Chapter 3
July, This Year
Sometimes I think the worst thing that ever happened to my kids was moving to the mainland.
While the small population of kids here were still into their phones and social media, they had more patience and a connection to nature that seemed to ground them in an understanding of what truly mattered in life.
Since my daughter Heather and son Angus had moved to Oban to live with their mum and stepdad, I’d noticed subtle changes over time, especially in Heather.
I understood it because she was almost eighteen.
But Angus was definitely more into video games than nature now, and that was new.
“No, Dad, nooouhhhh,” Angus whined, his head lolling dramatically. “I’m supposed to log on at eleven to play Valor Star with my pals.”
Online gaming? He was nine. “Does your mum let you play?”
Before he could answer, Heather clattered her coffee mug down on my island. “At least you can meet up with your friends online.” She cut me a dark look. “My friends are all in Paris together while I’m stuck here.”
Indignation and something I hated to admit was hurt burned at the base of my throat.
“You leave for university at the end of the summer. These two weeks are my time with you. Why would you try to book a holiday with your friends during the only time your dad gets to see you before you go off into the world as an adult?”
“We’ll see each other a couple of weekends before I leave too. Ick. Don’t emotionally guilt me, Dad. Red flag vibes.”
I shook my head because sometimes it honestly seemed like she was speaking another language.
“Dad-uh!” Angus whined again. “Please.”
“No. I’ve packed a picnic with all your favorite food and we’re spending the day together.”
“But—”
“I took two weeks off a big project to be with you, and whether any of us like it, we are spending the bloody day together.” I pointed to the door. “Now put on your shoes and get in the car or I will take every single electronic device away from you both for the entire time you’re here.”
At least one thing hadn’t changed. My kids knew when they’d pushed Dad to his limits. Or at least Angus did. He considered me. “What kind of favorite food?”
I grinned because that was more like him. “Sandwiches and cakes from the bakery.”
“Nice!” Angus beamed and hurried to put on his trainers. Heather stared defiantly at me. Not moving.
Kiera had warned me when I picked them up from her house. “Heather is all over the place. One minute she’s fine, the next she’s biting off our heads. I think she’s nervous for uni, and this is how the nerves are coming out.”
I reminded myself of Kiera’s opinion as I said quietly, “Please, flower. Let’s spend a nice day together.”
Something softened in her expression, and she slipped off the stool to follow Angus. I grabbed my car keys and trailed the kids out of the house. They were bitching to each other about who was sitting up front. They couldn’t agree on anything these days.
“Enough.” I settled a hand on Angus’s shoulder. “In the back.”
“Why does she get to sit up front every time?” Angus grumbled.
“Your sister is the eldest, so she gets to sit in the front. When she goes to uni, you’ll get to sit in the front.”
“Unless Dad miraculously finds a girlfriend.” Heather’s smirk was mocking. “Then she’ll sit in the front.”
“Nuh-uh.” Angus scrunched up his face.
“If you get in the car, I’ll take you fishing tomorrow.”
He scrambled in, reached for the door handle, and pulled it shut with a big grin. I chuckled and looked over at Heather.
“So, what am I supposed to do when you two are fishing?”
“Come with us.”
She let out a beleaguered huff. “Aye, no thanks.”
“I could see if Aunt Cammie is around to keep you company?”
“I gave up Paris to be here, and you’re leaving me with Aunt Cammie.” She jumped into the passenger seat and slammed her door.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I took a few deep breaths before I got in. Heather adored her Aunt Cammie and loved spending time with her, so I knew she was just trying to wind me up.
I’d barely pulled away from our house when my daughter muttered, “Fuck’s sake.”
“Excuse me.” I slowed the car to give her a pointed look.
Heather’s eyes narrowed. “Hazel posted a photo of her and Olivia at the Eiffel Tower together. I should be in that photo.”
“And how were you planning to pay for that trip?” I pulled out onto the A road that either took you farther into Glenvulin or back toward Leth Sholas. I was heading to just outside Leth Sholas.
“I have money saved.”
“From the money your mum and stepdad give you and you will need for uni.” It was the only point of contention between me and Kiera on raising the kids.
I’d wanted Heather to get a job at sixteen, so she’d learn the value of earning her own money.
Kiera wanted her to concentrate on school.
I argued she could do both. Kiera told me I didn’t understand the pressures of higher education because I’d gone straight into a trade apprenticeship at sixteen.
