CHAPTER NINE ~ GRAEME ~ FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
“I just overheard a tour guide say there are approximately fifteen-hundred castles and castle ruins in Scotland,” Abby says. “That’s absolutely mind-blowing to me. That means thousands of people live in places where seeing a castle every day is normal.”
She pauses, looking up from her camera to meet my eyes. “What am I saying? You live smack-dab between two castles.” She shakes her head and laughs, and I can’t help but join her.
We spent the day touring around Fife, with our final stop being St. Andrews. We saw the world-famous golf course, wandered around the university grounds and cathedral, and just finished a tour of the castle.
Having The Crew here in Scotland has reminded me of the early days of our friendship.
There was nothing wrong with my life in Kingston before Brodie, Abby, Drew, and Fern came along, but having them around made me realize I’d been going through life on autopilot: school, work, living in a rented house I liked but that didn’t feel like a home.
I was living in a little bubble, doing the same things and going to the same places.
Abby and the others made me notice the incredible architecture, the beautiful parks, the historical landmarks, and the variety of places to shop and eat.
It’s felt the same since we’ve been here.
While I’ve always been proud to be a Scot and don’t think I necessarily took this beautiful country for granted during my childhood, being back and seeing it all through Abby’s eyes has made me excited to live here again.
I want to explore more and not get so caught up in work and everyday life that I end up sticking to my little corner of Edinburgh.
“When you move to Toronto, you’ll be living in a city that has its own castle,” I say.
Abby looks perplexed for a moment and then nods.
“Ahh, right, Casa Loma. I missed a trip there in elementary school because I didn’t tell Grandma about it until it was too late.
My dad had shown up out of the blue for the first time since dumping me on his mom’s doorstep a few years earlier.
He only stuck around for a couple of days, but having him there upset Grandma and messed with my head for a few weeks afterward. ”
She says all of this casually, but there’s a tightness around her eyes that’s impossible to miss.
It’s rare that she talks about her parents, but whenever she does, her normally expressive face and voice go flat.
Despite knowing there’s nothing I can say or do to fix it, whenever she mentions them, I want to scoop her into my arms and ease the aches of her childhood wounds.
“When Grandma found out I missed the trip, she was so upset,” Abby says, her usual animation seeping back into her face and tone. “Not with me, but that I’d missed out on something fun. She took me on an overnight trip to Toronto, and we did a bunch of fun things, including Casa Loma.”
“And was it everything you hoped for?” I ask.
“It was better in a way, because I was with her. Class trips always seemed so chaotic and rushed. Grandma let me take my time and explore to my heart’s content.
She had given me my first camera not long before that, and she spent a lot of the trip giving me pointers and encouraging me to try new things and see things differently. ”
Her smile is wobbly, the way it often is when she talks about her grandmother. I was close to my own granny, so I understand that feeling of immersing yourself in memories, although for her, those are some of the only happy memories from her childhood.
“I’m just going to wander for a bit among the graves while we wait for the others,” she says.
We split off from Brodie, Drew, and Fern a while ago and agreed to meet at the cliffs beside the cathedral. I spot Fern there already, so I tell Abby I’m heading that way, and she can meet us whenever she’s ready.
I smile to myself as I slowly approach Fern.
Between her flowing blonde curls and bohemian style, there’s always been something otherworldly about her appearance.
Abby told me once that Fern reminded her of Phoebe Buffay from season one of Friends, and I’ve never been able to unsee it.
Now, as Fern looks out at the North Sea, despite standing perfectly still, everything about her seems to dance as the wind twists and tugs at her long skirt, and her hair flies around her head.
If Abby were with me, I’m certain she’d snap a picture.
Fern’s green eyes meet mine the moment I stop beside her.
“I really love it here, G,” she says, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“I always suspected I’d love this country when we finally made it here, but it’s even more magical than I anticipated.
I can practically feel the power of it buzzing under my skin. ”
That sense of patriotism I’ve experienced so often recently rushes through me again now. “Scotland was made for people like you, Ferny. You fit right in among the mythical creatures and legends.”
Her smile morphs into a full-blown grin as a visible shiver rolls through her.
“Ooh, you gave me goosebumps!” She turns her attention back to the sea, her gaze tracking the waves on the beach below.
“You know, it’s only now hitting me how much I’m going to miss you, and how strange it’s going to be not having you around.
I think I was in denial before we came here. ”
I loop my arm around her shoulders and give her a squeeze. “I’m going to miss you too. A lot.”
She leans her head on my shoulder. “I’ve never told any of you this, but when you and Brodie came into our lives, I was worried about how it might change the dynamics.
I’d only met Drew and Abby the year before, and being friends with them was the first time in my life I felt like I fit somewhere.
