Chapter 6
Chapter Six
S omehow, returning to Barra had thrust Bryan right back into the same patterns of insomnia he’d left behind at seventeen, and the American Invasion was only partially responsible. Sure , he saw her dark brown eyes with flecks of shining ochre every time he closed his own, but he only closed them because everywhere else he looked, he saw his grandad.
This cottage had been his refuge as a boy—every time school became a bit too much or his father’s disappointment weighed too heavily. Grandad Mac didn’t care if words played hide-and-seek with Bryan’s tongue or if his penmanship resembled the same scrambled chaos he saw upon each page of text. Grandad only cared that Bryan wasn’t afraid of slow worms and that he could distinguish between the calls of a guillemot, a puffin, and a kittiwake.
The old man had nourished Bryan’s curiosity when most everyone else gave up on him as stupid. He’d recognized Bryan’s hunger to love and be loved by anyone who’d have him, and he’d always, always accepted Bryan just as he came. In return, Bryan had spent every possible second here in this drafty home, learning about the flora and fauna of the isle, picking up bits of spoken Ghàidhlig , and learning how to fix things around the place.
They’d been an almost feral pack of lost boys, Eòghann , Alec , Bryan , and Teàrlach , and Grandad Mac had encouraged them to leave, though he might have wished for them all to stay forever. In the end, only Eòghann had stayed, and Bryan constantly second-guessed how things might have turned out if he’d stayed too.
He loved the old house, but even after receiving word it was his, he didn’t come right away. It stood as a stark reminder of his darkest days, a cave for him to hide in when the world was too big or too cruel.
And he still didn’t understand why him.
He wasn’t the oldest grandson. The cottage had belonged to Great Grandad MacNeil before Grandad Mac took it over, so it could just as easily have gone to Eòghann . Loyal Eòghann , who’d never left the island and never would, was Grandad’s nephew and Bryan’s double cousin. The family tree got complicated fast when uncle and nephew married a pair of half sisters.
Everyone on the island probably thought the house should have gone to Eòghann , though he’d already inherited Grandad B’s place, and if not Eòghann , then Bryan’s father or Cait should have been next in line. Instead , it was left to Bryan , just one more thing his father would probably hold against him until the end of time. And the neighbors, too. They saw Grandad Mac’s as a slice of history, a history Bryan had trampled by leaving, one he had no right to reclaim now.
Despite his unworthiness, though, Bryan was grateful. He was excited. He only hoped Eòghann was right about the old man appreciating his plan.
He flopped away from the twilit windows, like a dolphin breeching the surf, and noticed a bouncing light filtering under his door accompanied by the soft creeping sounds of someone trying to move quietly through an unfamiliar environment.
He ought to ignore it. Ought to let them be.
Except what if they needed something?
He rolled his eyes. What would Grandad Mac think of his predicament?
The old man would probably find the whole situation hilarious.
Dragging himself out of bed, Bryan padded to the kitchen in his joggers without stopping to pull on a shirt. There , he found the American holding her phone as a flashlight while she rifled through a stack of papers on the counter.
“If you’re a robber, you’re terrible at it and there’s nothing to nick,” he said, making her jump.
She whirled on him with what looked like an apology on her lips until she took in his naked torso and not-quite-as-defined-as-they-once-were abs.
“I didn’t take you for a light sleeper,” she said, and out of habit he tossed her a lascivious grin.
“You’ve thought about me sssleeping?” he teased, immediately regretting his word choice because the accidental sibilance turned it extra creepy.
She shot him an ice-cold glare, making him cross his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“I was looking for the Wi - Fi password. I tried to guess, but RyanMacNeilLivesHere didn’t work.”
Bryan hated hearing her use that name, but he didn’t want to get into it tonight. “ Wi - Fi ? At two in the morning?”
“It’s only nine p.m. at home. What’s your excuse?”
“A very large kitchen mouse,” he said.
