“So Letticia have you ever played such a magnificent instrument as the bagpipes?” he asked as he changed the subject and patted the instrument that was leaning up against his chair.
“No sorry can’t say I have, but I do love listening to them so much that my phone alarm is the sound of bagpipes,” I confessed.
“Well then, after our coffee I will take you over to the park just down the laneway and I will teach you a few tunes,” Brysen offered.
“Would you? That would be great, I’ve always wanted to give them a go,” I said. Then I remembered the promise I made to Scott. I wasn't allowed to remove my bottom from this chair. “But your father told me not to move. Nurses orders and all.”
“Aye don't worry, I will text my father and let him know where we are,” Brysen said.
My phone was not working yet. I still needed to buy a Scottish sim card, which I planned to do that afternoon so I could call Polly and Leah who I was missing terribly. “Well, in that case, why not, but this was all your idea. I don’t want your father to go all tough nurse on me again,” I said.
Brysen laughed, “Aye I take full responsibility of removing your bottom from that chair. It’s like my father has put you in the naughty chair like he used to do to me as a young lad.”
I gave a little giggle when I thought to myself that Scott could put me anywhere he liked at the moment, preferably a nice warm cosy bed with him right beside me. Intimate flashbacks that felt so real were starting to occur more regularly now. Moments where Scott and I had been together as one. The more I had them the more I felt tortured and robbed of him.
I knew deep down Scott was a real Scottish gentleman and would never take advantage of a woman in my state, but I was not just any woman he had only just met. We hadn’t just met in a bar, nor on an online dating site, or out walking the dog, we’d met in each other’s dreams. I really couldn't decipher the difference in these. Obviously Scott, the more practical one of us, could and was holding back on me and not letting us connect and become one as we had in our dreams.
We headed down to the green lush park. Brysen handed me the bagpipes then started to instruct me on how to hold them. “Right Letticia, a little rule of thumb before we get started, let the tools do the work.”
I didn’t quite understand what that meant but I continued to listen while the bagpipes were awkwardly placed in my arms. Brysen continued. “Shoulders are never to go up and down when you are blowing into the pipes. Use your tummy. Fill your lungs from the bottom up. And never breathe with your nose, always your mouth. Right off you go then. Blow.”
With the orders given to me to blow, I did as I was told. A sound did come out eventually, not a very pleasant sound but nonetheless, I was playing the bagpipes. Brysen laughed in amusement but encouraged me at the same time.
“There you go, we shall just call that note the Letticia note as I have never in my wildest dreams heard such a sound,” Brysen teased. I giggled and thought to myself, oh, Brysen don’t get me started on wildest dreams, especially ones that involve your father.
I continued playing the Letticia note, while Brysen cheekily did a little highlander jig. Scott was standing at the top of the alleyway that led down to the green lush park, watching the whole bagpipe lesson unfold. He was in a fit of laughter, not just at the sight he was observing, of an Australian woman recovering from a brain injury being taught the bagpipes by his very own son, but the pure joy that was on Brysen’s face was a sight in itself. Brysen had had a tough few years watching his mother coping with addiction, but he’d found a coping mechanism of his own in the form of bagpipes to drown out the negativity that was surrounding him.
Scott had left the family home and moved into the second family home that they had once rented out for investment purposes. He had then ended up once again renting it out while he went off to Australia for the year. Before that, though, Brysen would divide his time between Scott's little house in the woods and his mum’s house which was the main family home.
On his mum’s bad days, you could always find Brysen at his father's place along with his bagpipes. A safe haven for a young lad who had seen more than he should have at his age. But with a stable father and a father that loved him very much Brysen was able to overcome diversity and the situation he was involved in, and he stayed on the correct side of the tracks and didn’t allow himself to follow in his mother's footsteps.
“Oh, I think that’s enough bagpiping for one day Brysen, I’m rather out of breath,” I admitted.
“Aye, you are a real natural Letticia, we will have you in our Rock Bagpipe band in no time,” he teased.
