Skye’s at the kitchen table in her dressing gown when we come through the back door.
She’s petite. Not even five feet tall. To think this giant came out of her. She has soft brown hair that’s gone half-grey at the temples, her kids blue eyes, and a face that wears its smile lines like medals. She’s hugged me about a hundred times in three days, called me hen and lass and love andmy Lisa,and made me tea, asking:tell me about the heat, Lisa, oh I cannae imagine it.
She looks up, smiles, and lifts the kettle.
“Cocoa, my loves?”
“No thanks, Mum. We’re for bed.”
“Aye,” she winks at me. “I’ll justbetye are.”
I giggle.
“Mum,” Adam chastises her through a chuckle, shaking his head.
“Hush. Goodnight, my lovelies.”
She crosses the kitchen to kiss my cheek, her hand cupping the side of my face.
“Sleep well.”
“Thanks. You too, Skye.”
Then she turns to Adam and pats his cheek.
He looks down at her with all the softness in the world. This giant, terrifying man who’s nothing but love and warmth around his loved ones.
“Behave.”
“Mm.”
“AdamAndrewMaksimov.”
He laughs again. “Aye, Mum. I’ll behave.”
She narrows her eyes, and he grins. Then she shoos us up the stairs.
The house creaks under us…old wood, old stone, the wind blowing outside. The stairs are narrow; photos going back generations hang on the walls: Adam at six on a fat pony, Fiona with her front teeth gone, a thirty-year-old wedding picture of Skye and Jamie, Jamie in a kilt, Skye laughing at something out of frame. Beautiful. Home.
I stop on the landing, staring at little Adam grinning in his picture. Thesamebandit’s grin. At six.
“Adam.”
He leans into me, his arms circling my body. “Aye, love.”
I lean back, giving him my weight. “You were cute.”
“…aye, I was.”
“You wereadorable.”
He chuckles. “Get in the room, hen.”
“Yourcheeks…”
He scoops me up and carries me the rest of the way. Kicks the door open, steps in, and pushes it shut. We’re in his childhood bedroom. It has big, low-beamed, white walls, a wide bed under the window, a wooden trunk at the foot, and an old desk with a row of books. The curtains are drawn back, and we can see the dark loch outside, reflecting the moon.
My husband sets me on the bed and stands over me. The grin is gone as he looks down at his wife in his childhood bed.
