Chapter 34 Deli
Deli
By the first week of March, Aunt Mo’s garden was growing so wild Deli could almost get lost in it.
Every day she took the antique book and a gifted sketchbook from Hannah to document the latest arrivals in a sort of dictionary of her own.
She’d even come to love donning her wellies and Aunt Mo’s umbrella hat so she could draw under a clear poncho as big as a tent when it rained.
Deli hadn’t expected it, but she was having fun pretending she belonged in the sleepy Scottish village.
She noticed how less frequently her teeth ground as she slept—how much she looked forward to evenings playing games and laughing into the night with Aunt Mo.
Deli had even become a sort of temp worker for the town and had been enlisted for all sorts of tasks—from helping Douglas clean out his closet to chasing off seagulls from The Wallflower’s dock while Andrew and the other local fishermen unloaded their catch.
Graham had taken her on a private tour so she could leave honest reviews on various sites (five stars, across the board).
She’d made arrangements from the garden for one of Aunt Mo’s coordinating gigs.
Still, Deli carried an ache in her wherever she went.
She’d arrived with the hope that her absence would spur a reckoning in Trey, Chloe, maybe even her mom, in a week—neat and tidy.
But she’d gotten only guilt trips from Lorraine, she hadn’t heard from Trey since the night of the talent show, and she hadn’t heard from Chloe at all.
A few days after her adventure in farming, Lachlan pretended to be busy polishing glasses while Deli waited for Blair at the bar and munched on salt-and-vinegar chips.
Deli decided to post a video of Mrs. Peevis before the otherworldly mountains, stark and stalwart against the moody sky—and she hoped it might catch someone’s attention or stir their imagination.
Deli figured there wasn’t harm in going along with the town’s theory about competition.
It seemed outlandish, but it was a distraction from all the waiting.
So she posted the video, and an embarrassed part of her wished Trey would see it and wonder if someone else was standing behind the camera with Deli, making her laugh in the land of The Highlander.
She nearly fell off her stool when her phone lit up with Trey’s name.
Our song came on while I was driving to an audition, and I got a callback You’re my good luck charm. I miss you. When are you coming back to me?
Deli’s heart pounded as her thumbs hovered over the glowing keyboard. Trey was up late, thinking of her. Missing her. She wished she could fall through the screen and be with him, but he’d missed her before. Trey had missed her so much he’d kissed her once, then sprung a secret girlfriend on her.
Missing her was great, but Deli needed Trey to love her.
Hey you. That’s incredible! What was the audition for? I’m so proud of you. But I’m not sure when I’m coming home . . .
She felt the swoosh of the text sending like a drop on a roller coaster. Things were working. She was on the right track. Soon, she thought.
Lachlan saw her smiling into her phone as he ran a rag along the counter. He was back to carrying a constant air of annoyance. “Writing love letters?”
Deli was going to win this scrimmage. She raised a superior eyebrow. “Yes, in fact. Trey just wanted to share some good news.”
“Did he, aye? And what’s that?”
She wasn’t sure why she needed to make it bigger than it was. “He has a callback for a major motion picture.”
Lachlan whistled in that big whoop kind of way. “Shall I call the press?”
It was Blair who saved Deli from saying something regrettable.
She dropped her bag on the bar top. “Lachlan, don’t be a fartface. And please bring us two cuppas.”
Lachlan grumbled away. Deli passed Blair a chip. “Fartface?”
Blair shrugged. “I have kids.”
Deli had sent Chloe two more texts and even tried calling since she’d been in Fearnhall. She’d heard nothing. But Deli and Blair passed two hours eating lunch like they’d known each other their whole lives.
What a thing it was—to marvel at something new, guilt stricken over something that might be lost.
Four cups of tea and three bags of chips later, Blair headed off to grab the “wee yins” from school with a hug and a promise to see each other again soon. Deli waited until she was out of sight to open her phone.
She refreshed the video, checking for likes or comments. There was nothing new. She just needed to be patient. Deli opened her email to find a waiting message from her mother. Her foot tapped against the barstool. She clicked.
To: Delilah MacDonald
From: Lorraine MacDonald
Subject: Doddy
Hi Sweetie,
I saw your video. Glad to see you’re safe.
When I was really little, my Gran had a Highland cow named Doddy out there, too.
I’m sure that’s not Doddy (she said Doddy was the short form of George in Gaelic!
George the Coo!), but it brought up fond memories.
I remember there were flowers that used to bloom all year long, like magic.
I used to make daisy chains for his horns.
Gran said as long as “Doddy had his daisies” he couldn’t be stolen by the faeries! She used to make them for us, too.
Are you coming home soon? We miss you.
Love,
Mom
Deli had a great-grand-cow named Doddy who’d worn daisies on his horns to keep safe from faeries, no matter the season. It was such an unexpected thing to be given, so sweet and true and sad, she actually stared at her empty hands like they might show her where to put it.
Her eyes drifted to the photo of Lachlan’s family on the wall of The Wallflower’s Crown.
His stern looking father and waifish mother; Lachlan, stoic even at six or seven years old; and a blond, curly-haired little brother standing in front of the door with a big set of keys. She’d dusted it a few days before.
“Oi, Hollywood.” Lachlan slid her a glass of water she didn’t ask for. “One? You need to hydrate.”
“I don’t.” (She did.)
“Two,” he said, ignoring her protests, “I’m meant to take you to the Highland Games practice tomorrow. Are you sure you still want to come? It’s just muddy, cold, and sweaty.”
She frowned. “Are you trying to convince me not to go?”
“Just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into. It’s not the sort of place you go to win a man. Can’t have you wasting your time, can we?”
Truthfully, Deli agreed. She didn’t even want to win a man, except the one missing her with her heart in his pocket. But something about Lachlan woke a feeling in her—some passionate refusal to turn away.
“Oh, I’m going.” She picked up the glass. “And I’ll enchant the most beautiful man there—whether you like it or not.” She stared at Lachlan in an unblinking challenge as she tried to chug her water. A trickle ran down the side of her mouth and to her neck.
He smirked. “Enchanting, indeed.”
She soaked up the dribble with the neck of her shirt. “You don’t even know. I’m the woo-ingest damn thing you ever saw.”
He wiped the water off the bar top. “Can’t wait.”