Chapter 20 #2
Beatrice moves through the introduction of several more boys, all wonderfully kind and welcoming. Finn’s in the mix of this
group, but he keeps stealing glances at me and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Is he happy I’m here or am I getting in the
way?
We’re directed by security to a VIP area where we watch the strongest locals do the caber toss. I assumed the winner is whoever
throws it the farthest, but Albie explains to me that they’re trying to do something much more specific.
“There’s a clock on the field and the point is for the log to land in the twelve o’clock position.”
“When I think logs, I think firewood,” I tell him. “That thing he’s throwing is a full-blown tree.”
“You’re both wrong, it’s a caber,” Hugo says.
Finn approaches and claps Hugo on the back. “This lad is one-quarter Scottish and thinks that makes him an expert, but he’s
never even had the guts to try haggis.”
“Please don’t use the word ‘guts,’ ” Hugo replies.
“I’ll try it,” I say. I draw the line at blood sausage, but I should try at least one local delicacy. “It’s got to be good
if it’s still this popular.”
“Really? You’ll give it a go?” Finn ensures I’m serious. When I shrug my shoulders like eating it would be no big deal, he
declares, “Haggis for everyone.”
While they’re setting up for the hammer throw, we each get a plate of haggis and gravy from the booth we saw when we arrived.
Before we try it, Finn leans in and whispers, “I’ll remind you that if a single one of you makes a face or spits this out,
the paps will catch it on film, and you’ll essentially have started a war between Scotland and England.”
“He’s joking, of course,” Penelope says. “He’s also very much not joking.”
“All smiles, everyone,” Beatrice says, lifting a fork.
I take a bite along with everyone else. As far as I’m concerned, the warning wasn’t necessary. I’ll eat pretty much anything
if it comes with gravy. If any of the other haggis-eaters aren’t impressed, they don’t let on.
“You’re all officially Scottish now,” Hugo says, in his best brogue.
“The quarter Scot declares it, so it must be so,” I say, earning a laugh from the group.
We watch the hammer throw, something called weight for height (a bunch of beefy people chuck a fifty-six-pound weight over
what looks like a high jump bar), and the stone put. In between, we try every food the vendors offer: steak-and-cheese handheld
pies, warm pretzels, ice cream. Before the crowds disperse, we’re ushered to the cars by security. I somehow end up in Hugo’s
car with Penelope and Albie. I don’t know who’s riding with Finn, but I’m sure Beatrice must be in there.
While Hugo’s driving to the beach, Albie turns around to address Penelope and me.
“So give us the tea, then,” he says. “Is our man Finneas back with Bea?”
I will myself not to react by looking out the window at the sea.
“Come on, Pops,” Hugo chimes in. “Tell us about your brother. He was so gutted when she dumped him the first time, has he
really gone back for seconds?”
“Why is it,” Penelope says, “that every time I get stuck with you lot, you try to gossip with me like old hens? Haven’t you
got your own lives?”
Hugo and Albie exchange a look. Then Albie turns directly to me.
“American Hannah,” he coos. “You’ve wormed your way into Finn’s cold heart and befriended him during his time of need. What can you tell us about Bea showing up even though they’ve broken up?”
I give him a beatific smile despite the way my stomach is twisting—and it isn’t from the haggis. “You know as much as I do,
Albie.”
We get to the beach and it’s completely empty, even though it’s a beautiful night that promises unobstructed views of the
northern lights. This is how he moves through life, I think. Security clears the way so he can pretend he’s just like everyone else. We get out of the cars, and I see what look like three-wheeled makeshift go-carts with bright sails attached.
“We have one more game to enjoy while we have the remnants of daylight,” Finn shouts, and the group whoops. “It’s time for
our annual land-yachting regatta. Pick your partner, everyone. Remember to choose wisely.”
Albie snags Penelope as a partner, and she seems too pleased by the partnership, I wonder if when she gets older something
could develop there. I’ve seen her watching him throughout the day. I assume Beatrice and Finn will partner up, so I scan
the crowd for Hugo, the only other person I’ve really gotten to know so far. But Finn catches my arm.
“I think it’s only fair,” he says, loudly enough for everyone else to hear, “that the winner of last year’s regatta gets stuck
with the newbie.”
