Hot Scots, Castles, and Kilts

by Tammy Swoish

  “There you are, pumpkin,” she said.

  I saw Adan walk across the room. On one side of him was Molly and on the other side was his father, Laird Robert McClintogg. So, I thought, that's the guy Molly loves? He was shorter than Adan, but stockier, with lighter hair and a paler complexion.

  Then my brain started to catch up with my body. I held my breath. “Don't you dare, Sami Ames,” said Mom. “You breathe.”

  So I did.

  “You nearly scared everyone to death,” Mom said. “You haven't done that, the whole not breathing thing, since you were six. Remember, it was the first time you were called into the principal's office.”

  I nodded. Great—not only had I passed out in front of Adan's castle, but Mom was sharing my first trip to the principal's office with everyone.

  “Well, lass,” said Adan's dad, smiling. “Wish more pretty girls would faint when they see me.” He laughed. Dad would call it an honest, good-person laugh.

  My throat was dry. I swallowed. “I'm so embarrassed,” I said.

  “Dinnae be,” he said. “Gave me a reason to see Molly MacKensie.” He looked at Molly and winked.

  Molly blushed and smiled.

  I looked at Adan and Mom. Mom winked. “I know,” she said.

  I sat up, keeping my back propped against the arm of the couch.

  “Aye,” Molly said. “I was so thrilled with someone knowing that the next day I told your mum.”

  “We talked about it all day,” Mom said. “Like two teenage girls.” She laughed.

  “Father told me months ago,” Adan said.

  “So the only one who doesn't know is Fiona?” I asked.

  Robert looked at Molly. “Aye.” I'm not too quick with some things, but even I could see the flash of hurt in his eyes.

  Robert turned to me. “But ye've given Adan and Fiona the opportunity to become friends this summer.” He sighed. “That's a step in the right direction.”

  “I'll tell her, Robert,” Molly said.

  “Aye,” Robert laughed. “Takes a wee lass passing out in my drive to get ye to do it.”

  “Where is Fiona?” I asked.

  “Touring with Margaret, the cook,” Adan said.

  Trouble . . .

  with a Capital “T”

  “Ye stay and rest, lass,” Robert said, “as long as ye need to.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  He winked. “ 'Tis I who should be thanking you. I enjoy reminding my bonnie Molly that she will marry me by the summer's eve.”

  I watched him smile at Molly. Geez, he really had it bad for her.

  “No . . . she . . . will . . . not.”

  I turned with everyone else to see Fiona standing in the doorway. Her face was white and tears were slowly sliding down her cheeks.

  “My mum would rather die than marry a Mc-Clintogg!” she shouted.

  I wasn't the only one who stopped breathing then.

  “Fiona,” Adan said.

  “Dinnae speak to me! You're a McClintogg!”

  Adan shook his head. “We're friends.”

  I thought Fiona would break her pinky if she didn't stop cracking it. “Nay, ye just used me!” she shouted. Her accent was getting stronger.

  “How, Fiona?” he asked.

  She stammered, “I—I dinnae know . . . but my mum wouldna agree to marry a McClintogg.” She turned to Robert. “You're trying to take our farm.”

  Robert shook his head and opened his arms. “No, lass,” he said. “Your father and I were friends.”

  “Fiona,” Molly said. “You've blamed the Mc-Clintoggs for too long. Your father died in an accident. There is no clan feud. You're using a long-dead war to hang on to your father. Robert doesn't want our land.”

  But Fiona hadn't heard them. She was gone.

  Day 33

  Fiona Has Run Away

  Well, I'm not sure it's technically running away. She took a blanket, a pillow, and a couple days' worth of clothes and moved into the cottage we had spent a week cleaning. It's like she ran away to her basement or something.

  Mom and I stayed at the manor house with Molly, trying to keep her calm. She was sure Fiona would hate her forever. I tried thinking like Fiona and came to the conclusion that Fiona wouldn't hate her mom f-o-r-e-v-e-r. Maybe a long time, but not forever. They were too close, and I was sad to see Molly crying. But she didn't go after Fiona.

