Maisie
Birdie and Graham are picking me up. While I wait, I scroll through Effie and Lain’s profiles. As I suspected, Lain’s kilt was enough to gain him some traction.
Part of me wants to comment back on some of the thirsty comments, but engagement is engagement, even if it pisses me off.
Callum doesn’t leave any more comments on the Heather Beag page, and we’ve actually gotten some followers, most of whom are travel agents, which is great.
There’s a honk outside, and I grab my roller bag and head down the drive. When I get there, however, someone else is loading a bag into the trunk.
My gaze quickly moves from Callum to Birdie in the front seat, who’s grimacing.
What the fuck? I mouth to her, and she smiles, getting out of the car.
“So it appears that we’re being extremely environmentally conscious by all carpooling together. The guys also had a siblings’ trip planned. Graham has gotta see about a cow. It’s just riding together,” Birdie says, and I put on the best fake smile I can as I head to the back of the car.
“I’ll take your bag,” Callum says, and I hand it to him.
Birdie gets back in the front seat and I take a deep breath. Callum also seems to glare at his brother as we both slide into the back. The large Alpha has to shove himself in, nearly hunching in the back, and I have to cover a laugh with my hand.
He grunts as Graham cheerfully puts music on, all the while not seeming to mind the tension in the back seat.
Even in doing my best to give him space, he’s still smooshed.
Usually I would be surmising about the manspreading epidemic and how it’s further perpetrating the patriarchy.
However, in this case, Callum seriously has nowhere to put his legs.
That’s how his knee is touching my knee, and I guess neither of us is going to bring up the fact that we’re touching. We’re just ignoring it. Cool, cool, cool.
“Maybe I should pass. There’s no way I can sit back here for over two fucking hours,” Callum finally says, doing his absolute damnest to move his knee so he isn’t touching me.
“It’s not that long of a drive. Seriously, you can still be in Chicago basically in a two-hour drive. But we can switch,” Birdie says, not giving him any time to argue as she unbuckles and opens her door.
Callum looks at me, but he isn’t given an opportunity to say anything as Birdie opens his door and motions for him to get out.
When my sister takes his place and I’m blessedly not touching the Alphas knee I glare at my sister.
What the fuck, Birdie? I mouth it to her and she gives me a grimacing smile.
“He hates me,” I whisper as Callum gets into the front seat.
“Oh, he doesn’t hate you,” Graham says as Callum is getting in, no doubt hearing his brother, though he doesn’t contradict his statement.
I motion to the front seat with my eyes wide at my sister. So, as any normal person would do in this situation, I take out my phone and start texting the person sitting beside me.
Seriously, Bird?
Birdie
They’re just our ride, it’s no big deal.
I’m a grownup. I can handle two plus hours, right? It better just be us sharing a ride and nothing else.
Birdie and Graham are both singing to the music, and Callum and I are unnaturally quiet.
My body feels rigid and deep down I wish I could burrow away into some soft blankets where I wasn’t dealing with tension.
In fact, add Greer and Lain into those soft blankets and that would be a dream come true.
Speaking of Greer and Lain, did they know about this?
Did you know Callum was coming to Oban?
Greer
What do you mean? We knew he was going away with his brother this weekend.
I groan, and the Alpha in the passenger’s seat gives me a squinted look over his shoulder.
His brother was supposed to be driving me and my sister, but Callum is here too.
Greer
Do you want me to drive out?
How is this man so ready to just drop everything for me?
I don’t feel worthy of it. There’s no way I could inconvenience him like that.
I’ll just have to grin and bear it. It’s not like I’m un-used to being disliked.
Besides Birdie and my mom, I’m not a people pleaser.
But there’s something about Callum disliking me that’s upsetting.
It must be because it causes a strife between him and the other Alphas, that has to be it.
No. I’ll survive. Birdie promised me they’re just our ride.
Greer
Let us know when you get in.
Lain
Miss you already *image attached*
The photo is of Lain and Fergus smiling at the camera. Well, as much as a dog can smile. I save the photo and realize my sister is looking over my shoulder; I tug my phone to my chest and she acts like she wasn’t snooping.
