“What’s our first destination?”
“Food.”
They stopped in a charming hamlet north of Inverslie and ate in a café attached to what Isabel called an all-in-one store. There were souvenirs of every sort: maps, both of olden days and modern, plaid hats, scarves, and blankets of the different clan colors. Nestled in the corner of the shop with a window overlooking an arched bridge was the café. There were only four small square tables with chairs.
They were the only customers in the store, probably because of the early hour and the rain. It was coming down in torrents now.
After the waiter took their order, an older gentleman came over to the table to introduce himself.
He was tall, bulky through his sloped shoulders, and had a thick salt-and-pepper beard and a nice smile. He was also quite affable.
He welcomed them and said, “My name is Lachlan, and I’m the owner’s father. How are you liking the weather?” he asked as he pulled out a chair and sat. He chatted with them while they ate and answered all of Isabel’s questions about the area.
“Lachlan, will you help me find a map or two showing where all the clans are?” she asked.
“Old or new? Do you want to know where they are now or where they were back when?” He smiled then and said, “It’s about the same. Borders haven’t changed in centuries in some areas.” He went to a wall with a display of maps and postcards. He returned to them with four different maps.
“As soon as you finish your scone, I’ll open them up and let you decide which ones you want.”
“Did you grow up around here?” she asked.
“No, no,” he answered. “I was born and raised in a tiny hamlet no bigger than a thumbprint not too far away from the Moray Firth.” He pulled the chair out and sat again. “I’m a Highlander through and through,” he boasted. “My job took me to Glasgow, and that’s where I met my wife and where our son and daughter were born. We still live there,” he added. “I’m only here for a few more days while my daughter and her husband attend a wedding in London. Why are you folks here?”
“We wanted to see all the places we’ve read about,” Isabel explained.
Michael was watching Lachlan. He could see the worry in his eyes and knew he wanted to talk.
He was right. As soon as the dishes were removed, Lachlan angled his chair closer to Isabel.
Here we go again, Michael thought.
“I’ve been trying to talk my wife into moving to my hamlet. I miss it, and that’s where all my relatives are. I talk to my cousins, Hamish and Rory, almost every day, and they keep me up on all the news. I recently inherited my mother’s cottage,” he continued. “But my wife has been ill . . .”
He gave Michael a furtive glance. Lachlan was a little reticent to talk in front of him, but Michael wasn’t about to leave Isabel’s side, and so he pulled out his phone to answer his texts. He pretended not to hear the man tell Isabel his problems.
“She’s been ill?” Isabel said, her voice filled with sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”
“For a while it was bad, real bad. It’s her blood,” he explained. “She has great doctors in Glasgow.” His voice shook with emotion, and there were tears in his eyes. Isabel reached over and put her hand on top of his. He grabbed hold and held tight as he continued. He talked for almost fifteen minutes, and when he was finished, Isabel gently pulled her hand back and said, “It sounds like you’re doing a wonderful job of taking care of her.”
Tears cluttered his eyes again. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped them away. “I don’t know what I would do without her,” he whispered.
Michael had been listening, of course. He realized that while Lachlan talked, he was actually working out his own solutions and getting rid of any guilt he harbored. Isabel had made a connection with this man because she understood his pain and his loneliness, for she had experienced both when she lost her mother and didn’t have anyone to help her get through it.
“Of course, I can’t ask her to move. Leaving doctors she has such faith in would be wrong.” He took Isabel’s sympathetic smile as an approval. “You know what? We could use the cottage for a getaway every now and then. It’s not such a long drive. My wife would like that.” He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Having worked out the problem, he was ready to move on. “Let’s get to those maps,” he said. “I’m going to be making marks with this red pen, so I’ll be giving you this map for free.”