A Highlander in a Pickup

by Laura Trentham

  “And?”

  “And he said he didn’t know what to say, which is basically a rejection.”

  “That’s all you said? Stay in Highland? Why would he take such a huge risk without knowing how you feel?”

  “When the hell did you become the ‘enlightened male’?” Anna imbued as much sarcasm as possible into her air quotes. “I seem to recall you ditching your prom date when Monica crooked her little finger in your direction.”

  Holt had the grace to wince. “Monica was hot, and I was horny. That was a decade ago. I’ve learned a little something since then.”

  “Oh, really? Next you’re going to tell me that you’re putting in to be the next advice columnist for the Highland Sentinel.”

  Holt leveled her a look that shriveled her mockery. “I’ve learned what loneliness is, Anna, and if you care for Iain—if you love him—you need to tell him. Or you’ll regret it.”

  The rush of tears to her eyes burned, and she wiped an escapee away with the heel of her hand—angrily, defiantly, resigned. “What if he tells me he doesn’t feel the same way? That I was simply a fun distraction?”

  “At least you tried.” Holt put a bracing arm around her shoulders. “If the worst happens, give me a call, and we can soak our feelings in rum.”

  The sound coming out of her was half laugh, half sob. “Like a big, pathetic cake?”

  The lead singer of the Scunners took a bow, invited everyone back the next day for the dancing and pipe competitions, and headed off stage. Anna had too many details to handle to have an existential crisis of the heart.

  People milled about. Anna left Holt and acted like a sheepdog for the second time that evening, herding people toward the exit with a smile. High spirits abounded. The weather had held for the day, but the updated hourly forecast called for thunderstorms the next afternoon. Anna could only cross her fingers the lightning held off until after the ribbon ceremony.

  Two hours later, the parking areas were cleared, the crew had hauled off the trash, and the generators were shut down. Full darkness had overtaken the sky, and the chirp and buzz of insects replaced the crowds and music. It was both eerie and peaceful to see the once-crowded space empty.

  Anna gathered her courage and made her way toward the barn, where Iain cast a long shadow in the portable light. He had mucked the stalls, the product of which was in a wheelbarrow, and was distributing hay and oats to the animals.

  His T-shirt stuck to his back and the hair at his nape curled damply from his exertions. He paused when he caught sight of her at the door, then continued his work. The awkwardness that had sprung up between them was something new and unwelcome.

  Their relationship had gone through a gamut, beginning with shades of hostility, morphing into friendship, and finally culminating in a physical relationship. Her emotions had gotten tangled up along the journey, and the void he would leave behind would never be filled, no matter how many men came after him.

  “Hey.” It was as eloquent as she could manage at the moment.

  “The day went well enough, excepting Ozzie’s jailbreak.” His lips pulled into an expression that didn’t come close to qualifying as a smile.

  “The forecast has thunderstorms rolling in tomorrow afternoon. It’ll be touch-and-go.”

  “We’ll make it work.”

  She couldn’t stand the stilted atmosphere another second. She’d never admit it to Holt, but he was right. If she didn’t speak now … “Listen, about earlier—”

  “No. Let me.” Iain turned to her. “These last weeks in Highland—with you—have been like a dream. I’ve never felt like this.”

  Anna’s heart filled with helium and her lips trembled into a smile as he closed the distance between them.

  “But.” The word was a stiletto into her chest, bursting the lightness. “Cairndow is my home and where I belong.”

  “Highland is my home.” Why had she felt the need to say it out loud? It’s not like Iain had asked her to come with him.

  “I know. Highland needs you. You’re going to be mayor.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “The town would be fools if they don’t elect you.” He raised his hand, but dropped it to his side before making contact with her cheek. An invisible barrier had come between them.

  Anna took a step backward. “Has Ozzie recovered from her adventure?”

  “She’s no worse for wear, and I fixed the door so it’s not easily opened. The other option is a padlock.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. It wasn’t a malicious act.” Anna looked down at the list on her tablet and tapped randomly as if Iain were just another completed task. “I have Izzy’s checklist to finish, and then I think I’ll head back to my place for a solid night’s sleep.”

