3. Courtney
CHAPTER 3
COURTNEY
“ Y ou sure you want to do this?” Ginny pauses before turning on the light in my grandma’s room.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “I can’t sit around doing nothing.”
It’s only the day after my grandmother’s funeral, but with my time off from work, there’s little for me to do. Our friends have already cleaned the house from top to bottom, and the fridge is full of enough meals to last for weeks. I’ve tried sitting around, watching movies; tried going for walks. There’s always this empty ache in my chest, though, and the best way I can think of getting rid of it is by getting busy.
So here we are, about to go through my grandmother’s stuff. A part of me wants to never touch this room again, to just leave it exactly as it is until the house falls down around it. That’s not realistic, though, and at least I can take her clothes and donate them to the shelter.
Ginny turns the light on, and we step into the immaculate room. It’s still shocking to me that the woman who lived in this bare bedroom had a huge sapphire necklace squirreled away. What’s more, how come she never told me about it?
“Where do you want to start?” Ginny asks.
“Her bedside tables.”
I pick up a well-worn paperback novel from the nightstand, its spine creased from countless reads, and place it gently into one of the cardboard boxes we brought along.
“Are you sure this is all she had?” Ginny asks, her voice echoing slightly in the nearly bare room.
I nod, dusting off my hands on my jeans. “Yeah, Grandma Anna was always a minimalist. Said she never needed much to be happy.”
Ginny lifts a delicate porcelain figurine from the dresser, examining it before wrapping it carefully in bubble wrap. “She had good taste, though. Everything feels so… curated.”
As we move methodically around the room, the task feels less like a chore and more like a final act of love — a way to honor the memories held within these walls. Ginny pauses by the closet, pulling out a few hangers with clothes that smell faintly of lavender and nostalgia.
“Did she leave you anything special?” Ginny’s eyes meet mine, curious and sympathetic.
I hesitate for a moment, the void of loss still so painful in my chest. “Actually, yes.”
I walk over to the bed and reach under the pillow, retrieving the object that’s been on my mind all day. I kept it in here last night because it felt strange to have it in my own room. Keeping it in here felt like a kind of homage to my grandma.
I can feel Ginny’s gaze on me as I unwrap the cloth to reveal the necklace inside. The sapphire pendant catches the light, sending tiny blue reflections dancing across the walls.
“Wow, that’s stunning,” she breathes, leaning closer.
“I didn’t even know she had it,” I say, the cool gemstone slipping between my fingers. “I don’t know anything about it, but… there’s a story behind it.”
“A story?” Ginny’s interest is piqued, her love for a good mystery written all over her face.
“Grandma never talked much about her past, but she left me this, so it had to be special for her, you know? But what does it… could it have to do with her old home…?” My words trail off as I look at the sapphire, wondering about the untold tales it might hold.
“Old home? You mean Bergovia?”
“Yeah, that’s the place. But she never elaborated. And now…” I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Now I guess I’ll never know.”
“Or maybe you will,” Ginny says softly, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
I allow myself a small smile, finding comfort in her optimism.
Putting the necklace away, I reach for a battered shoebox tucked in the corner of the closet, dust motes dancing in the shaft of sunlight as I pull it into my lap. Ginny sits cross-legged on the carpet beside me, her eyes curious and attentive.
“Let’s see what’s in here,” I murmur, as I ease the lid off the box.
Inside, the past spills out in a cascade of black and white — a collection of photographs, edges softened by time. My fingers stumble upon a picture of my grandma, her youthful face radiant with a smile that mirrors my own. She’s a young teen, standing in front of a quaint stone building, clad in clothing that seems borrowed from another era.
“Look at this,” I say, holding the photo out to Ginny. The image trembles slightly in my grasp. “This is… it’s Bergovia. It must have been not long before she moved to Texas.”
“Wow, she looks so young. And happy.”
“Grandma never talked about her life there.” A pang of regret threads through my voice, the sorrow of missed stories and unasked questions. “I don’t even know why she left or what her life was like before coming here.”
“Maybe you could find out,” Ginny suggests gently, returning the photo to me. “Have you ever thought about going there? Seeing if you can find anything out about her family?”
I nod, tracing the outline of the stone building behind Grandma’s figure. It feels like a signpost, pointing toward a path I’ve yet to explore.
“Actually, that might be just what I need,” I confess, the idea unfurling like a bloom within me. “To go there, to Bergovia. I mean, I’ve already taken time off for the funeral, and I haven’t used any vacation days this year…”
“Then it’s settled!” Ginny declares, her enthusiasm infectious. “You should definitely go. Discover your grandmother’s secrets, walk where she walked. Who knows what you might find out?”
“Who knows indeed,” I echo, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside me. Bergovia, a place that had been no more than a name, suddenly feels like a beacon calling me forward.
“Maybe that necklace holds the key,” I muse, half-jokingly, but the thought lingers, heavy with possibility.
“Perhaps.” She grins. “And you’ll never know unless you go.”
“Unless I go,” I repeat, the decision crystallizing.
I slide the lid back onto the shoebox, photographs and memories safe within, my heart pounding with the thrill of spontaneous adventure. “Hey, why don’t you come with me?”
The invitation hangs between us, buoyed by hope.
Ginny’s eyes widen, flattered and surprised, but then she shakes her head. “Oh, Courtney, I’d love to, but…” She sighs, her voice trailing off as she glances towards the door that leads to the rest of her life waiting outside the room. “I’ve got the shop, and those two foster dogs, remember? Benji’s still recovering from surgery, and Luna is so skittish; they need someone familiar right now.”
“Of course,” I nod, understanding completely. “Your dog-grooming empire can’t run without its queen.”
A laugh escapes me, softening the sting of disappointment. Ginny’s dedication to her work and the animals she cares for has always been something I admire about her.
Her smile is encouraging as she nudges me gently. “But you, my dear, are free as a bird. You need this. For your grandma. For yourself.”
“Thanks, Gin. I think… I’m gonna get tickets right now.”
If I don’t, I’ll lose my nerve. I’ve never taken a vacation alone, and I need to strike while the iron is hot, before I come up with excuses to not go.
“Do it,” Ginny says.
Without another word, I open the browser on my phone and do a search for plane tickets. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I select the dates, choose a flight, and fill in my details.
And then, with a final click, it’s done. I exhale a shaky breath — my ticket to Bergovia is booked.
“I’m leaving in two days,” I announce.
I’m really doing this. Alone.
A mixture of pride and trepidation pulses through me. I offer up a silent promise to Grandma Anna: I’m coming to find your story, to walk the streets you walked, to breathe the air you breathed.
Ginny claps her hands in excitement.
“Here I come, Bergovia,” I murmur, a smile touching my lips, my heart already en route to the land of sapphire secrets.