  I told Mom she would've chased me down and dragged me back by my hair. But Mom reminded me that we didn't have other living quarters for me to run to in times of crisis.

  I wasn't fooled. Mom is a control freak. She'd go nuts if I left.

  But this wasn't about Mom and me.

  I'd watched Molly cry for two days. She hadn't smiled, hadn't picked up a power tool; she hadn't even looked at her to-do binder. Robert and Adan stopped by twice. I was really starting to worry.

  Fiona was being a whiny baby. She needed to grow up and deal with the fact that her mom wasn't going to stay a widow forever.

  Samuel Logan Gave Me an Order

  I was sleeping in Fiona's bed when the covers were ripped off me. I woke to see ghost Samuel standing at the foot of the bed with the blankets piled around his feet.

  “What do you want?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  “You have to mend this muddle,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “The families.”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  He shrugged. “It feels right somehow.”

  I nodded.

  “I loved a McClintogg once,” he said, “and my bonnie lass loved me. But our families would not let us wed.”

  “That's stupid,” I said.

  Samuel looked confused. “I don't understand ‘stupid.’ ”

  “Not good,” I said.

  “Aye,” he whispered. “I left to die on a battlefield. I didn't care where or for what cause.”

  “That sucks.”

  He looked confused again. “My Annie died within a year of my leaving. 'Tis said she died of a broken heart.”

  “And you?” I asked.

  “ 'Tis my shame that when I returned home, I couldn't bear the grief of knowing she was dead, so I took my own life.”

  I didn't have words. “I'm sorry,” I said.

  “Put my spirit to rest, Sami, and guide the families to unite. Let love win.”

  Day 34

  Seeing Fiona

  I knocked on the door of Fiona's cottage. I'd had it. If Molly wanted to give Fiona time, that was her business, but I knew what I had to do.

  “Go away!” Fiona shouted through the door.

  I pushed it open. “No!” I yelled, and walked in.

  Fiona sat in a chair by the fireplace. It was warm outside, and the roaring fire filled the small room with an almost unbearable heat.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Knitting.” She held up the needles and yarn and looked at me like I was an idiot for even asking.

  She was wearing ragged eighties-style sweats and knitting. This was serious. Not only was she being selfish, she was backsliding into uncool territory.

  I glared at her. “Stop being such a jerk,” I said, sitting in a chair across from her. “Your mom is totally upset.”

  She shrugged.

  “Fiona.” I wanted to shout but kept my voice calm. “This is so stupid.”

  “Knitting?”

  I ignored that. “Fiona.” I raised my voice. “Your mom has been crying for two days.”

  “So have I,” she said.

  “She says she's giving you space, but if you were my daughter, I'd kick your butt and tell you to grow up.”

  I thought she was going to jump out of her chair and punch me. “What do you know about it? Your father didn't die. And your mum isn't going to marry a McClintogg.”

  My patience snapped. “Have you noticed you're the only one who has a problem with the McClintoggs?”

  “MacKensies hate them.” She caught he
r breath like she wanted to cry.

  “You mean you hate them,” I said. “And you don't even know why. Robert doesn't want to take your land. He's promised your mom it'll pass down to you.”

  She smirked. “Aye, and he'll sign it over before they marry?”

  I nodded. “He said he would.”

  She looked confused.

  “Truly, Fiona. He seems like a good guy. You're the one being a jerk.”

  “Am not.”

  “Oh yeah, you are.” I started counting on my fingers. “First you give me all this grief about seeing Adan, but when Shane, Adan, you, and I are all together, you have fun. And you know it.

  “Second, do you think your mom would work so hard getting this place into shape if she didn't care about you? She could just marry Robert and move into his castle, you know. But she's making this place work and grow . . . for you.” I pointed at her.

  “Why didn't she tell me?” Fiona said. “That wasn't right.”