“Oh, thanks so much,” I say sarcastically. He gives me a secret wink. I wish I could read his mind. Albie’s questions about Beatrice are prodding me. I wish I could know whether spending this time with her is reigniting old feelings and I’m nothing more than a rebound for him.
Or maybe I don’t wish I could read his mind at all. I’m not sure I want to know the answers to these questions.
“Do you want to drive or push?” he asks me.
“Drive,” I say, having no idea what we’re about to do.
Each team gathers at the starting line. The finish line is down the beach, indicated by a Scottish flag.
“That’s good luck for me,” Hugo declares. Everyone boos him.
Finn leans down to give me pointers about steering. I’m barely listening. This is the closest his face has been to mine all
day, and I want to kiss him, to feel his cheek against mine. I want the low voice he uses when he’s turned on. I want to know
that I’m the one he wants, not Beatrice. He finishes his speech. I haven’t heard a word.
“Ready?” he asks.
“So ready,” I fib. I grab his kilt to bring him back to me. “Wait. Has anyone ever died in a land-yachting accident?”
He laughs and puts a helmet on me. When it’s buckled, he gently chucks me under my chin with his knuckle.
Rather than participate, Beatrice is at the finish line to judge the winner.
The wind kicks up and the participants cheer.
Apparently, the wind is a good thing even though I’m envisioning my land yacht being swept up by it and carried into the ocean.
I look at my sail, noting all the extra lines and ropes, and realize this contraption is way more complicated than I thought.
Getting distracted while Finn was telling me what to do was a mistake.
A whistle blows and chaos ensues. Partners shove land yachts while drivers steer into (or out of, I have no idea what I’m
doing) the wind. Finn is shouting directions at me as he pushes me. Everyone else is so far ahead, their partners running
after them, while I . . . tip over into the sand. Finn is laughing so hard he falls over too. He unbuckles my helmet, and
I climb out of the yacht just as the sail falls on top of us. We laugh harder.
“Well, at least we’re alone,” Finn says, making no move to take the sail off us since it’s blocking us from everyone else
down the beach.
It’s our first moment of real privacy all day and I simply can’t help myself.
“Your friends were asking Penelope about you and Beatrice, since she’s back in your life, and I know we talked about this
last night and I’m sorry I’m asking again, but I have to know: Is being around her this much going to make you fall for her
again?” I blurt out. “It’s okay if the answer’s yes—I mean, it’s not okay, but I’d rather know now.”
We’re lying on the sand, our faces so close I can feel his breath on me. I can’t see anything except the yellows and whites
of the sail, like a stained glass window.
“No, of course not,” he says. He tilts my chin so I can look at him. “I thought I’ve made it clear that I only want you.”
“But doesn’t she make more sense for you?” I protest, not because I want it to be true, but because I’m scared it is. And
as much as I don’t want to think about Tina’s warning to me, it’s been creeping into my thoughts all day. “Am I just getting
in the way of what’s best for you?”
“Hannah, listen to me,” he says softly. “Yes, Beatrice and I make sense on paper. But she only sees the person I have to be
for the public, for my parents. I appreciate her for that, of course there’s value in the way she understands my day-to-day
life. But she doesn’t understand the day-to-day me the way you do. You see me for who I am. Always.”
“But—”
“My god, you’re a pain in my royal arse,” he continues, throwing his head back as much as this position we’re in will allow.
“But you also make me laugh and turn me on, so please stop trying to set me up with my ex-girlfriend just so you never have
to land-sail again.”
This gets a laugh out of me. In addition to feeling better about Beatrice because I believe every word he says, I feel myself
falling for him faster. Deeper.
In the distance, we hear the cheers of a winner and the heckles of several losers.
But all that disappears when Finn leans in to kiss me.
It’s tender, the way his lips brush against mine as he cups my jaw with his hand.
I open my mouth and move as closely to him as I can get underneath this land yacht.
We’re going to have sand all through our clothes and hair, but I don’t care.
Nor do I care that through the white of the sail, I catch hints of the greens of the aurora borealis. I’m missing it. But
nothing, not even the northern lights, can compare to what I feel with Finn.