like sharing one of your biggest blunders with a complete stranger, but the admission lightens the heaviness in my chest.

She pats my hand, a sympathetic look in her eyes. "I've b.u.g.g.e.red things up a time or two myself, so I ken the feeling. Let's see, MacKenzie's a common enough name around here, and I canna say I know the folks who own the cleaners, but Fin MacKenzie I know well. He's a local footballer, ye ken?"

I nod. "Yes, he is. Does he live around here?"

"Canna say..." She thinks for a moment. "Och, I'm an ol' fool! The local team, they always play a holiday game, unofficial, of course, down on the Douglas's field. Been doing it since my own Samuel was a tyke. Ye should go out there. Ye might find him there, if he's in town for the holiday."

I feel a thrill of hope, but even though I do my best to follow her directions, I lose my way within minutes. So I follow the street I'm on in hopes that it will eventually lead to one of the streets she mentioned. Besides, it's Christmas, and this might be a fool's journey. I should enjoy the day and its brisk air, right? Embrace what comes, as my therapist encourages me to say.

The homes around me are decorated for Christmas, and while there are few people outside, the one or two I see wave and wish me a "Happy Christmas."

Up ahead, there's a wide field, and I hear the unmistakable shouts of men playing a sport. When I round the last house, I discover a horde of them, or so it seems, kicking a black and white ball out in the middle of the empty field. I lose count of how many are on the field, but at least a dozen and a half, playing with focus and abandon, wearing a mishmash of t-shirts, shorts, sweatpants, and even jeans. A few onlookers cheer and coach from the sidelines.

While I've never been much of a sports fan, watching their impressive footwork holds me in place. It's impossible to guess at ages from this distance, but they are agile and quick. I scan the teams, but no one looks familiar. My heart sinks, but then one of them calls out in victory. I would know that voice anywhere. His dark copper hair's long, nearly touching his shoulders, and he's wearing a beanie, so it was easy to miss him. But his height sets him apart, and when he turns, making a play for the ball, I get a clear view of his face. My breath catches in my throat.

He looks, of course, the same, but there's something different about him. I can't place just what. Maybe it's the time apart. I settle against a small shed just off the road, and I can't take my eyes away from the tall baller who's having the time of his life, picking good-naturedly on another player and diving after a ball when he takes over the goalie position. After a half hour or so, I'm frozen to the bone, and I nearly collapse with grat.i.tude when they disperse, collecting shed clothing, and head off en ma.s.se towards parked cars. I lose my nerve. I've waited too long to do this. The man I just watched is happy, content, and probably has a girl waiting for him back home. But the fear that I might have made a huge mistake by coming here wars with my need to talk to him, to be in the same s.p.a.ce with him.

A last minute decision, I run after them, my Doc Martens not much of a match for their long strides. As they pile in cars to leave, I'm too far away to reach them.

I'm bent over in the middle of the field, trying to catch my breath.

"Lux?"

I hear his shout and glance up. Fin steps out of one of the cars. Unsure what to do, I wave, feeling like a fool.

He says something to his friends, then starts towards me. He's in basketball shorts, and he's pulled his leather jacket on over his long-sleeve t-shirt. His face wears a mask of confusion and, thankfully, a slight smile when he finally reaches me. "Lux, what are ye doing here?" His voice holds a bit of wonderment, which gives me hope.

This is the part I didn't plan out very well. "Merry Christmas?" I sound like an idiot.

"Aye, well, yeah, Merry Christmas to ye too." He grins, and shyness rises up between us. "Are ye here for the holiday?"

"Yes. No." I shake my head, trying to clear it. "I'm here for you." I bite my lip. "To find you, I mean."

"Ye found me. Not particularly hard to do in this place." His aquamarine eyes capture mine as they always have, and he steps back. "Ye're going to freeze out here." He shrugs out of his coat, then lifts it over me to tuck around my shoulders.

He smells clean, a little sweaty, and the fragrance I remember tortures my senses. "I don't want to interrupt your time with your friends. I can come back later." Two cars have pulled out, but the others are still there, engines running.

He seems to sense my hesitance, and perhaps even the reason. So he waves to them, shouts something about catching up with them later, and then turns to me. "Let's walk to the diner, then. We can warm up."

We fall into step, and he guides our way. We're silent on the walk, as though we're both a little afraid to break the precious s.p.a.ce with words.

Inside the toasty diner, we take a table, and the waitress smiles heartily and winks at me. "I'll get ye some coffee, then."