Chapter 11
The car’s in park, fully turned off, and we’ve all taken turns getting out and walking around.
I’m enjoying the fresh air and filming a video of the sheep with my phone.
There are fewer of them than before, but it’s still quite a sight.
I send it to my boss, Natalie, thinking she’ll get a kick out of this.
Note to self: Never film a season in Scotland.
She responds quickly, even with the time difference.
As if they’d let us. We’re a “beach” show remember.
I snort. Glad I’m not the only one still bitter about that note from the network.
Isn’t it late over there? Why are you up?
Reviewing travel packages. Was considering New Zealand, but I have a feeling they have a sheep problem too.
Probably.
I put my phone in my back pocket and lift my head to the gray sky. The rain’s cleared up a little, but there’s still a fine mist in the air, clinging to my skin.
I never thought this kind of weather could be beautiful.
I spend most of my days in the sun, in L.A.
and whatever beachy destinations we’re at for work, but something about the overcast sky and misty air is magical.
Or maybe that’s just the effect of the Highlands.
The way the green hills seem to go on forever, taking up all the space, filling your entire field of vision.
It would be nice to film something here, actually. Though Natalie’s right. The network would never let us.
I make my way back to the car, sitting in the driver’s seat, since my father asked to switch.
Beside me, Jacob’s reclined his chair, and his eyes are closed. His full lips are parted in sleep, his face unguarded. He’s softer like this, but not relaxed. I’m not sure if he’s dreaming, but there’s tension between his brows, something bothering him even when he’s not conscious.
A loud buzzing noise fills the car, and my dad, who was closing his eyes in the back, jumps, fumbling for his phone on the seat next to him, but it’s not his phone that’s vibrating. It’s the one sitting on Jacob’s lap.
I put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.
He blinks a few times, confused, his lashes fluttering, but his eyes grow soft when he sees me.
“Hi,” he says, and his voice is so tender, the quietest exhale, that it shocks me into silence for a moment.
“Your phone,” I say, flustered. I reach toward it, but stop when I realize it’s in a precarious position, nestled between his thighs.
He sits up straight, his sleepy expression turning sharp. “Oh.” He checks the screen, then answers the phone quickly.
“Maggie?”
My dad leans forward, his head peeking between the two front seats.
“Are you okay?” Jacob asks.
She replies, but her voice is muffled. I can’t make out what she’s saying. Jacob’s silent as he listens, but at some point, he lets out a loud exhale. He looks at my father and mouths, She’s fine, and my dad’s face goes slack with relief.
“Where are you?” Jacob asks, and a few seconds later he says, “Really? Okay, we’re only an hour away—”
He goes quiet again. “Yes. We’ll see you soon then.” He listens for a little longer, then hangs up, dropping the phone into the cupholder.
“She’s okay,” Jacob says, before my father can ask.
“She said she needed some time to clear her head. She stopped somewhere last night, but she just made it to Skye. She said she was thinking about coming back to Aberdeen to talk to you, but since we’re almost there, I think it makes sense to just go and meet her.
” He pauses. “Does that sound all right, or…”
“Yes,” my dad says. “But she’s—she really sounded okay?”
“Yes,” Jacob says slowly. “She did. She just…she said she wants to wait to talk to you in person. But I’m sure it’ll all make sense when we see her.”
“Right,” my dad says, but the worry in his voice and on his face is clear.
A heavy sensation settles in my chest.
“It’ll only take an hour,” I say. “And look, the road’s cleared up so much.” There are a couple straggler sheep left, but the car in front of us is moving, able to navigate around them.
I pick up the key and put it in the ignition. “We’ll be there in no time,” I tell him.
My dad lets out a breath, and nods. He settles back in his seat and fastens the seat belt across his chest.
I do the same and turn to check on Jacob, but he hasn’t moved. He’s just looking at me, his brows furrowed. I’ve seen the way he looks when he wants me, when he hates me, when he’s fed up with me. But I’m not really sure what this look is.
“Seat belt,” I tell him, and he snaps out of it.
He reaches for the belt behind him, clicks it into place, and turns away, glancing out the window.
I check the GPS, and it confirms what Jacob said.
“Just one more hour,” I say, and some of the worry on my dad’s face subsides.
But when I turn the key, expecting the hum and rumble of the engine coming to life, there’s nothing but silence.
No.
I turn it again, and again, but nothing changes.
The car won’t start.