Under Scottish Stars

by Carla Laureano

  “Morning!” Serena addressed both of them, but her gaze quickly slid to Malcolm. “Come on in. There’s extra porridge if you two are hungry. We don’t have to leave for a few minutes yet.”

  “We actually brought breakfast,” Kylee said as Malcolm passed a coffee cup to Serena. “I really owe you way more than coffee and buns for setting this up.”

  Malcolm repressed a smile at the implication that the food had been Kylee’s idea. He saw amusement in Serena’s eyes that mirrored his own, but she just said kindly, “It’s my pleasure, Kylee. Davy and Glenn should be a great source of information for you.”

  “Malcolm!” Em came running from the kitchen, followed by Max close at her heels. “Did you bring us something?”

  “Manners,” Serena scolded, but Malcolm laughed.

  “Into the kitchen. I don’t think your mum wants you to eat in the lounge.” He surreptitiously opened the bag so Serena could peek in before they entered the kitchen. “I didn’t get anything too sugary. Is it okay?”

  “It’s fine.” From her smile, one would have thought he’d brought far more than a couple of brioche buns. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d let her peek before he offered it to them.

  Serena went to the cabinet and stirred sugar into her cup, then pulled out a small carton of milk from the fridge. “You want some?”

  “I take mine black.”

  “How very American,” she said teasingly.

  “Is it? I have my tea with milk and sugar, so I’m still a proper Scot in all the important ways.” He reached past her to take a plate from the cabinet, purposely pressing up against her for a second while his hand rested on her waist. The sidelong glance she gave him made him wish for a couple of minutes away from prying eyes. Instead, he took the plate and set it on the table. “Dig in while they’re still warm.” The three kids descended on the food like starving prisoners.

  Malcolm grabbed two buns and put them on plates, presenting one to Serena with a flourish.

  “Raspberry is my favorite.” She took a bite and rolled her eyes in ecstasy. “This is amazing.”

  “I thought chocolate was your favorite.”

  “Close second. I like anything sweet. You know you have a baking problem when your children groan over a full biscuit jar.”

  “Somehow I don’t believe that.” He shifted his glance to Max, who had a smear of raspberry jam over his lips and down his chin.

  “Em doesn’t have our sweet tooth. She actually asks for vegetables.” Serena grabbed a paper serviette and wet it under the tap, then swooped in to wipe Max’s face before the mess got transferred to his clothes. “Five minutes, everyone. We don’t want to be late.”

  Malcolm watched Serena wipe her children clean and clear the table with practiced movements. She was a good mother. He had never thought that would be a quality he’d notice, even though he’d admired Nicola’s seeming ease in raising Kylee. It also made him realize exactly what Serena’s life must be like: always busy, often thankless. She could afford an au pair, but she chose to do everything herself, something he admired immensely. The recollection of how he’d challenged her right to have a chip on her shoulder made him feel vaguely guilty. On the surface, perhaps, she had nothing to complain about, but he also remembered how she’d dissolved into tears in his arms last night. She’d probably endured a lot of long and lonely nights, bearing the burden of raising two children without any support. She deserved to have someone to ease that burden. Max and Em deserved a father.

  In that moment he realized with frightening clarity how serious he was about this woman.

  “All right, everyone ready to go?” Serena clapped her hands, and Em and Max reluctantly slid from their chairs. She wrestled them into their jackets, then led them all out to the car.

  “Sorry, Kylee, you’re going to have to squeeze in the back. I moved Em to the middle so you could have the window, but your guitar needs to go in the boot.”

  Once the instrument was safely stowed in the rear compartment and everyone was seat-belted in, Serena backed out of the drive and turned toward Portree. It wasn’t long before Kylee had both Serena’s children engaged in a game of I Spy, even though she had an unfair advantage from driving this route every day to school.

  “She’s a good girl,” Serena murmured to Malcolm.

  “I can’t take credit,” he whispered back. “Nicola and Richard were excellent parents.”