  I shrugged. “I don't know, Fiona. She probably wishes she had, but in some weird mom way she probably thought she was protecting you or something.”

  Fiona didn't say anything.

  “Third,” I continued, “your father was Robert's friend. It wasn't until after your dad—I don't mean to say mean things about the dead, but . . . your dad gambled away the money that should've been used to pay back Robert.” I pointed at her again. “And you know that's the truth.”

  She looked away from me and into the fire. “Aye, but that doesn't make it easier.”

  “Look, Fiona, you'll always love your dad. He's gone, though. You're not losing him by letting Robert into your mom's life and maybe someday into yours.”

  I wished my dad was here. He always knows what to say. I'd like to hug him right now.

  “Aye,” she said, “but I feel like a traitor to the MacKensies.”

  “You should be loyal to your mom,” I said. “She's the one who's always been loyal to you.”

  Fiona started crying. “I dinnae know what to do.”

  “Why?”

  “I've been trying for two days to remember why McClintoggs are so bad,” she sobbed, “but I can't. Not really. A long time ago they used to steal cattle and sheep from us.”

  “Do you mean when your dad was a boy?”

  “No.”

  “In the past fifty years?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “They used to beat our serfs.”

  “Good gravy! What, two hundred years ago?”

  She nodded. “I know it sounds stupid. But it's our family history that's keeping me from being happy for Mum. And I do want to be, Sami.”

  “Samuel Logan told me I had to mend things,” I said.

  “You talked to him again?”

  “Yeah.” I paced in front of the fire. “He said that he once loved a McClintogg but couldn't marry her because of their families' hatred. A marriage of love between the two families will release his soul.”

  Fiona shook her head. “That's daft.”

  I'm not very patient, which is why my friends don't come to me for advice.

  “Get over yourself, Fiona,” I said. “Your mom won't marry Robert without your blessing.”

  “She never said one word to me about it,” Fiona said.

  “Look at you,” I said, moving toward the door. “This has made you nuts. Your mom knew it would.” I walked to the door. “You're hanging on to stuff based on some long-forgotten feud. This is now. Your mom loves you. Can't you see that?”

  I slammed the door on my way out.

  Geez, she was so selfish. No wonder Mom sometimes gets mad at me when she thinks I've been selfish. It's annoying.

  Day 35

  Mother-Daughter Bonding

  Fiona was at the main house by 7 a.m. She'd asked Molly to go with her and count sheep.

  They've been gone for three hours.

  She Said Yes!

  She Said Yes!

  She Said Yes!

  Fiona told her mom it was okay with her if she married Robert.

  Wedding Planner

  I hope Mom never tries to go into the wedding-planning business. She's unorganized, grouchy, bossy . . . and all about pastels. Isn't Scotland the land of plaids?

  I keep trying to tell her that pastels are so last century, even in America. Besides, we're in the Highlands.

  “Would you dress one of your characters in pastel for a Highland wedding?” I asked.

  She looked at me for so long, I finally knew I had her; I could see it in her eyes.

  “Fine,” she said. “No pastels.” She took a deep breath. “But—”

  “No.” I waved my hand. “No buts. We're in Scotland. I know Molly is letting you take charge of the wedding details, but you suck at it.”

  She glared at me. Then the oddest thing happened: she laughed, a snorting, milk-coming-out-ofher-nose laugh.

  I watched Mom losing it.

  I guess I'm the new wedding planner.

  Day 36

  Nope

  After working on the computer all day making invitations and address labels, printing through one entire cartridge of ink, and licking envelopes, I realized I definitely don't have the patience to be a wedding planner, thank you very much.

  It's time-consuming . . . and tastes terrible.

  Once Mom had acknowledged the truth about pastels, we called the florist and ordered tons of the darkest red roses on the market. Then Mom, Fiona, and I went to town to shop for dresses.

  “Mom will wear her family plaid,” said Fiona. “She comes from the Collin clan. The colors are navy blue and tan on a white background.”

  “I saw the dress yesterday,” said Mom. “It reminds me of a Southern belle, the way it's corseted around the top and puffs at the bottom.”

