Chapter 13
I fell asleep quickly last night, but now I’m wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
Per the welcome packet we received upon check-in, complimentary breakfast ends in twenty minutes. I know I should head down and eat something before we leave via bus, then train, then bus again, but I don’t know if I want to see Jacob or my father just yet.
I don’t even know if I should continue on with them.
Jacob’s on top of things, my father’s clearly in good hands, and Maggie’s fine. I should probably stay here for the repairs to be finished and just let the two of them go on without me.
My stomach rumbles, and I force myself out of bed, pushing my hair out of my face. I need to eat something, even if it’s just to suppress this vaguely nauseous sensation rising within me.
I get dressed quickly, clipping back my bangs instead of trying to style them. When I arrive for breakfast, the four small tables in the dining room are empty.
I take a seat, a little relieved to see that neither Jacob nor my father are here, just as an older woman enters the room.
Her hair is snow white, and the backs of her hands are so pale they appear translucent, blue veins visible from a distance. I’m not sure how old she is, but she looks older than my father or Maggie. I’m surprised she’s not retired.
“Good morning,” she says, her accent deeper than anything I’ve heard during my time here so far. “Do you take tea or coffee?”
“Tea would be great,” I say. “Thank you.”
She steps away, lifting a ceramic pot off a side table and bringing it to me, but I rise and take it from her.
“I can manage,” I say, and she nods.
“Everything’s laid out there,” she says, waving to the side table. “A small spread this morning, but there’s toast and scones and sausage.”
“Thank you,” I say.
The door from the kitchen swings open, and an older man joins us, placing a bowl of some kind of porridge on the table.
“Iain,” the woman says, her voice gentle but chastising. “You don’t need to be doing this today.”
“Dinna fash. It’s the last of it,” he says.
“Last of it or not, I told you I’d be taking care of breakfast this morning.”
He huffs out a breath and goes back through the door to the kitchen. The woman follows him.
I pick up my plate, fill it with items from the side table, and begin eating, the room completely silent, until I hear someone clearing their throat behind me.
“Good morning,” a man’s voice says.
I swallow my bite of scone, knowing who it is before I even see him.
Jacob takes a seat in the chair across from me, and it takes me a while to realize why he looks different this morning.
Pillow lines streak across his cheek, and faint hints of stubble run along his jaw.
He must not have shaved this morning, and I think he might have just rolled out of bed. He looks so sleep-rumpled.
“Morning,” I say. “Food’s over there.” I incline my head toward the side of the room, but Jacob doesn’t move in that direction.
“I already ate,” he says. “I was down here earlier.”
“Okay,” I reply, unsure why he came back down, then. “We aren’t leaving until eleven, right?” That’s when the first bus we need to take is scheduled to leave. That is, if I decide to go with them.
“No,” he says. “Actually, I don’t think we’re leaving at all today.
” He rubs a hand across the back of his neck.
“That’s what I came down to tell you. When Maggie learned we were having car trouble, she asked if we could wait for it to be fixed before coming there.
” He pauses. “She said she could use the extra time, a couple days to herself to figure things out.”
My brows rise. “Did she tell you this?”
“No, apparently this is what she told Ajit yesterday over the phone.” He stops, shifting in his seat. “Your father only told me about it this morning, when I checked in on him.”
The back of my neck prickles.
I wonder how my dad is doing. He looked so down after that call yesterday, but at least he’s sharing how he feels with someone now. Not with me, of course, but he’s talking to Jacob.
“I’m going to head to the garage in a bit to get a better estimate on when the repairs might be done, but I wanted to talk to you first.” Jacob’s fingers play with the edge of the tablecloth, his thumb smoothly gliding across it.
“I’ve actually come down a couple times, but I didn’t see you here until now.
” His fingers still, and I find him watching me, his gaze steady behind the thin frames of his glasses.
“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”
Surprise hums through me, but he’s not done speaking.
“You were right last night. I made all these assumptions about everything, about your father and you, and I’m sorry about that.
About the things I said, and how I’ve been acting since…
I hadn’t understood—I still don’t understand everything, really.
” He pauses. “I’ve been in and out of therapy for years, though I’ve been out of it for a while now, and I’ve been told I can be a little overprotective.
That losing my parents has made me overprotective of the people I love.
” He huffs out a breath. “My therapist wasn’t the only one who said it.
