by Darci Balogh
Her Scottish Keep
Darci Balogh
Knowhere Media
Copyright © 2019 by Darci Balogh
ISBN 978-1-943990-17-7
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For my daughters, Taylor and Jodi,
You have been my motivation to strive for something better in life and my reminder that I am already richly blessed. May your lives be full of joyous adventures and may all of your dreams come true.
Love you always,
Mom
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Darci Balogh
Chapter One
Tawnyetta's periwinkle bridesmaid dress was holding her back. Three unopened bottles of champagne in her arms didn't help, and lugging them up a ladder added another layer of difficulty. The dark green bottles, heavy with their bubbling elixir of happiness, knocked together precariously as she moved. They rolled against one another, the glass sounding both strong and fragile. Every time they bumped together she cringed, afraid one was going to explode before she got to her destination. This concern was troublesome, for sure, but Tawnyetta had bigger problems. The most formidable being the ladder, which was over 30-years old and originally built for children.
Late June in Colorado was beautiful as always. Balmy. The setting sun painted the middle class suburban back yard with brilliant orange, pink and red light. Aside from the rolling champagne bottles, and Tawnyetta complaining under her breath, there was only one other noise punctuating the early evening air–the muffled sound of a woman crying.
Tawnyetta kept a firm grip on the ladder with one hand and held the champagne in her other arm as if she was carrying a baby. An unwieldy, cold, slippery baby. Silently cursing the floor length satin skirt that tangled around her feet, Tawnyetta made her way carefully up the ladder leading to the tree house. One rung at a time.
A heavy perfume of lilacs filled her nose. Maybe the scent came from her parent's lilac bushes that lined both sides of their back yard, or maybe it was from the floral arrangement pinned in her hair that bobbed up and down unsteadily as she dangled five feet off the ground. She wasn't sure. The smell brought back memories. Sweeping her away to summer evenings when she was a kid. The kind that had always made her want to stay outside and play until long after dark. She glanced at the glowing sky to the West. Soon the sun would set behind the purple Rocky Mountains and leave a blank slate for the stars to fill. A perfect night for a wedding.
The low murmur of women's voices floated down from the tree house above. The clanking champagne bottles had not yet captured their attention. Everyone in the tree house was focused on one thing and one thing only. As she neared the top of the ladder the muted burble of Bridget's blubbering grew louder and Tawnyetta steeled herself for the scene she was about to join.
Bridget was the bride. Tawnyetta wondered if that was technically correct. Was she still considered a bride? She had not yet changed out of her $5,000 wedding dress and tonight was her wedding night, but since the wedding had been called off...well, she guessed it didn't matter anymore. She was Bridget and she was always the center of attention. Bride or not.
Tawnyetta made it to the top of the ladder and pushed up on the trapdoor with the crown of her head. She was probably dealing a death blow to the flopping lilac twisted into her hair, but she figured she was safe. No wedding photos to worry about at this point.
The trapdoor pulled open from above and Luna peered down. She reached through the square hole and offered Tawnyetta a hand, who took it gratefully. Luna wore her own periwinkle dress, slightly paler, and it snagged on the rough wood as she helped Tawnyetta into the tree house. Luna's face was creased with concern. Whether she was worried about ruining her dress, the champagne bottles breaking, the unstable ladder, or the bawling bride, wasn't clear.
"How's our patient?" Tawnyetta asked.
Luna gave her a worried smile. Tawnyetta didn't really need to ask. She knew how Bridget was doing, because now that she was inside the tree house the bride's weeping rang in her ears.
"Tawny!" Bridget exclaimed upon seeing Tawnyetta pulling herself, the champagne, and yards and yards of periwinkle satin through a trapdoor built for sixth graders.
"I brought refreshments," Tawnyetta said, holding up a bottle. She hoped it might lighten the mood.
Bridget's crying grew louder.
"Don't cry, Bridge," Tawnyetta said, grunting a little as she crawled next to Luna and yanked the last of her dress through the trapdoor, slamming it shut with her periwinkle dyed satin pumps.
"But that was for my reception! I was supposed to drink that champagne as a married woman! M-m-married to Christopher!" Bridget wailed.
Tawnyetta looked around at the beleaguered bridesmaids; Luna, Sofia, and Angie. All three of them wore the same dress she wore, but in variegated shades of periwinkle. They sat scrunched against the walls of the tree house, their feet meeting in the middle. This space used to hold all of them with room to spare, but now barely allowed them enough room to crawl around each other, especially in their giant dresses.
As the maid of honor and Bridget's official "best" friend, Tawnyetta felt a responsibility to handle this situation.
"Well," she said, peeling the foil off of the first bottle. "Instead of focusing on the negative, tonight we're going to use this champagne to celebrate your freedom."
"Here, here!" declared Angie, clapping her hands lightly in front of her chest like a little girl.
"Do we have cups?" Sofia asked.
They all exchanged a look. Bridget stopped crying and sniffled. Tawnyetta paused in her uncorking. She hadn't thought about cups.
"Hang on," Luna said. With some difficulty she managed to turn around and rummage through the tiny, child-sized cupboard they had used to store snacks for their club meetings when they were kids. "Ta-da!" Luna said triumphantly as she held up a dusty old package of Dixie cups. "Remember when we pretended Kool-Aid was wine?"
Tawnyetta smiled. She did remember. They all remembered. The five of them had been friends since kindergarten, and had created the Purple Clover Club in second grade when her older brothers and her Dad had built this tree house.
Before anyone could respond, Tawnyetta's phone buzzed. She had stuck it inside her strapless bra for the ceremony, because her periwinkle dress had no pockets. As soon as she felt hers buzz, the other bridesmaid's phones started ringing and buzzing. Everyone reached into their cleavage to pull them out. Everyone except Bridget, whose mouth dropped open in shock.