  At the spate of silence, her hands tightened on her tablet. She waited for the rising tension to break one of them, determined not to be the weak one. Finally, he said, “Aye. That’s probably for the best.”

  She smiled—at least she hoped it resembled a smile because her lips felt distorted and trembly—and walked off with as much dignity as she could muster, which would have barely registered on the Southern Scale of Steel Spines considering her squelchy sneakers, dirt-streaked shorts, and grassy hair.

  Somehow, she got through the list without having to speak to Iain again. Now, she just had to get through the rest of her life without him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Anna parked at the back of Stonehaven at dawn. She wasn’t sure whether to blame Iain or the festival or both for her restless night’s sleep. Of course, he was already working with the animals in the barn.

  On the plus side, she would be so busy and there would be so many people around, she didn’t have to worry about being alone with him. Once the day was done, she could go back to her life, and he would go back to Scotland. Monday morning, she would work on forgetting him like it was her job. But, for now, she had to muddle through the day.

  The dancing and pipes competition would start in a few hours, and Anna was a bundle of nerves and excitement to see her pupils perform. Most of them wouldn’t place, but she was proud of every girl who had the courage to get on the stage. In class, she emphasized finding as much joy in the performance as possibly winning a ribbon.

  Anna acted as the stage manager, herding participants to the proper areas, and even gave pep talks to dancers fighting nerves, whether they were part of her studio or not.

  Keisha and Gabby ran up to her arm-in-arm. Keisha grinned, her body nearly vibrating with excitement. “Hey, Anna! We are here to dominate.”

  Anna laughed, slightly jealous of Keisha’s unshakable confidence.

  Gabby’s smile was more tremulous. “Hi, Miss Maitland. The competition looks fierce.”

  Anna leaned in to give them a quick group hug, but kept a hand on each of their arms. “I only have one directive as your teacher. Have fun up on stage today.”

  “I always have fun,” Keisha said before sashaying to the warm-up area.

  Gabby gnawed on her bottom lip. “I’m super nervous. I feel like there’s a lot riding on this performance.”

  “No pressure from me.” At Gabby’s continued silence, Anna asked hesitantly, “Are you worried about your dad?”

  Gabby’s gaze slid off to the side as she raised one shoulder. “He’s coming to watch.”

  “Let muscle memory take over. You concentrate on injecting emotion into your dance.”

  “I don’t want to disappoint you. Or him.”

  Anna shook Gabby’s arm until the girl met her eyes. “No matter what happens on that stage—even if you fall on your face—no one will be disappointed. We’ll all still love you. As long as you dance with your heart, the blue ribbons don’t matter.”

  Gabby gave her a quick, tight hug before she skipped off to join Keisha. When it was time for Keisha to dance, Anna moved toward the center of the crowd to watch, fighting her own nerves. She bumped someone’s shoulder and turned to apologize.


  It was Mr. Donaldson. “Hello, Miss Maitland.” His voice was reserved and formal.

  “I swear I’m more nervous watching them than I ever have been to dance myself.”

  “I’m nervous too.” Standing with his arms crossed and his work boots braced wide, he looked as nervous as an oak tree, but she didn’t doubt him.

  Keisha was first and put on an electric performance that got the crowd clapping along. It was her gift, and she could easily win the blue ribbon and Lass of the Games. Gabby took the stage next with a quiet grace that was just as enthralling. Her music was slower and more melancholy, and her dance wrung every ounce of emotion from the moment.

  When the music faded and she stilled in her final position, a moment of breathless silence hung in the air before the crowd erupted in claps and whistles.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Reminds me of her mother.” Mr. Donaldson’s voice was reverent.

  “She’s beautiful inside and out, Mr. Donaldson.” Anna lay her hand on his arm and hoped she wasn’t overreaching. “You should be very proud.”