“I don’t know what your other teenage band members will think about you recruiting a thirty-seven, almost thirty-eight-year-old into the band,” I said.
“Good point, you might just tarnish our image a bit.”
I gave Brysen a friendly hit on the arm, just as Scott appeared. “Learning the ways of a bagpiper are we Letticia?” Scott asked.
“Well trying to at least,” I replied.
Brysen interrupted, “She has even invented a new note, father. We are calling it the Letticia note.”
We all laughed.
“Well, it's good to have you home father, sooner than expected but a lovely surprise. I must be off to band practise now. I will leave you two alone and will come and catch up with you both tomorrow,” Brysen said.
“Ok son, can't be late for practise. You sounded amazing out there today,” Scott said. They gave each other a hug and Brysen took off at speed back up through the alleyway.
“Well Letticia, I just killed two birds with one stone. I had a half-decent chat to Milla, my wife, who was indeed half cut so I’m not sure she will remember the conversation by tomorrow, but she is now known as my ex-wife. We will start the legal process soon. The other thing is, I think we may have just found our first avenue in seeking the answers to our questions.”
He pulled out a flyer from the back pocket of his jeans. It was folded ever so neatly, unlike my plane ticket had been when I pulled it out of my handbag the morning I left Australia. I read it out loud. “Sandwood Bay, a natural bay in Sutherland, is holding its annual Celtic Goddess Convention. Come for a two-day camping experience and find out all you need to know about a Celtic Goddess that has entered your life.”
I read the list of Goddesses that were going to be discussed at the convention. Out of the list, one Goddess took my interest. The Goddess was called Caer Ibormeith, Celtic Goddess of Dreams. I read the name of the Goddess just as Scott said it too.
“This could be the answer Letticia. What do you say, are you up for an adventure to the highlands for two days of camping and spirituality?” Scott asked.
“Oh Scott, when have I ever turned down an opportunity for an adventure?” I said.
“Well, in our dreams, not once,” Scott joked. That was the first time Scott ever joked about the whole dream situation. He was starting to loosen up after confronting me with the truth.
Scott shivered as the Scottish sun started to set. “I just remembered I didn’t bring any clothes back with me. I boarded that plane not really prepared or thinking I would be leaving Australia,” Scott said.
I laughed at him. “You must be the only person in history to ever have thought such a thing,” I said.
“At least I will go down in history for something,” he joked. “We might need to go back to my little cottage that is being rented out and grab some clothes that I have stored away in a locked cupboard.”
“Oh yes, the cottage you talked about in our dreams. It’s in the woods called Scott’s Ridge,” I teased.
“Yes, that’s the one, although I think I would prefer to call it Kings Ridge,” Scott said.
“Yeah that has a better ring to it,” I replied.
“Just give me a minute. I will call up my tenant who is living there at the moment and let him know we will be popping by in a bit. I don’t like to turn up unannounced.”
Scott was such a gentl
eman. Sometimes too much of a gentleman, I thought, in regard to not tearing my clothes off and making sweet love to me. Ok, that’s enough of that though, I told myself. That’s just torturing myself once again.
Scott got out his mobile phone and dialled the number. I stood in the parklands, still admiring the Scottish scenery and the Scottish man standing in front of me, and still trying to comprehend how I got to be standing in Scotland at all. After a five-minute conversation Scott hung up and smiled that sexy cheeky sideways smile that I had grown to love in my dreams.
“Well Letticia, first the flyer, now the house, our luck just keeps on coming. My tenant is out of town for a week and said we are more than welcome to stay in the cottage,” Scott explained.
“You mean Kings Ridge,” I joked.
“Yes, I mean Kings Ridge,” Scott corrected himself just to keep the peace.
“Well, what are we waiting for, take me home Scott,” I ordered.
Scott looked a bit awkward. He knew what I was insinuating, so he quickly put me straight and said, “I will give you the loft bed up on the mezzanine floor and I will take the pull-out couch.”