She pursed her lips. “ Are you calling me fat?”
That was not what he’d meant at all. Why did everything get twisted about as the words traveled from his brain to his mouth? “ Tall .”
She leaned her head skeptically to the side, because at her height, no one had probably ever called her tall in her life.
“For a mouse,” he explained.
She kept glaring, so he turned to the fridge, where Cait had left the password under a bumblebee magnet. He handed it over in a gesture of truce, trying not to notice the distracting way bits of her hair fell down from the messy pile at the top of her head, framing her face.
“Is it fast enough to stream?” she asked, waving her phone.
“Couldn’t tell you. Wi - Fi hardly existed when I left home.”
Her eyes crinkled. “ God , that makes you sound ancient,” she said in a tone which included herself in the ancient crowd.
“Makes me feel ancient,” he agreed. “ Hot FaceTime date?”
She rolled her eyes. “ Soccer game. Sorry , football ,” she corrected dramatically. “ It’s a stupid superstition, but I don’t like to miss a match.”
Bryan nodded. “ I get it.” It was sweet, actually—little sister watching her brother’s games from half a world away. It was also the perfect opening to tell her he knew Diego . He should tell her. He had to tell her.
He turned on the TV and navigated to download and log into the app she would need.
“Oh, I should probably—” she said, reaching for the remote, but he put in his details and the MLS games came up. She cocked her head in surprise.
“Galaxy?” he asked, turning on the pre-game.
“How did you?—?”
“Rios? He’s your brother, aye? Diego ?”
She tilted her head again, blinking, clearly tired as her mind tried to catch up. “ You remember him from Celtic ? Or … did you know him? Through Teàrlach ?”
Bryan nodded. Through Teàrlach was technically true. It didn’t really do their friendship justice, but he hadn’t really done their friendship justice, either, not for years now.
“Wait, were you at the wedding? You couldn’t have been. I’d remember you.”
Bryan’s mouth went dry, though she didn’t seem to realize she’d said she found him memorable. “ No . Couldn’t make it.”
She nodded and turned back to the TV where they were starting an interview with her brother.
“I wish the bride hadn’t been able to make it,” she muttered.
An unexpected grin slid across his face before he could stop it, and she turned back to him in horror, like she was afraid he’d sell a soundbite to the press.
“I didn’t say that out loud,” she whispered.
“Didn’t hear it,” he replied, and they both turned back to the TV , where Bryan raised the volume a fraction so she could listen to the midfielder’s voice.
She frowned. “ Does he look tired to you?”
“He would be, wouldn’t he?” Bryan said without thinking. Diego did look a bit worn out, and maybe he had dark circles under his eyes. Bryan was certainly tired, and he didn’t run laps with twenty-year-olds for a living.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, instantly defensive once again.
He shrugged. “ None of us is getting any younger, as you recently mentioned.”
“He’s barely thirty-three!”
“Which is about five years older than the average. Geriatric in footballer years.” It was true, but why couldn’t he stop needling her?
“He’s the heart and soul of his team,” she said fiercely, but with an edge of something like worry.
“Maybe he’s just tired. Maybe an earthquake kept him up.”
“Yeah. An earthquake called Mathilda Rivers .” Grace glowered at the TV where the interview had ended and the national anthem was about to begin. It was time for Bryan to offer a proper truce by retreating to his room.
“He’s tough. He’ll be fine. If you need help with the Wi - Fi … give Caitriona a call,” he said with a devilish tone, and she snorted.
The stifled laughter did funny things to his stomach—unwelcome things. She was his friend’s sister. A tourist. She was not for him.
“Good night, Rios ,” he said to put some distance between them. “ If you change your mind, I’m sure Cait left Mull Cheddar in the fridge,” he added before making himself scarce.
* * *
Despite not sleeping, he was up and champing at the bit by an ungodly hour. He’d already drunk two cups of coffee before Wesley made an appearance, tousled and chipper, like a windswept mountain sprite.
