Chapter 25
We only had a week until the wedding.
Caitlin and Angus were busy with wedding guests arriving—and as her sister and wedding planner, that made me busy as well.
Aunts and uncles, cousins, college friends…
It was impressive how many people chose to make the trip across the pond for her special day, especially when they both lived in Boston now.
I had made plans for guests to take a Loch Ness cruise captained, of course, by Drew.
That was an easy call—the boat launch was right across from the hotel where most of them were staying.
I could’ve planned more activities, but ultimately decided to let people pick and choose according to their interests.
So in each of their hotel rooms, I left brochures and flyers for the Highland Coo Experience; a whisky distillery on the Isle of Skye; fun pubs to visit both in Drumnadrochit, Portree, and Inverness; the best places to shop in the area; and lots of hikes.
But with all the guests in town, it was difficult for me to find time to talk with Max. Part of me was relieved—I could pretend everything was normal while he worked behind the scenes on the film deal.
Between Caitlin’s wedding chaos and whatever life-altering opportunity Max was orchestrating, I found myself longing for the kind of vacation where silence and stillness were the only items on the itinerary.
Over lunch in a pub in Drumnadrochit, Mom finally addressed the elephant in the room. “I saw in People magazine that you’ve been seeing Max again,” she said, stirring her tea.
I shook malt vinegar over my fish and chips. “People magazine, eh? First you tracked me with my cell phone, now all you have to do is open a magazine.”
“Well? How are things going?” asked Mom, between bites of salad.
“Any wedding bells for you?” said Dad, biting into his cheese toastie.
Mom and I both glared at Dad, who couldn’t help but blurt out whatever thought came into his head.
“We just ran into each other and there was nowhere to stay, so he let me stay in his rental. He’s gone a lot because he’s so busy with the film, and I’ve been busy with the wedding prep…”
Dad didn’t respond right away. “It says you were working on the film.”
“Don’t you need a visa for that?” asked Mom.
“Yes, which is why I just did it for a short time, and for no pay—just helping out a friend.” I sipped my tea and hoped she’d drop it.
“Is that all Max is now? You have quite a history,” Mom said gently.
I patted a napkin to my mouth. “What kind of dress are you wearing? Have you talked to Angus’s mom? Do you want to match?”
Mom’s eyes narrowed for a split second before her expression smoothed. She straightened the napkin in her lap. “We’ve got that sorted. No worries.”
“Good.” I gave a tight smile.
We took the family on a tour of Culloden, the battlefield near Inverness where the Jacobites met their brutal end in 1746.
Dad moved from marker to marker with reverent steps, his voice dropping to a whisper as he explained how we couldn’t possibly leave Scotland without walking where history had turned.
As our tour began, I watched dark clouds gathering and felt the wind cut through my sweater.
There was nowhere to hide here. Imagine being without food or sleep for days on end, then standing in this field hoping to defend a dying cause.
Watching your friends collapse beside you, knowing you had to continue on.
Around me, visitors dabbed at their eyes with tissues and sleeve cuffs.
The gift shop bothered me a little. It felt strange, standing on ground where so many had died, then browsing souvenirs. But it was full of history books, and Dad carried a stack of them to the register like he wasn’t ready to leave the past behind.
As we stepped outside, the wind moved low across the field. Dad cleared his throat and looked back at it. “And to think that was the end—the clans, the kilts, bagpipes… the language. A whole way of life.”
I’d never heard his voice sound like that before.
Caitlin slipped her arm around him. “I didn’t realize this would have such an impact on you, Dad.”
“Well, just because my last name’s Montgomery, and that side of the family wasn’t involved, doesn’t mean your grandmother’s MacGregor side didn’t have a whole chunk of the family die on this land.”
Oh. I’d seen the stone but hadn’t made the connection.
“But it doesn’t matter if we had family involved or not,” he went on. “It’s a sad, sad place to visit. So much was lost…”
For a moment, none of us said anything.
But if Dad was feeling like this just walking through as a tourist with ancestry affected, how did Max feel about it—after months of researching and writing the screenplay, pitching it all over town, being told no time after time, and now, when his dream was finally being realized, it was falling apart?
It wasn’t the same scale as what had happened here, not even close—but a dream falling apart was still a dream falling apart.
If he could get his story out there, it would mean everything to him.
I took out my phone to text Max, stared at the blank screen for a moment, then slipped it back into my pocket.
Angus cleared his throat. “Well, we’ve got it back now. They’re learning Scottish Gaelic in the schools. You can take lessons. You can even learn to say ‘Look, Granddad, Irn Bru’ in Gaelic on Duolingo.”
Caitlin huffed a quiet laugh. “And as my friend Melissa and I can assure you, there are loads of kilts and tartans available to buy in every shop within…”
“Probably every town in Scotland!” I said.
“They can try to keep us down, but they cannae succeed!” Angus said with a wide grin.
Dad didn’t smile, but he nodded once. “Caitlin, do you think there may be a shop in Inverness where I could get a kilt to wear to the wedding? I think it would be more appropriate than a suit.”
I didn’t know much, but I definitely understood that kilts had been outlawed after the 1746 Dress Act—wearing one meant something about who you were and what you stood for. I was proud of him.
Angus gave Dad a nod. “Aye. I’ll take ye tae the place where my family has shopped for years. They have rentals if that’s what you’re after…”
“No, I want to buy one,” Dad said, shaking his head.
Angus raised an eyebrow, clapped Dad on the shoulder, and said, “Then as your future son-in-law, I’d be honored to help outfit you in your first kilt.”
“Will they be able to make it by the wedding? I thought they were all bespoke?” asked Caitlin, worry furrowing her brow.
“We’ll make it happen,” Angus said firmly, and Dad grinned. “Meanwhile, Caitlin has a special trip planned for the women tomorrow.”
Caitlin looked up at him, confused. “I do?”
“Aye,” he whispered.