“Ok, if you must,” I teased.
“While you were busy learning the bagpipes with Brysen I left the pub after the very hard conversation that needed to be had with my ex-wife, and ducked off to my parents’ house. I grabbed the car that I had left in their spare garage while I was in Australia, so we now have a car to drive us back to Kings Ridge,” Scott said.
“Oh, well isn’t that just very convenient indeed?” I replied.
“Come on, I’m just parked up by the alleyway, let’s get back before it gets too dark to light the fire. We will need to go gather up some firewood too,” Scott told me.
“Oh, I like what I’m hearing. It’s very Fraser Ridge sounding,” I teased.
We made our way towards Scott's car. There were a lot of cars parked in a row in the car park and I was not sure which one was his until he pressed his car remote and pointed it towards a black Range Rover. The lights flickered on and off as it unlocked itself.
Yet again I very calmly reached into my bag, grabbed my journal out, and entered the newest coincidence to the long list of others. I returned the journal deep inside my over-the-shoulder handbag and proceeded to climb up into Scott’s car, the exact car he had picked me up in several times in our dreams. I pulled the seatbelt over my shoulder and clicked it in.
“So, is it just as flash as the one in your dreams?” Scott joked.
“Yes, right down to the seat warmers. My bottom is feeling rather toasty,” I laughed.
“Good to hear, we can’t have you having a cold bottom can we now Letticia!” Scott joked.
“Well, there are other ways to warm my bottom up Scott,” I said. Scott laughed at the thought.
“More to the point, how are your feet down there?” I asked, pointing to his feet which were resting upon the peddles. “We better put the heater on in the footwell too, can’t let you get cold feet either can we now?” I teased. We both laughed.
“Behave Letticia, who said anything about me getting cold feet?” Scott said cheekily.
Chapter Ten
Kings Ridge
The drive to Kings Ridge was about twenty minutes out of Edinburgh. It was a rural setting, far enough away to make you feel like you were leaving civilization, but close enough to go out and grab some milk and bread if need be.
The road leading up to Kings Ridge was covered with green pine trees. I put the window down to see if I could get the smell of pine. As soon as the window was down I smelt the smell of one hundred Christmases all at once. The smell of pine was so familiar and so reassuring. Pine had a way of making me feel safe and secure, and of course brought many memories of past Christmases.
We started to slow down. I could see no houses, just a long road covered by trees on both sides. I then spotted a wooden letterbox as we slowed down. We turned and drove up past it as I caught a glimpse of the name written on it. 236 King. “Ok, 236 King, I take it we have arrived?” I asked.
“That we have,” Scott replied. “Although we still have a long driveway to drive up first. Do you mind opening the gate?” Scott asked.
“Of course, my master,” I said.
“Thank you, Las.”
Scott was starting to play along now. I was starting to see the Scott I knew from our dreams come to life. I unclipped the gate from the latch and pushed it open. Scott drove through and then stopped to wait for me as I shut the gate behind his car. I jumped back into the passenger seat, excited to see what Kings Ridge looked like.
I had no expectations as Kings Ridge never showed up in our dreams, we were far too busy cooking on the set of Outlander and meeting all our favourite actors to visit Kings Ridge obviously. The driveway was stony, long, and a little steep, I see now why Scott needed the Range Rover. A little four-cylinder car would struggle to make it up to Kings Ridge.
It was dusk. We had just enough light left to go gather some wood from the wood shed. Scott pulled up to Kings Ridge and parked his car under a carport just off to the side of the cottage.
“It’s not exactly Lallybroch, nonetheless it’s a roof over our heads,” Scott said.
I had to disagree, it was nowhere near to the scale of Lallybroch but it shone in its own unique and little way. It was a wooden cottage, with a slate roof, a veranda wrapped around the front and the sides of the cottage with two rocking chairs placed next to each other out the front. There were four steps to walk up with a wooden rail on either side to get you up to the front door.