  “I’m sure. But considering all she’s been through, she’s doing really well. I think you’ve done right by her. I know what you had to give up to make it happen.”

  He placed his hand briefly over Serena’s on the gearshift and squeezed before letting go. He was just doing what needed to be done, but her acknowledgment of the sacrifice made him feel good anyway. In truth, he’d initially resented the responsibility, especially after Teresa had made it clear he wasn’t worth moving to Scotland for and she wasn’t willing to wait for him. To think he had actually believed they might get married at some point . . . Now he realized their priorities had been far too different for a long-term relationship to ever work.

  Davy and Glenn’s house lay by a rutted road in Portree just off A855, one of many similar rows of townhomes, indistinguishable from one another in their white-plastered uniformity. This was the Skye that most holiday goers didn’t know about. Brochures showed only quaint old buildings with sweeping views of the bays or the sound, not this modern rural neighborhood studded with television aerials and blue plastic rubbish-collection bins.

  Serena pulled up in front of an end unit, before which was parked a silver Vauxhall estate car. Malcolm stifled a smile. This should eliminate any get-rich-quick fantasy Kylee harbored about music. Davy and Glenn were clearly solidly middle class, making a decent but not luxurious living. In his opinion, that was a positive sign. Teenagers might dream of wealth and fame, but parents and guardians had nightmares of insect-infested flats and busking on the street for 20p coins.

  Serena hopped out of the car and retrieved Kylee’s guitar from the boot before she took Max from his car seat. Kylee took her instrument and followed Serena slowly toward the front of the townhome, obviously nervous. Malcolm nudged her forward with an encouraging smile.

  Serena was already knocking confidently at the door, which opened almost immediately. Malcolm wasn’t sure what he had expected of Davy, but this utterly normal-looking woman was not it. She was tall and pretty, with short-cropped dark hair, dressed in jeans and a 1940s-style printed blouse.

  “Serena!” Davy said warmly, giving Serena a squeeze before she turned to the kids. “I can’t believe this is Em and Maxie. I almost didn’t recognize you two, you were so young last time I saw you.” She straightened and directed a warm smile toward the newcomers. “And you must be Malcolm and Kylee. Please, come in.”

  Malcolm nudged Kylee up the two steps and into a very modern town house. The walls and high ceilings were all painted a bright white, the small reception room decorated in contemporary furnishings and large color-splashed canvases.

  “Have a seat.” Davy waved her hand toward a boxy leather sofa. “I’ll go let Glenn know you’re here.”

  Kylee gingerly perched on the edge of the sofa while Max made a beeline for the tabby dozing on the arm of a chair. “Kitty!”

  The cat was still trying to decide whether to tolerate the boy when Davy returned with a tray of tea accoutrements, followed closely by a slender man with a shaved head. He fit the musician stereotype better than his wife with an earring in each ear and several tattoos on the insides of his forearms.

  While Davy set the tea things down on the table, the man held out his hand to Malcolm. “Glenn.”

  “Malcolm. Nice to meet you. This is my niece, Kylee.”

  “Hi, Kylee.” Glenn gave her a friendly nod, but he didn’t approach her. “I’m glad you could come visit us. Serena said you had some questions about a career in music.”

  “If you don’t mind.” Kylee’s voice came out as little more than a squ
eak.

  “Ach, Glenn.” Davy shot her husband a sharp look. “Tea first. And biscuits. Come sit by me, Kylee. You’ll love these. They’re lavender shortbread. I thought Serena was mad when she gave me the recipe, but they’re actually lovely.”

  Serena and Davy poured tea and dished out the biscuits to the whole crowd. After they’d nibbled on the shortbread, which was indeed very good, Davy set down her cup and turned to Kylee. “So tell me a little about your music. Serena says you’re a singer-songwriter?”

  Malcolm could see all the tension return to Kylee’s body. “Yes.”

  “If you could pick one artist to model yourself after, who would it be?”