  “Southern belle?” I asked.

  “Dinnae worry, Sami,” Fiona said. “It's not lacy and doesn't require three underskirts.”

  Mom looked at me. “I'm so glad we didn't go pastel.”

  “Aye,” Fiona said. “Pastels are so last century.”

  I smiled. Fiona was back.

  “I will wear the MacKensie colors,” Fiona said. “A sash will fall over my right shoulder and go around my waist. A brooch with the MacKensie coat of arms will hold it in place.”

  “What sort of dress would you like?” Mom asked Fiona.

  “Something simple,” said Fiona. “MacKensie colors are deep-green plaid over white. Black, I think.”

  I agreed. Black would look sharp.

  “Black,” Mom said, stopping midstride. “This is a wedding, Fiona.”

  “Aye.”

  “Black?” Mom was horrified.

  “It will look chic with the plaid over her shoulder and around her waist,” I said. “It's not like she's going to wear a black veil. It'll be classy.”

  “But—”

  “Trust us,” Fiona said. “I want Mum's wedding to be special. I'll not go into mourning.”

  “Black,” Mom mumbled, and started walking again. “What should we wear, Sami?”

  “I think dark blue or tan to match Molly's plaid,” I said.

  She nodded. “Well, then. Let's find our dresses.”

  Day 37

  My Dress Is So Hot

  If Adan doesn't drool all over me when I'm wearing my dress—well, it's technically called a gown—then he's one big loser.

  It's light tan, strapless, and has an empire waist. A shimmery, wispy cream fabric lies on top of the tan so I look like I'm floating.

  When I tried it on in the dressing room, all three of us agreed it was the dress for me. Mom says it makes me look long and graceful. Fiona says I look like a Greek goddess. How cool is that?

  Molly Is Nuts

  She's getting married in two days, and she's going insane.

  It's like watching a grown adult turn into a lovesick teenage weirdo.

  Fiona is not far behind. All she keeps talking about is her date, Shane.

  I have a date, but I'm not turning in
to a talks-amile-a-minute lunatic.

  Mom has a date, too. Dad is coming. He'll be here later tonight. That's so cool. I've been so involved with life here that I've barely mentioned Dad. I've missed him.

  Mom and I have made a list of what we want him to see while he's here. Then he'll fly home with us.

  We're leaving two days after the wedding. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I've missed my friends, the mall, electricity, running water, Dad, and my bed. But . . . I really like it here.

  Day 38

  Dad's Here

  Dad rented a car and arrived at our cottage early this afternoon. Mom saw the car pull up and ran out the door before he could park. She bounced up and down like a little kid, and when Dad got out she ran and jumped into his arms. He picked her up and spun her around.

  I didn't realize how much Mom had missed Dad until they stopped spinning and I saw the tears in her eyes. Dad kissed her on the cheek, put her down, and turned toward me. “Get over here, Sami!” he shouted.

  I didn't realize how much I'd missed him until I was running toward him with my arms outstretched. He came loping toward me. We must have looked like some dorky commercial or something, running across a field toward each other. He swooped me up into a giant bear hug.

  “Ah, I missed my girl,” he said.

  “I missed you too, Dad.”

  Dinner

  Mom and I had worked all morning on our meal for Dad. We wanted to impress him with our wood-burning-stove cooking skills. We'd made kettle bread, which is called that because it has to cook in a sealed kettle sitting in the coals. We also made potato scones and baked salmon.

  Mom wanted to cook a traditional Scottish meal for Dad, so Molly came over yesterday and showed us how to make everything using the coals.

  The three of us sat at the table. Mom and Dad couldn't stop smiling. It was weird to see my parents so geeked out over each other.

  “You've liked it here, Sami?” Dad asked.

  I nodded. “Very much.”

  He raised his eyebrows and looked at Mom. “Scotland seems to suit her.”

  Mom laughed. “Probably has something to do with Adan.”

  I held my breath.