4. Malcolm
Malcolm
Every once in a while, my sister Fiona and I have what we call “secret fun visits” (she named them).
Either I go down to Edinburgh, or she drives up to Inverness, and we hang out for a couple of days.
We don’t invite our older sisters, Isla and Ailsa.
They’d be fair scunnered with us if they found out.
But Fiona and I are twins, so we figure they can get over it. Not that they’ll ever find out.
The rest of my family is in, or near, Inverness, but Fiona left for school and never came back. We’ve always been close, and she says we need our twin times, so this is our solution.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Fiona says after the server brings us our food.
I scratch my beard. Fiona is not one to want to talk.
It’s another reason we have secret fun visits.
Ailsa is the sister most likely to try to get into your business.
Fiona’s always had a live-and-let-live kind of attitude.
I’ve been here a day and a half, and she’s been sitting on whatever this is. It can’t be good.
“About what?”
“I know Cait broke your heart, but you can’t go on like this forever. You're too good to stay single.”
Hearing my former fiancé’s name doesn’t hurt like it did a year ago, but I still don’t love it.
Cait and I were a month from our wedding when she called it off.
She said she didny want to live in Scotland anymore, and she knew I’d never leave.
Instead of asking me if I’d consider moving, she assumed I wouldn’t and called it off.
“You’re single,” I point out.
“I only broke up with Andrew a couple of months ago. And I’m not actively avoiding dating.”
“I’m not staying single on purpose.” I’m also not trying to date. Cait left a mark, and I don’t want to fall for another woman who’ll decide the Highlands aren’t for her.
“Uh, huh. Tell me then … when did you last speak to a woman, hoping to take her out?” Fiona pops a chip into her mouth.
“Oh look. She didny bring you a fork for your fish. I’ll be back.” I give my sister a wicked grin and take off from the table. I’m studying the tiles under my feet when I literally run into a small woman. The woman begins to bounce backwards, so I reach out for her. Fiona will be thrilled.
“I’m sorry about that. I need to pay better attention,” said a beautiful, green-eyed woman with wild curls. Did Fiona somehow have a hand in this?
I take my hand from her elbow, waving off her apology. “Ah. An American. You’ve got a braw accent. From the Southern part, I guess?”
“You are correct. I’m from North Carolina,” she says. She’s friendly, but there’s definitely something off about her.
“North Carolina,” I say. “I’m Malcolm, by the way.”
“Ivy.”
“Ivy. A bonnie name for a bonnie woman.” What am I doing? I know Fiona didny get to me this fast.
She smiles and shakes her head at me. “I could be married, you know.”
“You’re not wearing a ring. I checked.” Again … what am I doing? She’s obviously here on vacation. She’ll go home, and that will be that.
“I could be seriously dating someone.” She looks a bit like she could be sick. Though, her coloring is okay, and I don’t see any sweat.
“Are ye?” Not that I’m interested. I need to get back to my sister before this goes any further.
“No. But I’m also not in the place to. I need to go. It was a pleasure meeting you, Malcolm.”
“The pleasure was mine, darlin’.”
Then she bursts into tears.
I watch as she runs out of the restaurant and consider going after her, until I see a woman at a table near the door jump up to follow her.
Some rather harsh and judgmental looks follow me as I make my way back to Fiona. The groan of my chair reverberates around the space as everyone silently stares.
“So maybe that wasn’t the place to start.” She takes a sip of her water.
“I wasn’t trying to start anything. I’m just friendly.”
“That’s true. Is that why you checked for a wedding ring?”
“Maybe because I had your voice in my head and look where it left me. Look where it left her!” I gesture out the window where the woman sits with her friend’s arm around her.
“She clearly has something going on; you can’t count that as trying and failing. Try again soon. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Alright, maybe I will.”
“Good. Also, you forgot my fork.”
I sigh.
“I’ll get it,” she says.
She leaves and makes it back without having crashed into anyone along the way.
“How’s Da doing?” she asks, flaking off a bite of fish.
Our father broke his finger a month ago helping one of Ailsa’s heifers deliver a calf.
Her husband is usually the one that sees to the birthing, if necessary, but he was out of town, and Ailsa called Da in a panic.
Honestly, I’m surprised he even let me look at his finger.
He’s not one for medical care. Thankfully, I’d been off work, so I took supplies and buddy-taped it, and he went back to work.
“Ach. You know Da. He didny slow down, but I think he’s fine now. I’m sure he’s not up to full strength, but he’d never let anyone know that.”
“True.” Fiona sips her drink. “You got anything excitin’ coming up?”
“I’ve got a gig tonight.”
“I can’t believe you’re still doing that.
” My sisters all teased me mercilessly when I started playing in pubs.
They said I was just doing it to get the lassies.
While I denied it, they were a wee bit right at the time.
Now, though, it’s turned into something I love, and often it’s the escape I need after rough times at the hospital.
“Everyone needs hobbies.”
She smiles, shaking her head. “It’s not fair you’re the only musically talented one in the family. What I wouldn’t give to just be able to sing.”
“Ya can sing. Just do it when you’re around your enemies.”