  Bless Davy, Malcolm thought. Within seconds, Kylee was chatting enthusiastically about her favorite singers. Minutes after that, she was pulling out her guitar as an illustration, and Glenn brought out his own to accompany her.

  Malcolm pulled Serena aside. “They’re fantastic,” he whispered. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Davy and Glenn will give her good advice. I’m going to take Em and Max outside to play, though. They’re getting restless.”

  “I’ll stay here.”

  “I would too.” She touched his arm before she gathered up her children and ushered them out the front door. Malcolm settled back with his tea and watched Kylee, her eyes bright, her expression fully engrossed in Glenn’s words.

  Yes, there had been sacrifices, but he couldn’t doubt that they were absolutely worth it.

  Serena sat on a low cement wall watching Em and Max play an improvised game with sticks and rocks they had found in Davy and Glenn’s front garden.

  After she’d been outside for perhaps half an hour, Davy came out the front door and plopped onto the wall next to her. “You’re right. She’s good.”

  “I thought so. But I’m not the best judge of musical talent.”

  “Glenn is a better judge of singers than I am,” Davy said. “But considering she’s largely self-taught on the guitar and already so proficient, there’s no doubt she has natural talent.”

  “He’s in there talking to her?”

  “Giving her a realistic idea of what she can expect in a university music program and what she’ll need to do if she wants to make it as an artist.”

  Serena threw Davy a wry glance. “I hope he doesn’t terrify her. He can be a little intense.”

  “It’s a brutal business. If she’s that easily frightened off, best she knows now while she can still choose to do something else. Making a living from art doesn’t offer much security in the best of times.”

  Even though Davy’s words weren’t meant for Serena, they still stung. Serena simply nodded. “I owe you one. Thanks.”

  “Sure.” Davy cocked her head and studied her. “So what’s this Malcolm to you? Don’t tell me he’s your employee like you did over the phone.”

  Serena smiled. “He is my employee.”

  “But not just.”

  “No, not just.” When Davy stared expectantly, she shrugged. “We’re seeing each other. Nothing serious.”

  “So ‘not serious’ that you’re calling in favors on his niece’s behalf?”

  Serena considered her words carefully. “I like him. A lot. But I’m just supposed to be here for the summer, and we both have obligations. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “When Glenn and I met, he was living in Edinburgh and I was here on Skye, and we somehow made it work. Not that I’m pushing, mind you; just saying that these things have a way of sorting themselves when you’re motivated.” Davy fell quiet for a moment, watching as Em pretended to run away from her gleefully squealing little brother. “How’s everything else going?”

  “You know. We’re fine, all things considered.” She didn’t go into the details that had brought them to Skye. She and Davy were still friends, but they were no longer sharing-deepest-secrets sort of friends.

  The door to the town house opened again, revealing Malcolm standing beneath the frame. Even though he was probably supposed to be retrieving Davy, his gaze rested longest on Serena, making her heart give another one of those silly little squeezes.

  “Looks like I’m being summoned.” Davy hopped off the wall, then looked between Malcolm and Serena and smiled. “I have a feeling you might be able to work something out.”

  Serena stood, but before she could follow Davy, Malcolm joined her on the low wall.

  “How are they doing in there?” Serena asked.

  “Now that Kylee has gotten over her terror of sitting with some real musicians, she’s in her element. Especially once she learned that Glenn played on April Chaos’s last studio album.”

  Serena laughed. “I’m glad it’s helpful. Amazing all the talent we have on our little island, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely.” Malcolm squeezed her hand before standing. “I should go back inside. I wanted to let you know we’ll be ready to leave in a few minutes.”

  “We’ll be right in.” Serena watched him saunter back across the garden to the house, but she didn’t immediately leave her seat on the wall. Our little island, she’d said. It had been so long since she’d lived here that she’d ceased to claim ownership, but the past month had made her realize what she loved so much about Skye. The friendliness, the small community. Would it really be so bad to stay?