  He nodded, his mouth screwing into a grimace. His work-callused hand wiped at a tear from the corner of his eye. “I wish her mother were here to see what a fine young lady she’s growing up to be.”

  “Maybe she is here, looking down and smiling.”

  His mouth relaxed into a small, uncertain smile. “Maybe she is. Is it okay if I go around back to see her?”

  “Of course it is.” Watching him go to his daughter, Anna fought back her own tears.

  She took a deep breath and consulted her tablet. No time to get overrun by emotion. She had bigger problems, like Iain and the weather. She checked the radar. The line of thunderstorms was creeping ever closer like an invading army.

  She made her way over to the stables, to find Iain and Holt in conversation. Holt spotted her first, raised his eyebrows, and spoke low to Iain before exiting like a rabbit on the run. She cursed him under her breath. She could have used a Holt-sized buffer.

  “All the animals are staying put, I hope.” She prayed her casualness covered her hurt.

  “So far.”

  “We have a problem. The weather front is on the move.”

  “What’s the ETA?”

  “Looks like it might hold off until three, maybe four if we’re lucky, but I think we should shut things down at two to give people a chance to get to their cars and on the road.”

  “Agreed. What will we have to compress?”

  “Just the awards for the dancing and piping and husbandry. And we should give the vendors a heads-up in case they aren’t watching the forecast.”

  “The husbandry awards are scheduled for one, so we should be fine. After they’re given out, I’ll get the animals sheltered. I can alert the vendors if you want to handle the food trucks and the ribbon ceremony for the dancing and piping.” His voice was calm and assured.

  She was proud how professional she was acting, when inside she wanted to curl up on her bed, burrow under the covers, and cry for twenty-four to forty-eight hours.

  Shooting a polite smile in his direction, she spun around, but was stopped when he took her wrist, his grip firm but not painful.

  “Was there something else?” she asked brusquely.

  “I want to…” Words seemed to desert him. “I don’t want things to end like this, Anna. Please.”

  Please what? she wanted to ask. Was he seeking her absolution? Had he wronged her? They both knew at the outset their relationship was temporary. She’d gotten too attached to him and had only herself to blame.

  “It’s fine, Iain. I understand. This was never meant to be anything permanent. I didn’t have any illusions otherwise. What I asked last night was stupid and impractical.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” A huff escaped. “Perhaps impractical, but not stupid. I’ve come to … care for you very much, Anna.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Tears clawed up her throat, but she swallowed them down before they could make a bid for escape from her eyes. “Asking you to stay was totally spur-of-the-moment, and I regretted it as soon as it was out of my mouth.” At least that wasn’t a lie.

  “You’re okay?”

  Her cheeks hurt from the force of her faked okayness. “I’m peachy. Let’s get through the storm, okay?”

  This time he let her go. She made a beeline back to the judges’ table and waited until the head judge looked up from scoring her sheet. Imparting the need to shift the ribbon ceremony up incited mild panic, but Anna corralled two volunteers to begin the tally of the previous contestants.

  At two o’clock, with storm clouds amassing in the western sky, Anna climbed the stage to give out ribbons and award Lass of the Games. She didn’t let herself peek at the cards, but as she announced the fifth, fourth, and third places in the dance competition, her nerves and excitement grew for Keisha and Gabby.

  The two girls stood below the stage, their faces upturned, clutching each other’s hands. Mr. Donaldson and Keisha’s mom stood behind them, looking as anxious as the girls, although they weren’t clinging to each other.

  “The second place ribbon goes to…” Anna flipped the card over. “Keisha Johnson!”

  Keisha squealed and skip-ran up on stage. Anna handed over the ribbon, hugged Keisha, and whispered, “I’m so proud of you.”

  A grin on her face, Keisha stepped to line up with the other ribbon winners, waving at the crowd.

  “The Lass of the Games is…” Anna already knew what the card would say, but flipped it over anyway. “Gabrielle Donaldson!”

