Makenna
“This is delicious, by the way,” Malcolm says, as if he hadn’t just said the sweetest thing in the sexiest voice possible. He’ll have me here as long as I’ll stay. Did I come on vacation and bump into the nicest doctor in all of Scotland?
“Thank you. I wanted to make you something else Southern. Although, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure it’s necessarily Southern.”
“We do have chicken pie here, although a bit different.” He smiles and man, if it doesn’t send my heart all over the place.
“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it, even if it isn’t the cultural experience that the chocolate gravy was.”
“Now that I’m thinking, a lot of early immigrants from Scotland settled in the South, so I’d bet there’s a fair amount of overlap in culture.” He seems excited by this revelation.
“You know, I’ve felt very at home here. Maybe that’s it. The place seems familiar, even though it isn’t. The people here remind me so much of the Southern hospitality back home. And maybe there are subtle similarities I’m picking up on that I don’t even realize.”
“Likely so. Maybe one day I’ll get to see Georgia, the state, not the country, and see if I feel the same.”
I laugh. “I’d be glad to show you around.”
He takes his last bite and I sip my tea.
“Oh. I almost forgot. I traded some shifts so I can be off tomorrow. I just have to go in late the next morning and do the overnight. And I was thinking, if you’re interested, I have plenty of holiday days I could use later in your trip.
Not that you have to take me along on your adventures, but I thought you might like me to go as your guide. ”
“I’d like you to go as my friend. The guide part would just be a perk. But also, do you really want to take vacation days? It’s nice enough that you’ve switched shifts.”
“I can’t guarantee my request will be approved, but I’ll ask. I’d love to vacation with you as much as I can.”
“I’d like that too.” I can’t believe how well this solo vacation is turning out. Appendicitis aside.
I wake the next morning to the smell of coffee and bacon, with the sun bright in the sky. If I were at home I’d assume it was ten, but the sun rises so early here this time of year, it could be six for all I know.
I reach for my phone to check—it’s almost eight—and find a text from Malcolm.
MALCOLM
I’m stepping out to take something to my friend Rory before he goes on shift. I didny want you to wake and think I’d been kidnapped.
MALCOLM
I’m back, sleepyhead. Only joking. I’m sure the jetlag combined with surgery recovery has your sleep messed up.
Twenty minutes later he’d messaged again.
MALCOLM
It’s probably time for you to wake up.
Sorry, I know it’s still obnoxiously early. I’m just excited to see you.
And breakfast is almost ready.
That was five minutes ago.
He’s excited to see me? That’s … unexpected.
He must really be in need of a friend. Growing up in a big family, maybe he doesn’t enjoy living alone.
He’s used to noise and activity. Maybe me being here is making his house feel more like home.
Or maybe I’m way off base, and growing up in a busy home makes him like the quiet of his own.
But for some reason, he’s excited to see me. That’s nice.
MAKENNA
:) Smells good. Sleepyhead will be right down. And lol that you called me sleepyhead.
I throw on a bra under my pajamas because I really can’t not. I pull my hair on top of my head and walk downstairs. The sound of humming greets me as I round the corner and see Malcolm happily at work in the kitchen. The tune is unfamiliar, but I think it’s my new favorite song.
“Good morning,” he says when he spots me walking his way. “You look like you slept well.”
I laugh. “Do I?”
“Aye. You look well rested, and a little rumpled.” He pauses. “It’s a good look for you.”
I feel my face flame and look down as if I were inspecting my blue tank and cloud-covered shorts. Good grief, this guy is free with the compliments.
“I worked hard to achieve this look,” I joke, hoping to brush aside the compliment, and join Malcolm by the stove. “What do we have here?”
I recognize fried eggs and beans, of course, but I’m not sure about the other two things. One looks like oatmeal. Porridge? Probably. The other thing is black disks. No. Please no. Please tell me it’s not black pudding. Oh he really doesn’t realize what a picky eater I am.
“I thought it was time I cooked something Scottish for you. So I made porridge. That’s one reason I went out this morning. I needed gluten-free oats, and some rice for the blood sausage.”
“You made it, like homemade?” Please say he didn’t make it from scratch. If he did, I’ll have to try it. And there is almost nothing in the world I want less than that.
“Aye. I did.”
I stare down at the food, not moving. What am I going to do? He went to a lot of effort to give me this experience. I’ve got to put on my big girl pants and just do it. I can take one bite of anything, right? And then if—when—I don’t like it, he will accept it and move on.
“Makenna?”
“Hmm?” I turn my head from the scary food I’d been staring at and meet Malcolm's kind gaze.
“I made a vegan version. I didny want to freak you out. It’s made with black beans.”
“Really?”
“Aye. And judging by the look of extreme relief on your face, I made the right call.”
“You really did. That was so thoughtful. I get to have the experience without freaking out.”
He laughs and picks up the spoon to stir the porridge. “I’ve never had it like this, so I can’t guarantee an authentic experience, but you won’t know the difference.”
“And I’m extremely fine with that.”
An hour later and we’re off playing tourist. Or Malcolm is. Despite me telling him over and over again that he didn’t have to come with me, he’s here, and to my great relief, it seems he’s having a good time.
“I can’t believe this is safe to walk in.” We’re several feet from the entrance to the main tower of Urquhart Castle, and I’m gazing up at what used to be five floors of strong stone walls. Now it looks as if a castle and Swiss cheese had a baby.
“It only started to deteriorate in the 1700s. So …” Malcolm makes a joke of the truth.
I huff a laugh. “So maybe three hundred years of deterioration? Is that all?”
“That’s all.” His eyes smile down at me. “Dinnae fash. There has been considerable work to stabilise it. We’ll be fine.”
“I’m not worried about it. Just impressed.”
We climb through the ruins, and when we reach the top, we see Loch Ness below and dark clouds quickly approaching. It was a cloudy day, and we knew there was a chance of rain, but when we arrived the sky didn’t seem threatening, so we left our jackets in the car.
I look around the grounds and find most people have already made their way to their cars. “Looks like we might have to make a run for it,” I say.
“Afraid of a little rain?” Malcolm teases.
I keep myself from glancing down at my white shirt. “It’s not quite warm enough to get soaked through.”
“Aye, right enough. Let’s go.”
By the time we make it to ground level, the bottom has dropped out of the sky. I eye Malcolm and he nods, so I take a few steps to begin jogging when he pulls me to a stop. “You can’t run; it’s too soon after your surgery.”
“Oh, gosh, you’re right.” I guess it would be considered a strenuous activity.
We make our way back to the shelter of the tower, but the damage is done. We’re soaked through.