  Up until this point, she’d been holding herself back from really exploring where her relationship with Malcolm could go because she was so sure it had to be limited to a summer romance. But what if it didn’t? It wasn’t as if she had a job demanding her return. Em’s school no longer dictated where they lived, and she’d already decided to sell her house. What if she stopped using that as an excuse not to get attached?

  The idea simultaneously thrilled and terrified her. The only time she’d fully abandoned caution and given her heart away, she’d ended up in a troubled marriage for ten years. But Malcolm wasn’t Edward in any respect. Besides, they weren’t to that point anyway. She was just considering giving this thing a chance to develop naturally. There couldn’t be any harm in that. Could there?

  Kylee didn’t stop talking the entire way back to Breakish, giving Malcolm and Serena a play-by-play of everything Glenn and Davy had said to her, plus an analysis of the imagined subtext.

  “I’m pretty sure they meant just what they said.” Malcolm turned in his seat to smile at her. “If Glenn said you’re talented but could benefit from a conservatory education and some courses from the music-production track, that’s probably what he meant.”

  “Right.” Kylee fell silent for a moment. “But the music program at Glasgow is almost strictly classical. I don’t want to be an opera singer.” Now Malcolm understood what this was about. The type of program about which Glenn had spoken mirrored Berklee almost perfectly, but the University of Glasgow was structured far differently. No doubt Kylee felt she’d damaged her future career chances by not getting into the school of her choice.

  “I happen to know that you can study abroad for your third year, so don’t count those schools out yet.” At Kylee’s surprised look, he laughed. “What? You didn’t think I’d read the catalog? I’d venture to say I know your future coursework better than you do.”

  A tiny smile crept back onto Kylee’s lips. As Malcolm turned forward, he saw Serena was smiling at him as well. He hadn’t even realized he needed validation of his parenting skills, but her approval warmed him. Maybe understanding how dedicated he was to Kylee would help Serena realize that he was worthy of her trust.

  Kylee picked up where she had left off, punctuated by a little hero worship from Em, who was apparently a burgeoning pianist herself. When they pulled into the drive of Serena’s house, Kylee’s exuberance once again won out. As soon as Serena got out of the car, Kylee threw her arms around her. “This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  “You’re welcome,” Serena said with a laugh. “I’m glad it was helpful.”

  “Hey, Ky, why don’t you head h
ome,” Malcolm said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Okay.” Kylee must have been too preoccupied with the events of the morning to shoot him her usual knowing look, because she just gave a wave good-bye before heading down the drive.

  Serena unbuckled Max from his car seat, and the little boy immediately clung to her with arms and legs, killing Malcolm’s hope of a private conversation and a good-bye kiss. He cleared his throat. “I was wondering . . . would you like to go to church with us tomorrow?”

  She seemed startled by the invitation. “Church?”

  “You know, big building with stained glass, lots of singing—”

  “I know what it is. I just haven’t—where do you go?”

  “Same place Muriel goes . . . where you used to attend. You don’t remember, do you? Mum and Nicola and I sat a few rows behind you every weekend for years.”

  Now color bloomed on her cheeks, and she looked embarrassed. “I can’t say I noticed. I vaguely remember Nicola, but you must have been a few years behind me.”

  Right. Their age difference. “Does that bother you?”

  A slow smile spread over her face. “No. At least not as much as it should.”

  “Good.” Despite the fact that she was holding her son and Em lingered a few steps away, he was tempted to kiss her right there. Instead, he asked, “So you’ll come?”

  She still looked reluctant, but she nodded. “Okay.”

  “Great. It starts at nine. I’ll save you a seat.”

  Malcolm winked at her, then turned away. He was halfway down the drive before she called after him. “Wait! Kylee’s guitar!”

  “Oh, right.” He waited while Serena opened the boot with her key fob and then reached in for the guitar case. He paused at the open boxes pushed to the side. “What’s all this?”

  She circled around beside him, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “It’s nothing.”