“Hungry?” he asked, but she shook her head.
“Just eager to get out there and ramble.”
“Ramble?” he asked, a little concerned she might get lost or end up somewhere she oughtn’t go. “ Anywhere in mind?”
Again she shook her head, though she didn’t seem put off by his anxious questioning. “ Everywhere ,” she said with a wistful tone. “ I want to see it all.”
“Ah.” Bryan remembered the glasses case his cousin had given him the night before and fished it out of his jacket pocket. “ Teàrlach found these. Are they either of yours?”
Her warm expression shuttered, but she reached for the leather case. “ Thanks ,” she said without enthusiasm. “ I was hoping I lost them.”
Bryan quirked his head to the side, and she glanced at him sheepishly.
“Any tips for a nice ramble?”
“Good footwear and a warm jumper. If you come across a wee s-snake, don’t worry. They’re harmless. Also endangered, so no tromping on them.”
“Noted,” she agreed. “ What if I don’t see it, and step on it by accident?”
“Run,” he said with a grin.
“Who knew there were so many rules?”
He shrugged. “ The snails are edible.”
Wes grimaced.
“Really don’t want to eat first?”
“A nice bowl of snails? No , thanks, I just want to get out there,” she said, filling up her water bottle from the tap.
“Tablet for the road, then,” he said, offering up a small bag of the sweet treat Cait had left, which Wes accepted before saluting and heading off down the beach.
Though it didn’t come naturally, Bryan had intended to play the gracious host, to wait until a respectful hour before making so much as a single floorboard creak. But then his sister texted that Ma couldn’t wait to see him for tea tonight. And his investor emailed to say they’d arrive in Glasgow on business in three weeks and would take the ferry out to see his island and his proof of concept, and just like that, he couldn’t afford to wait another minute to get started.
It was over a dram of Rionnagach , discussing his and Jules ’ shared passion for whisky and their individual hopes for the future, when he first realized the house’s potential. Today it was a dark, slightly chilly haven, but he could transform it into a beautiful symbol of growth and sustainability. Almost immediately, he’d begun making plans to return home.
Now, the leisurely vegetarian fry-up he’d planned was shoved aside for a bowl of cold muesli while he waited for Dàibhidh Buchanan’s hardware store to open.
* * *
“Aye, your solar panels arrived last week,” cousin Dàibhidh whispered. “ But are you sure you want to put those things up for the whole island to see?”
“Aye,” Bryan assured him. They weren’t so bad looking.
“Only, your grandad’s place has such a lovely thatch roof,” Dàibhidh protested.
“Aye,” Bryan agreed, although the thatch was only in front for looks. The back was pure shingle. He’d helped change it over seventeen years ago, side by side with Grandad Mac and Eòghann .
“Just, d’you mind not telling folk I ordered them for you?”
Bryan eyed his mother’s cousin and shrugged, tossing the other odds and ends he needed onto the counter.
Dàibhidh rang up his purchases, glancing nervously around the store each time another old man came in for a browse and a chat. Finally he whispered, “ Pull around back, and I’ll have the lad load you up.”
Nodding his thanks, Bryan took the bag of tools and fittings. He’d expected a little resistance from the town, but Dàibhidh’s anxiety was killing his confidence.
“Lùcas!” Dàibhidh shouted out the back to a sullen boy Bryan had seen pretending not to sing his baleful Taylor Swift in the direction of another oblivious lad at karaoke the night before. “ That lot in the back shed,” Dàibhidh instructed. “ Help your cousin load it up.”
Lùcas shook the dark fringe out of his eyes and unfolded himself from a stool to amble off towards the shed.
“Eòghann says you’re my Auntie Mal’s son?” he asked, when Bryan finished backing his grandad’s old truck up to the shed.
“Aye.”
“So we’re cousins.”
“Sssecond cousins, I think, aye.”
