Chapter 5
American Hannah, I’m officially your hero. I made some calls, pleaded with the embassy, broke into Buckingham Palace to bargain
with the king and queen, and have secured you a position at Inveresk Castle’s gift shop. You will also have a place to stay
there. Not all heroes wear capes, as they say, though they do all seem to be as handsome as I am.
—Finn
You’ve put me in a precarious position, Finn (do NOT say “that’s what she said”). I want to thank you profusely, but you seem
to have patted yourself on the back enough for both of us. If I compliment you at all, I fear your ego will become so inflated,
you’ll simply float away, your life becoming a modern-day Around the World in Eighty Days.
. . . But, thank you. You saved me from a difficult summer back home. I appreciate it.
—American Hannah (I assume there are at least a handful of your conquests in your phone who share my name and that’s why you’ve
given me a descriptor)
PS What time should I be there?
“He’s been in one of his moods.” My mom’s lowering her voice even though I’m sure she’s said these exact words to my dad at
least three times today. “He isn’t sleeping at night because of his back, and instead of doing something about it, he bites
everyone’s head off who tries to help. I just offered to get him an ibuprofen and he—”
“Would you like to hear about my trip so far?” I ask, trying to keep my patience in check. I glance at the clock. It’s still
too early to leave for Inveresk.
“Of course!” Mom says. “I’m dying to know—”
“Is that Tinkerbell?” I hear Dad cut her off. “Hand me the phone.”
“Wait your turn,” Mom says.
“I have to head out in five, so it makes sense for me to talk first.”
“We’ve talked about this,” Mom snaps, then turns her attention back to me. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
I suppress a sigh. There’s no way I can recount all my misadventures like this. I learned long ago that there’s no use in trying to have a real conversation when my parents are in the same room. “Nothing to report.”
“Really? Tell me about the—hold on, your father is insisting he go first.” Before I can object, I hear rustling and then my
dad’s voice. “Hey, kid,” he says.
“Hi, Dad,” I say, forcing cheerfulness.
“Gigi stopped by. She says she hasn’t heard from you and—”
“Okay, I’ll reach out,” I lie. “I gotta go, Dad. I’ve got to get to work.”
“Good luck with that Maggie MacWhatever Her Name Is,” he says jovially.
My mom tries to take the phone back. I know she’ll want to complain about my dad some more, so I swiftly say my goodbyes and
hang up. Before I put my phone away, I read the final texts of the exchange I had with Finn last night one more time:
You can report to Inveresk at noon. I’ll meet you there and help get you sorted.
Please don’t embarrass my country or yours.
I’d responded:
I’m guessing the only embarrassing thing I could do in either country is admitting to knowing you.
When he didn’t reply after that, I became nervous that I took the teasing too far and offended him, so I followed it up with a more sincere message.
Hey, British Finn: Thanks again for helping me. I don’t know how or why you did it, but I do appreciate it. We have a beautiful
expression back in the good ol’ USA. I’d like to quote it for you now: “You really saved my bacon.”
He replied immediately with:
American poetry brings a tear to my eye. I hope you’ll come prepared with more moving prose to share with me. Perhaps something
along the lines of “Don’t mess with Texas.” Milwaukee is in Texas, isn’t it?
I haul my stuff out of the pub, give the keys back to Eileen and Bill, and thank them profusely for allowing me to stay one
more night. Eileen hugs me and says they might just pop up to the castle for a visit.
This time when I board the bus, I’m prepared with payment. I find a seat at the back where no one will trip over my luggage
during the hour-long ride and look out the window.
The fact that this is my life is unbelievable. As devastated as I am that things didn’t work out with Margaret, I was able
to pivot. That’s growth, I tell myself.
My nerves double with each passing minute. My thoughts bounce between This is so exciting! and What the hell am I doing? Is this dangerous? Is Finn conning me and I’ll get out there, discover there is no castle, no job, and I’ll be stuck in the
middle of Nowhere, East Lothian, Scotland?
The more miles we pass, the more my thoughts shift into panic mode. Before I can totally spiral, I remind myself of the following:
If this is some cruel prank, I can just take the bus back.
Margaret did offer to pay for my flight home. Going home may not be ideal, but it won’t kill me.
