Chapter Two
“Oh, wow.”
I blinked at the man in front of me and did my best to understand what he’d just said. I knew it was a question, but pertaining to what? Only the universe knew. The airport bustled around me, making it harder to understand the ginger-haired man when he leaned closer to me and repeated his question.
I’d just stepped through customs was waiting on the ride Agnes has assured me would come when the man had rushed up to me and began talking. Now I was doing my best to decipher his words. Jesus H, why hadn’t I thought to listen to some “learn Scottish in 15 minutes a day” videos on my eighteen-hour flight? Oh right, I’d been busy getting tipsy on champagne and relishing in my newfound spontaneity.
“The bog?” I tried, and glanced around the airport with a shake of my head. We were in the middle of gleaming chrome and glass. What did he mean, a bog? There couldn’t be one for miles, right? Maybe I was wrong and there was a bog here? “I don’t understand,” I offered with a wince.
The man rubbed a hand over his face and then pointed behind me. “Tha’ bog,” he said, as if speaking to a child. I might have rolled my eyes but my helplessness kept me from it. Following his finger, I scrunched up my nose at the sight of the sign for the bathroom.
“Bathroom?”
This time he made a face. “D’ya take a bath innit?”
“What?” I gaped.
He laughed and then gestured for me to follow him. “Let’s get on then, lassie.”
“Um…” I hurried after him, because the man showed no sign of slowing down. “Did Agnes send you?”
He grunted and gave me a nod. “Sent me round to fetch yeh.”
“How’d you know it was me?” I asked curious as to how he’d managed to pin me down in the sea of arriving passengers.
James shrugged. “Only one who dinna have someone waitin’ fer them.”
His words put a lump in my throat. I’d never traveled alone and when I did it was for work. James’s words reminded me just how out of my element I was. And how very much alone I was while doing it. I pushed past my the pang of loneliness that had unexpectedly stabbed me and gave him a smile.
“Thank you for coming to get me.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Delilah.”
“James,” he said, giving my hand a quick shake. Then he eyed the lone duffle bag slung over my shoulder. “Only brought the one?”
“Yes,” I said, fingers worrying the strap over my shoulder, “I like to travel light.”
I hadn’t thought much about outfits when I’d packed for the trip. My prized red dress, a few thick sweaters, a couple pairs of jeans and my sturdiest pair of boots had rounded out my packing. I’d opted to wear layers for the trip and the blast of winter air that hit me in the face as soon as James and I left the airport had me grateful for it.
I yanked my scarf tighter as we made our way toward James’s vehicle. A nice dependable, if tiny, two-door truck that looked capable of handling the snow falling around us. On my lengthy flight, I’d read that snow over the holidays was chancy in Scotland and that visitors might get the treat if they were lucky. I’d never seen snow before. It was a seasonal luxury most Texans only heard tall tales of. And now here I was in Scotland, experiencing it for myself. I was transfixed by the sight of it.
Magical. Or insane, but I guess that just depended on who was looking at it.
I smiled, holding out a gloved hand to catch a snowflake. It seemed that I was one of the lucky ones.
Not a bad way to start my time in Scotland if I did say so myself. Once we were settled into James’s truck, the cheery man wasted no time in making for Sithean. The ride was pleasant, with James keeping up a steady stream of conversation, of which I understood about half. I tried not to be annoyed with my lack of comprehension, considering there would be other truck rides. I was grateful for James’s kindness and openness. It made the two-hour journey pass easily enough, and by the time we arrived in town I felt both confident and excited for my adventure as an apprentice.
I’d done it. Truly. There was no going back now. What had started out as a bid to prove my siblings wrong, to reclaim some hope for the future, was now real. I was really, truly, in Scotland. I’d never so much as set foot outside of Texas, and now here I was(mostly)keeping up a conversation with a Scotsman I’d only just met.
I felt like I was in a fairytale. The wild scenery of Scotland had enchanted me: stretches of beautiful pastures interrupted by lakes and mountains, and stones so cruel and sharp-looking they made me think of teeth. Snow—real snow, a thing I hadn’t experienced until now—covered everything in a dreamy filter that made me giddy.
The Scottish countryside was ethereal in its untamed beauty. There was a rawness that made my soul ache, that whispered to me in a language I didn’t understand but wanted to chase after with all my heart.
“Och aye!” James threw up his hands in frustration.
Speaking of languages I didn’t understand...
We were sitting at a red light which had just turned a merry green, but an elderly woman crossing the street at a snail’s pace barred the way. I covered my mouth to hide the smile on my face when the woman turned and gave James the stink-eye. If anything, his impatience made the woman walk slower. She looked half-tempted to walk up to the driver’s side door and give his window a smack with her cane, until James gave her a placating smile and a forced wave.
I watched the quaint streets of Sithean roll past as James drove us toward the bakeshop. Like the other storefronts on the bustling street, it was brick with wide expanses of glass. Gold filigree lettering covered the windows and white stone columns framed the doorway, lending a classic look to it in harmony with the rest of the street. But unlike the other shops, delicious smells wafted from its door. I caught sight of the blonde woman practically bouncing with excitement on the sidewalk. She waved at us as James pulled up in front of Me, Myself, and Pie.