My sisters did too. They thought I was too overbearing as an older brother.
It’s maybe why they left, why they live so far away now, but I can acknowledge that I have a tendency to act that way.
With them, and with Maggie. And your father too.
But it…it came out wrong here. I made all these judgments about you, and you were right.
I don’t know your story, or your relationship with your dad, and I’m… I’m just sorry. About all of it.”
“I…” I lick my dry lips, and I don’t miss the way he notices the gesture, the way his eyes follow the movement. Words escape me for a long moment, but then I finally speak.
“Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate that.”
I inwardly wince at how cold my response sounds, but I’m taken aback. I didn’t expect an apology from Jacob this morning. I didn’t know what to expect from him at all.
I’m trying to think of something more substantial to say when a middle-aged white man barrels into the room. He’s clad in a black suit, a panicked expression on his face.
“Where’s Iain?” the man asks, his gaze swinging around the room. “Iain?” he calls, his voice louder.
“He was in the kitchen earlier,” I say, and the man’s attention snaps to me.
“Thank you,” he says, hurrying in that direction, wrenching open the door and disappearing inside.
Jacob and I look at each other, bemused.
“I wonder what that was about,” he says.
“No idea.” I lift my teacup, intending to refill it with the pot from the side table, but hesitate a moment. “Do you want more tea?”
“I…yes,” he says. “Please.”
I carry both of our cups over, filling them and then balancing them carefully as I bring them back.
“Cream and sugar’s over there, but I don’t know how you take it,” I say.
He peers at mine, then gestures for me to pass him my cup. “I’ll do it. I can do yours too. How much do you take?”
“Oh,” I say. “No, I drink mine black.”
His hand retracts. “You drink your tea black?”
“Uh, yes?” I take a sip of it, and his face contorts with amusement and horror in equal measure.
“That is appalling,” he says. “Drinking chaya black?”
“Okay, hold on a second. This isn’t real chai. It’s just English Breakfast tea. I wouldn’t drink chai without milk and sugar.”
“Hmm,” he says, a grin playing around his mouth.
It makes something leap within me, seeing that relaxed, cheeky expression on his face again.
“That’s a little more acceptable, then.” He gets up, adds a bit of milk and sugar to his tea, and returns, stirring it. He takes a long sip with a proper slurping sound, and I laugh.
“I don’t see how you’re the one to judge on what’s acceptable.”
His grin grows then, as if this was the response he’d been hoping for, as if he exaggerated that slurp just for me.
“When are you leaving for the garage?” I ask.
“Soon,” he says. “We’re in no rush now, since we’re not trying to leave today, so maybe after we finish our tea?”
“I’ll come with you,” I say, and he stills. “Is that okay?”
“Yes,” he says. “That would be nice, actually. Thank you.” His foot bounces under the table, and I can feel it, the vibrations traveling through the wood.
“I was going to stop and pick up some takeaway after we visit the garage. Elsie said the restaurant here would be closed for lunch and dinner today, so it’d be helpful to have an extra pair of hands to bring everything back. ”
“Elsie?”
“The owner? She and her husband run this place. They weren’t at the front desk last night, but they were down here this morning.” His foot’s still moving, but he stops when he catches me staring at it.
“I don’t know if I’ll be hungry after this,” I say.
“Me either, but…your dad didn’t want to come down this morning, and I figure he’ll be hungry later.” His foot bounces again. “I noticed an Indian place near the garage yesterday. I thought he might like that. It’s been a while since we’ve had some.”
“There’s an Indian restaurant? Here?” This village is tiny. I didn’t expect them to have many options.
“This is Scotland,” Jacob says with an easy smile. “There’s Indian food everywhere. I actually know this guy who runs an Indian takeaway all the way in the Outer Hebrides. People place their orders in advance because delivery can take up to two days to get there.”
“Really?” I say. “I’m not sure I even know where that is.”
“Isles even farther out from the mainland than Skye. I’ve never been, but James has.
It’s actually a mutual friend of ours who runs the takeaway.
James had talked about us doing a trip to go visit him, but…
” Jacob trails off, lifting a shoulder helplessly.
“James traveled constantly, and I’d join him sometimes.
Before. But I wish I’d said yes to more trips. ”
He smiles, but it’s bittersweet, regret and longing woven together.
“Anywhere in particular the two of you wanted to go?”