It’s just a drive, then we won’t see them for two days. What could go wrong?
Birdie is rushing to get ready for breakfast and I sigh as she tosses a shoe in the corner.
“I’ll meet you outside. I need some fresh air,” I tell her and she nods.
Today is the day.
We’ve said our goodbyes to Mom, but something about spreading her ashes makes it feel final. I’m not really sure how to process the emotions of it all. This is what Mom wanted and we’re finally here.
Mom talked about Oban a lot, how she would spend summers here with her grandparents, and I can see the appeal.
As I exit the hotel, I’m greeted with a briny breeze that seems to clear my mind a bit, the scent is comforting.
With a slight wind chill, I wrap my jacket tighter around myself and lean against the wall.
The water is calm, and there isn’t a ton of commotion happening on the street. It makes it easier to spot the man stepping out of the hotel behind me, cursing under his breath.
When he sees me, his dark brows furrow.
“Why are you out here alone?” he asks.
Instead of snapping at him that I’m an adult grown woman in broad daylight in a safe town, I rise above as I respond, “Waiting for Birdie.”
“Same. Well, waiting for Graham,” he says, surprisingly leaning against the wall next to me. “So, you’re spreading your ma’s ashes today?”
Ah. Sympathy, not genuine kindness.
“Yeah,” I reply as I stare down at my shoes, rubbing the tip of the boot against the cobblestone.
“It isn’t easy, no matter how old you are.”
I glance over at the Alpha under my lashes. “Your parents?”
“Aye. Graham was nine and I was eleven.”
“Fuck. I can’t even imagine.”
“My Nan and Grandda took us in, did a hell of a job too, considering.”
I lick my lips and my stomach tingles as I get up the courage to ask the next question. “Does it get any easier?”
“It gets less painful,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, glancing out at the water, not at me.
“I still find myself wondering what my parents would think of me, what they would tell me in certain situations. There are still days when I’m pissed off at how unfair the whole fucking world is. ”
“The world really is unfair. So wait, you grew up at the Heather Beag and you want them to sell it?” I ask, turning my body to face him.
How is it possible he could give up a place with so many memories?
Maybe I’ve romanticized the place a little, or maybe it’s because Effie reminds me of my mother, but that B she wanted her final resting place to be Scotland.
I wrap my arm around my sister and squeeze. We’ve already said goodbye to Mom in so many ways, but somehow this feels final.
Not closure.
There’s never closure when someone you love dies, more like the end of a chapter. You still feel the lingering effects of everything you read before, but as you get further and further into the book, the pain isn’t as sharp.
“I’m glad she had us come here,” I say to Birdie, who’s still clutching the bag.
“Me too,” she sniffs. “Fuck, this is so much harder than I thought.”
Part of me wants to do this for both of us, and I realize that’s not what I need to do. “You’re strong, Birdie. Mom always knew that. We’ll do it together.”
We already poured our hearts out into our postcards and honestly I don’t think I’d get through the words out loud; I’d probably be an even bigger sobbing mess.
Instead, we flip the bag, watching as the wind catches on the ashes, blowing them into the calm, beautiful water of the Oban Bay.
Birdie and I stand there for a long time, holding each other, quietly crying, just staring out at the view. Knowing that my mom will rest here forever, in a place she loved, in the most beautiful place I’d ever been; it gives me a deep sense of acceptance.
I’m not religious. I don’t know if I believe in a God or Heaven and Hell, but I believe Mom is with me always.
Not in a spiritual way, but in a way that the most important people in your life always leave a mark and it trickles down from generation to generation.
She lives on because me and Birdie are still here and we’ll carry her with us always.
Birdie turns and we embrace each other in a hug that’s so tight, so full of our pain and grief, and yet so soothing.
When a mix of a laugh and a sniffle falls out of me, Birdie pulls back.
“What?” she questions, blinking at me.
“It’s just Mom would have loved to see us hug like that,” I say.
This has Birdie wiping under her eyes and laughing slightly too.
“Can we stay a little longer?” Birdie asks and I give her a quick nod as we sit on the bench, staring at the bay, both of us silently coming to terms with this new chapter of our lives.