I change my focus to soaking up my surroundings. The sun is out today, showcasing the vibrant greens of fields and trees outside
the city. We’re in the countryside for miles. Out of habit, I reach for my phone and start taking photographs, intending to
post them. I swipe, looking for all my regular apps before remembering that I deleted them all for a reason. I promised myself
I wouldn’t even look the entire summer. I don’t want to torture myself. I have to be stronger than that.
We reach the town of Inveresk, where every building we pass looks as though it could be the great-great-grandfather of the oldest building in Wisconsin.
The bus pulls over on what I’m guessing is a main street in this quaint little town.
I clamber off with my belongings in tow, get in a taxi, and ask the driver to take me to the castle.
“Sorry, love. They’re closed today for the bank holiday.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him, while trying to reassure myself. “They’re expecting me.”
He pulls off the main road onto a highway that traverses more countryside. I’m waiting to see the castle, but all I have a
view of is lush trees. He turns, taking us to a black double gate with a gold coat of arms emblazoned on each one. The gate
automatically opens. As he drives over a perilously narrow bridge, I take in the small cottage ahead that looks like a visitor’s
center. All around me are endless deciduous and coniferous trees, making the air smell sharp and fresh.
He parks in a lot and points to a path. “Follow that lane. Whoever’s waiting for you will likely be up there.”
The driver helps me with my luggage, I pay him and thank him profusely, silently praying that there really is someone up there
who knows I’m coming. Otherwise, I’m stranded on private property. I imagine calling my parents from a Scottish prison, telling
them I’m in for royal trespassing.
My suitcase bounces on the cobblestone. I have to keep readjusting my backpack straps to stop the pinching in my muscles. When I reach the top, I begin to feel as though this will all be worth it. And I’m not even at the castle yet.
Ahead is a structure made of light gray stone; there are arches, a clock tower, and two spires on either side. Underneath
the clock leans a familiar lanky form.
“There you are,” Finn says, pushing off from the wall.
I’m too relieved to see a familiar face to give him any sass. I drop my bag and nearly hug him. He moves as if ready for it,
but I duck away and make an awkward show of looking around. “Is this the castle?”
He snickers. “Hardly. Come on.” He takes my suitcase from me and rolls it under one of the arches.
The grounds and the castle come into view. I don’t know how to feel looking at it all because right now I feel everything. From what I can see, there are two large buildings with spires and turrets connected by a longer section. In front of the
building, where we’re now standing, is a parterre. I’ve never seen so many flower beds, and I definitely haven’t seen them
laid out in such ornate designs. The castle, the gardens, it’s all more expansive than I imagined. I stop in my tracks to
take it all in. I’d done some research last night when I couldn’t sleep from nerves and excitement, but seeing an image that
fits onto the screen of my phone versus seeing it in real life are two wildly different experiences.
“Do you like it?” he asks. To my surprise, he sounds like he sincerely wants to hear my opinion.
“Oh, I’m not that easily impressed. I have been to the stadium where the Green Bay Packers play, after all.”
“I don’t know what half of the things you’ve just said meant.” He shakes his head. “Silly American. Shall we have a tour?”
“Please,” I say, unable to stop myself from grinning.
He drops my bags off with a porter who appears out of nowhere and treats Finn with such deference, I almost laugh. I’m about
to tease Finn about it, but he’s just done me an enormous favor and my giddiness at living here for the summer is overpowering
my desire to needle him. Instead, I say, “Okay, tour guide, tell me everything you know about this place, including how you
had the pull to get me a job here so quickly.”
“Old family friend,” he says, sitting atop a short stone wall. Behind him are delicate purple flowers and shrubs shaped into
perfect spheres. “As for everything I know about this place, you don’t have that kind of time.”
“I thought you said only tourists come here?”
He scratches his head and looks sheepish. “I’m a bit of a history nut, so I’ve read quite a bit.”
“Give me the abbreviated version,” I say as we begin walking. “I’m guessing I should know as much as possible if I’m going
to be working here. Should I fake a Scottish accent?”
“Let’s hear it.” We stop and he crosses his arms, appraising me.
I pause, thinking back to an expression Bill said. I clear my throat. “Whit’s fur ye’ll no go by y—”
“Stop,” Finn says, laughing so hard he doubles over.
“Was that convincing?” I ask, unable to stop myself from laughing with him.
He takes me by the shoulders and looks me deep in the eyes. “American Hannah, I need you to promise me that you’ll never,
and I mean never, do that again. It was an assault on my ears and my patriotism.”
“Ah dinnae ken,” I say. “Now that I’ve started, I kind of—”