As I got up onto the veranda I turned around to see the view from the front of the house. There were tall trees scattered all over the front yard. A child’s paradise to play hide and seek in, I thought. Polly and Leah would love this. They would play out here for hours on end, I thought to myself.
Leaves scattered the ground. I wanted to go out myself and scoop the leaves up in my hands and throw them high up into the air and watch them float back down to earth with all their different colours sprinkling down.
“Welcome to Kings Ridge, my newly named cottage that I call home. Come in and make yourself at home Letticia.” Scott said very hospitably.
“Don’t mind if I do,” I replied.
It felt so private and secluded. “Scott, do you have any neighbours?” I asked.
“Aye, I do, but the nearest one is half a kilometre away. So, you can get around here in nothing but your birthday suit without getting caught,” Scott laughed. That image of Scott in his birthday suit made me go weak at the knees. I had to stop myself from taking that thought any further.
Scott had carried my suitcase up from the car for me along with a bag of groceries, just like a real Scottish gentleman. Shame he didn’t do it in his birthday suit I thought to myself, before telling myself for the second time to get that image out of your mind Letticia.
“Right then, here are your sleeping quarters,” Scott said once we were inside. He pointed up towards a ladder at the back of the cottage that led up to the mezzanine floor. A rail was built across the front of the floor obviously for safety reasons and not for privacy reasons.
“I will carry your suitcase up for you to save you lugging it up,” Scott offered.
“Thanks, Scott that will be great, but I really don’t mind taking the couch. You don't need to give up your bed for me,” I said.
“Don’t be silly Letticia, you are a lass, you need more privacy than I do.” I could tell there was no point in arguing the case anymore. Scott was a fine, well-mannered Scottish gentleman, and he was not going to back down.
“Well, in that case, I will take it,” I said quickly.
“Well that didn’t need much convincing, did it?” Scott laughed.
After we had settled in Scott took me out to the firewood shed and we both gathered up a big handful of firewood, enough to get us through the night.
“These Scottish nights can get rather cold,” Scott warned me.
&nb
sp; Once we were back inside the cottage we placed the firewood into a basket next to the big open stone fireplace. The fireplace had a mantel above it that held framed family photos and a big green vase on one side. At least this vase had not stopped Scott from travelling the world, I giggled to myself.
Scott showed me where the linen cupboard was so I could put fresh sheets on the bed. I made my bed while Scott lit the fire. It was still feeling very surreal being here with Scott but not intimately being with him. We would have been all over each other if we were in Dreamlander. Every part of me wanted to go back to that world. I missed Scott being intimate with me. Did he not find me attractive in the real world? Why did he not want to be anything more than just friends? I thought to myself.
Just then Scott yelled up to me from below, “Everything ok up there Letticia?”
“Yes, almost finished,” I replied.
“If you want a hot shower or bath the bathroom is just off the sitting room, I have put some clean towels out for you.”
It took every inch of my being not to yell back, ‘would you like to join me?’ But I was able to control myself in doing so - only just though. I knew what the answer would have been anyway.
The jet lag was starting to kick in. My eyes felt heavy and raw. The strain of keeping them open was beginning to appear. I decided a shower might wake me up a bit, so took Scott up on his offer. I hopped into the shower and immediately my body relaxed; it was no longer fighting to stay warm in the Scottish Spring weather. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to allow the water to run from the tip of my neck right down to my toes, covering my body like a warm blanket.
My moment was interrupted though by the sound of Scott singing from the kitchen. He had a great voice. I was unfamiliar with the song he was singing, and it sounded like a Scottish folk song. His accent sounded even stronger when he sang, I could see where Brysen got his musical talent from now.
I turned the shower off and hopped out, grabbing one of the warm towels Scott had warmed by the fire and put out for me. A great big fluffy green towel, I wrapped it around myself and without even thinking walked out into the living room. I found a roaring fire lit, and Scott in the kitchen cooking a big bowl of spaghetti Bolognese.
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