However, I remembered Taran studying for her exams, getting into a good university, all while working as a sales assistant at the fishmonger on the weekends.
It could be done.
“Ugh, here we go again.” Heather shook her head. “Is it your job to make me feel bad all the time, Dad?”
Guilt pricked at me. “No. Of course not. You know I’m proud of you for getting into Glasgow.”
“And Aberdeen, St. Andrews, and Edinburgh.”
“Aye. It’s really great. But I think you’re going to have a shock when you get to Glasgow and you have to live on a student budget.”
“I qualified for a loan to pay for accommodation and my books.”
“How are you planning to pay for food, for clothes, for socializing?” I asked, not for the first time.
Heather let out a grunt of disbelief. “You and Mum, of course.”
“Is that what you think?” Christ. These kids. “Heather, you’re eighteen in six weeks. You need to start thinking about how you’re going to pay for yourself as an adult.”
“So what? I turn an arbitrary bloody age and suddenly you’re booting me out on my own. Aye, that makes sense. Nice parenting skills, Dad.”
“I never said you’re on your own. You know your mum and I will never let anything happen to you. But I want you to at least be thinking about covering your own responsibilities.”
“Heather thinks money grows on trees,” Angus piped up from the back.
“I’m not the one asking Mum for a new pair of trainers every two weeks,” she sniped back.
“No, you’re just spending the money Mum gives you on weed and drink.”
Heather lunged toward the back of the car. “You wee lying shite!”
They slapped and kicked at each other feebly, confined by their seat belts and positions, so I let it happen, trying not to seethe over Angus’s insinuations.
My truck bumped along the narrow track road toward the cove of a lesser-known tiny beach.
As I parked the car, Angus was pretending to cry and Heather was filming him, mocking his fake tears.
I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the headrest.
“Weed?” I barked.
Silence fell and I opened my eyes. My daughter lowered her phone and turned to glower out the windscreen. “He’s lying.”
“I want you to look at me and promise you’re not smoking weed.”
She rolled her eyes first and then swung her head around. Her face was slathered with so much makeup, I barely recognized her. “I do not smoke weed. Though, according to you, I’m an adult in six weeks, so if I wanted to smoke weed, I could smoke weed, right?”
“No, because it’s illegal.”
Heather scowled. “Whatever. Maybe instead of coming down on me for something I didn’t even do, you should talk to Angus about his lying phase.
Did Mum tell you he got in trouble for lying to everyone at school because he thought it made him look cool?
He told everyone that Mum lets him drink alcohol and Mum got dragged down to the headteacher’s office. ”
“Heather!” Angus shrieked in outrage and then promptly burst into real tears.
Twenty minutes later after I’d had a quiet talk with Angus about the dangers and moral wrongness of lying, I somehow managed to wrangle my son and daughter onto the beach.
Kiera hadn’t told me about the school situation with our son, and I was pissed off about that too.
It wasn’t a small thing that she’d been questioned by the school about her parenting.
If they still lived on the island, I would already know about it. I made a mental note to call her later.
I’d been so caught up in the kids’ constant bickering while trying to carry the picnic stuff down the steep incline and making sure the kids made it down, I didn’t notice the beach was occupied.
Until Heather perked up. “Is that Taran Macbeth?”
Sure enough, Taran sat a few meters away on her own wee tartan blanket with a book in her hand. She looked like a rabbit caught in a trap as she gaped at us. “Uh, hi,” she finally offered.
“Are you reading Fourth Wing?” Heather strode through the sand toward Taran, her tone suddenly light and curious.
The only time she was bubbly and sociable lately was whenever we bumped into Tierney and/or London. And, of course, when their aunt Cammie came around. Heather idolized Cammie and was like a different person with her.
I, on the other hand, only seemed able to push my daughter further away.
“I am.” Taran waved the paperback in her hand. “Have you read it?”
Heather kneeled beside her. “I loved it. Wait until you read book three.”
Taran cocked her head on a smile. Her dark hair spilled down her shoulders in shiny waves with the movement. “Is it good?”
“Aye. I love romantasy, though. I’ve got loads of recs, if you want them.”
I didn’t know that. Why the hell didn’t I know that? I’d never heard of romantasy. What was romantasy? My gaze moved between Heather and Taran, ludicrous envy striking me in the chest at how easily the two females conversed while neither seemed to want to say two words to me.