  Gabby clasped her hands together and bowed her head for a moment before looking up with a radiant smile. She hugged her dad before making her way on stage. Gabby took her ribbon and the trophy in one hand and clasped Anna around the shoulders with the other.

  Before Anna could congratulate her, Gabby said, “Thank you for everything, Miss Maitland. This means more than you can know.”

  This was why Anna loved to teach, and she wiped a tear away as she shooed Gabby to center stage to bask in the cheers. Once they died down, Anna stepped forward and made her prepared announcement thanking everyone for coming out, inviting them back next year, and added on a warning about the incoming inclement weather.

  As soon as Anna made the announcement, the contractors jumped into action, beginning to disassemble the stage and vendor booths. The next two hours were a race to get the field cleared of festivalgoers as well as vendors. The food trucks packed up and lumbered off, leaving crushed grass in their wake.

  Iain and Anna passed each other several times, but only to exchange the briefest of updates from their respective tasks.

  A crack of thunder opened the sky. As a few fat drops of rain hit the top of her head, she tucked her tablet under her shirt and headed toward the house, but only made it a few steps before the drops turned into a torrent.

  The closest cover was the back porch overhang. Iain was already there. She stuttered to a stop to keep from jostling into him. Breathing hard, she checked the tablet and wiped it dry as best she could. The festival was officially over. The contractors would be back in the morning to finish hauling everything away. Ditto for the portable potty people.

  “The animals?” she asked.

  “Holt is coming with a trailer in the morning. He’ll keep Ozzie and Harriet at his farm until Gareth gets home and decides what to do with them.”

  “So that’s it, then. It’s over.” The sentiment encompassed more than the festival. The thought of never seeing Iain again felt surreal. A rivulet of rainwater slipped down her spine and made her shiver.

  “Come in and take a hot shower.” He opened the door to the house and the cool air only increased her shivers. “I grabbed an assortment of food from the vendors before they closed up shop so we’d have something to eat. I noticed you skipped lunch.”

  How had he noticed that? For a moment, she blinked at him, nonplussed. She shouldn’t stay. She should get in her car and drive home to her apartment. Her empty ap
artment. Was it weak to want a little more time with him?

  “I am cold and hungry.”

  “Go on and take your time. I’ll be waiting.”

  Anna dripped her way to the upstairs bathroom. Under the hot spray of water, the tension she’d carried over the last weeks drained away. The festival was finished. Her case for mayor was strengthened by the success. Why then were tears leaking out of her eyes?

  She borrowed a pair of yoga pants and a tank top from Izzy’s drawers, leaving her wet underwear to dry over the towel rack. Iain had seen her in less. On the way down the stairs, she gave herself a pep talk, determined not to embarrass herself by crying or begging him for something he couldn’t give her.

  The storm cast a premature dusk outside. She paused at the edge of the kitchen. Iain had set the table and laid out a variety of food from burritos to scones. His movements betrayed his own nerves, which in turn tamped Anna’s down. They stood on either side of a fault line, preparing themselves for the inevitable quake and fissure.

  He caught sight of her and stopped fussing with the napkins. Electricity arced through the air between them. She took a step forward the same time lightning flashed outside, the thunder cracking on its heels. The lights snapped out and the drum of rain on the windows quickened its cadence.

  “Thank goodness the storm held off,” she said.

  “Aye. This would have put a damper on the festival.” Iain used his phone as a flashlight and located matches in the ubiquitous junk drawer in the Buchanans’ kitchen. He lit the two white tapers on the table. The ambience veered painfully romantic.

  He gestured her over, and she sat next to him at the table. Faced with a cornucopia of food, her stomach begged to be filled. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

  For a few minutes, they concentrated on the fundamental need for food after two long, difficult days, physically and emotionally.

  “Tell me more about growing up in Scotland,” she said.

  His stories settled the mood into the vicinity of comfortable, and they split a blackberry scone.

  “This is tasty, but nothing can touch Mrs. Mac’s scones hot from the AGA.” Iain wiped his fingers on a napkin.