” Her voice dips, and she pauses. I wait, sensing there’s more.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty weird. ”
I laugh under my breath. “I know you well enough to know you’re not seeking a refusal or some kind of reassurance, so I’ll just say that you, Fern Anderson, are the best kind of weird. Being friends with you has opened my mind and my eyes.”
“And your third eye?” she says, straightening and waggling her eyebrows. I told her once that she reminded me of my beloved granny in some ways, and said granny was convinced I had a touch of The Sight. Fern said she agreed and was envious of my abilities, even if I refused to fully own them.
“Aye, maybe,” I concede with a laugh.
She faces me fully, the wind whipping her hair into a frenzy around her head.
“Drew and Abby were the first real friends I ever had. They never made me feel like a third wheel, even though they had years of history before we met. They accepted and loved me, and made me see it was safe to be the real me, the version I’d hidden for so long in an attempt to fit in.
Then you and Brodie came along, and I wondered, ‘okay, is this it? Is this when I start to feel like the odd one out?’ But it never happened.
You two slotted seamlessly into our lives and made them better. ”
“Ahh, would you look at that, the wind is making my eyes water,” I say, blinking rapidly.
During our time in Scotland so far, I’ve experienced a myriad of Big Feelings, as the girls would say.
It’s been wonderful having them here for this last hurrah of sorts before we all go our separate ways, but it’s the ‘separate ways’ bit that gets to me.
Fern smiles and pats my cheek. “We’ve all cried at some point during this trip, and there’ll be more tears before it’s over, I’m sure.”
Something colourful blows by, and we both watch as a posy of wildflowers lands at our feet. I pick it up and scan the area to see if anyone has lost it, but there’s nobody in sight. I hand the small bouquet to Fern, and she immediately plucks one of the flowers free and tucks it behind her ear.
“I could see myself living here, you know,” she says.
“In St. Andrews?”
“Mm, or any of the places we stopped today, really. I particularly liked Anstruther and Crail. There’s something magical about these quaint little seaside towns.
” She turns to face the water again, closing her eyes and tilting her head back so the weak sunlight hits her face.
“If any of us truly belong here, though, it’s Abby. ”
The wind has picked up, so it takes my brain a minute to decide if I heard her properly. I shift closer, blocking some of the wind with my body. “What makes you say that?”
“She’s clearly in love.” Fern looks at me with a hint of mischief in her eyes. She glances over her shoulder, and I do the same, spotting Abby making her way toward us, stopping occasionally to snap pictures of whatever catches her eye.
“She fits here,” Fern says. “She’s been glowing since the second we stepped off the plane. Goddess knows it’s not because of sun exposure.” She flicks a hand toward the low-hanging clouds with a cheeky smile. “I know you’ve seen it too. It’s impossible to miss.”
It is. Abby’s radiance could power all of Scotland for the next year.
She clearly adores Edinburgh, and she’s been equally thrilled with the other places we’ve visited, especially during our two days in the Highlands.
We were surrounded by some of the world’s most stunning scenery—the otherworldly beauty of ancient mountains, lochs, and castle ruins—and yet my eyes strayed continuously to her, soaking in the wonder and awe painted across her features and lighting her from within.
“I’ll be curious to see how long it takes her to figure it out,” Fern says, turning to face Abby as she gets closer.
“Figure what out?”
“That she belongs here with you.”
The words are like a punch to the gut. I don’t have time to respond because Abby is jogging toward us now.
Her smile is bright as she glances between us.
Her eyes settle on Fern a second before she throws herself into Fern’s outstretched arms. I watch them hug, giggling as they rock back and forth.
When they release each other, Fern frees a yellow flower from the posy we found, and tucks it behind Abby’s ear.
Abby turns to me, her smile faltering slightly when she sees my face. I have no idea what my expression is, but I smile quickly as I look back and forth between them. “Beautiful. Why don’t you let me take a picture of the two of you?”
Abby hands her camera to me without hesitation.
I back up a few paces, adjusting the settings the way she taught me when she first started letting me use her camera.
I take several photos from varying angles, then end with a close-up of the two of them embracing each other, their cheeks pressed together.
A mix of sadness and something akin to panic creeps up my throat as I glance at the screen to make sure the pictures are okay.
We only have a few days left together, but I refuse to think about saying goodbye.
I can’t. I’ll allow myself to live in denial until the moment I drop the four of them off at the airport.
And, as what Fern said spins through my mind—“She belongs here with you”—I think maybe I’ll allow myself a little delusion too.
For now, I’ll hold on to the vision in front of me: two of the people I love most, on a cliffside in St. Andrews, mouths open in laughter, and flowers in their hair.