Together they hefted up the awkward boxes of solar panels one at a time and loaded them into the truck.
“Eòghann says you’re renovating Old Mac’s place?”
Eòghann had certainly shared a lot of information in the roughly ten hours since Bryan had seen him. “ Does he?”
“Says maybe you’d give me a job.”
Bryan lifted his chin to peer down at the lad, wondering whether Eòghann had really said any such thing.
“Is it true you left here when you were my age?”
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
Christ, but seventeen looked young these days. “ Aye , it’s true.”
“Why’d you come back?” the boy asked in disbelief.
Bryan leaned on the tailgate crossing his arms. “ Do you know anything about green renovation?” he asked.
“Like green paint?”
“Like environmental s-sustainability.”
Lùcas shook his head.
“Why do you want to work for me?”
“Because you don’t know me, and I don’t know you.”
Bryan laughed. He liked the kid.
“Eòghann’ll vouch for me. Been helping him with odd jobs for years.”
Eòghann would vouch for a Highland coo if it looked at him right. He literally only ever saw the good in anyone, like he was born with rose-colored retinas. “ I’m sure he would,” Bryan said, patting the kid’s shoulder. “ May not be able to pay you for a while.”
“Can you give me a room once the renovating’s over?”
A tiny pang hit Bryan’s gut at the thought—more because it would mean trading one flatmate for another when he craved only solitude, certainly nothing to do with a desire for his current guests to remain. But he could use the help, especially if he was going to finish everything before Jules showed up on the afternoon ferry in three weeks.
“Deal,” Bryan agreed. “ Hop in. You can come today if your da doesn’t mind.”
Lùcas grinned at him and jumped into the passenger seat. “ He can spare me.”
As they drove back to the old stone house, Bryan explained his plans—knocking out the crumbling south wall to install triple-glazed casement windows, building a water reclamation system, and installing hydronic heating under the floors.
“So it’s more than just the panels then? Da says they’ll run you out of town for those alone.”
Bryan took a deep breath. Counted to four. Let it out slowly.
He’d known in his gut the neighbors wouldn’t like it. Gone seventeen years, but people don’t change that much for the simple reason that people don’t change.
“Really want the job?” he asked Lùcas grimly, but the boy tossed him a wicked grin.
“Wouldn’t mind being run out of town, myself.”
“Good.” Bryan pulled the truck onto the beach behind the house and handed over his phone. “ Find a YouTube video about installing this lot,” he said, expecting the kid to scoff at his lack of preparation, but Lùcas just snatched up the phone and did as he was told.
“YouTube says it’s not a job for the faint of heart,” he reported back.
“Not my heart I’m worried about,” Bryan mused. “ You ?”
Lùcas gazed thoughtfully at the gable and shrugged. “ Not my roof.”
Oh, to be seventeen and carefree. Bryan tossed him a pair of work gloves and leaned in close to watch the instructional video.
“Seems easy enough,” the kid said when it finished, not a trace of sarcasm, and Bryan grinned at his young cousin’s easy confidence.
Climbing the ladder onto Grandad Mac’s roof a few minutes later brought back a flood of memories that Bryan should frankly have been prepared for, but they hit him all at once like the air from a jet turbine, so hard and fast he couldn’t face them head on and still breathe. Instead he inspected the shingles.
They were newer, dimensional shingles in remarkably good condition. The roof he’d helped lay had been replaced sometime in the last few years. He’d been half-afraid he would need to do that before mounting the solar panels and beginning his green renovation.
“Eòghann says you’re going to make whisky?” Lùcas asked, stepping off the ladder beside him, staring out at the beach and the ocean and the great wide world beyond.
“That’s the dream.”
“Why?” the lad asked, and he seemed to hang on to his breath, awaiting Bryan’s answer. “ I mean…”
“Good question. I guess cause… I like doing it.”
Lùcas grinned and nodded, and they set to work, laying out the stanchions that would hold each solar panel in place atop its new home.