"You carried your phones into my wedding?" She asked with some measure o
f indignation.
Ignoring her, Tawnyetta read the group text they had all received. She delivered the message to the phoneless bride, "It's Thomas. He wants to know where we are."
Thomas was a late addition to their group and an unofficial member of the Purple Clover Club. Because, officially, boys weren't allowed. Funny they'd never really thought of him as a boy. He'd always been odd, funny, and wicked smart, so they'd allowed him to hang around with them ever since fourth grade.
Though not a bridesmaid, Thomas had been a groomsman. He had witnessed Bridget's dramatic freak out while walking down the aisle towards her groom only moments after finding out he had cheated on her during their engagement. And now Thomas was checking on them.
"Don't let him bring Christopher here!" Bridget said.
"He wouldn't," Luna responded. "He knows."
Tawnyetta typed in a two word answer to him, 'tree house', and hit send. No other explanation was needed.
Bridget scooted over. Her ice white gown puffed around her like giant mounds of meringue. If she realized the rough wood floor of the tree house was most likely tearing the bottom of her princess wedding gown to pieces, she didn't seem to care. She patted the space next to her and said, "Tawny, sit by me."
Bridget had called Tawnyetta 'Tawny' since she could remember. She had a thing for nicknames and had created one for each of them. Sofia was 'Fifi', Angie was 'Gigi', Luna was 'Lulu', and Thomas was 'Mister'. They had never figured out where she came up with 'Mister', but that's what Bridget had called him for as long as they'd been friends – which was to say, forever.
Bridget had tried to force them all to call her 'Gidget', but it never stuck. It was, in Tawnyetta's opinion, not really possible to create a nickname for yourself.
Tawnyetta climbed carefully across the periwinkle clad feet and billowing skirts of her friends until she could plop down next to Bridget. She kept the almost opened bottle of champagne carefully pointed towards the ceiling the whole way.
"At least I'll have my maid of honor next to me tonight," Bridget said with a dismal smile.
"Sure," Tawnyetta said. "I'm here. We all are. Want a drink?"
Bridget's blue eyes widened with eager consent. Even red rimmed from crying she had the most beautiful blue eyes. It was a shame the wedding hadn't worked out with her being such a lovely bride. With long, blonde ringlets, full lips, and those baby blues made even more noticeable from perfectly applied makeup, she really was stunning. Tawnyetta was surprised to notice that Bridget's mascara wasn't even running. Always well put together, their Bridget.
Tawnyetta looked around at the others as they passed the bottle of champagne, pouring the fizzing drink into their Dixie cups.
Angie looked like a fairy. Her long, curly, dark red hair bloomed wildly around her face. Porcelain skin prone to freckle in the sun made her dark brown eyes look almost black. The contrast was not only gorgeous, but gave a hint at her flair for the dramatic.
Sofia sat next to Angie. She had more curves than any of them. Voluptuous, proud of it, and smart as a whip as well. With her deep brown skin, thick black hair that hung down straight as an arrow past her waist, and wide, almond shaped eyes that shone emerald green behind black rimmed glasses, Sofia was an exotic beauty.
Luna was Sofia's younger cousin and second in many ways to her in the looks department. Where Sofia was bold, strong, and assertive, Luna was soft, slender, and mild. She had lighter, sepia toned skin, pale brown eyes, and rich chestnut hair. Her hair, however, had a natural wave that Sofia's did not. It spilled over her slender shoulders and down her back in a soft waterfall of swirls. She may have been the younger cousin, and she may not have the same arresting kind of beauty that Sofia did, but Luna was just as smart and exquisite in her own way.
Compared to her friends Tawnyetta knew she didn't quite measure up in the looks department. Tall, almost 5' 11", and lanky, she was small chested and had more of a boyish frame than the rest of the Purple Clover Club – except Thomas. That worked for Tawnyetta. She thought of herself as a little sportier than the others. Always up for hiking, water sports, skiing, tennis, fencing, kickboxing, or whatever, Tawnyetta figured her wiry body suited her interests to a 'T'.
Her hair was so brown it was almost black, but not quite, and cut right at her ears into what she hoped was a funky look. She wore very little makeup, like Luna. But her skin didn't have the same gorgeous natural coloring as Luna. Tawnyetta was pale with long arms and gangly legs. She did, however, have one feature that could be considered uniquely pretty. Her amber eyes. Sometimes they appeared light brown, sometimes a burnished gold, but most of the time the golden flecks in her eyes gave them the appearance of glowing amber. Bridget called them her wolf eyes.
"This is nice," Angie said and held her paper cup of champagne up to her nose so the bubbles could tickle it.
"Are you feeling any better?" Sofia asked Bridget.
"I will be," Bridget responded as she tipped the bottle, splashing more champagne into her cup. She let out a soft, shuddering sigh, "I just don't know how I got here, you know?" They all watched her with empathy. "I thought I was going to skate into 30 ready to start a family of my own. I thought he was the one," Bridget said, her eyes welling up with tears.
"I hear you, sister," Angie said as she tilted her Dixie cup toward Bridget in a silent toast.
The comment worked and Bridget chuckled instead of falling into a new bout of bawling.
Tawnyetta put her arm around her friend's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "We've all been there, Bridge."
And they all had. Well, maybe not this version. But some version of this colossal breakup had played out in every one of their lives at one point. Some of them many times over.
"Remember Antoine?" Angie asked with a giggle.
This sent a ripple of laughter through all of them.
With a roll of her eyes Sofia injected, "And what about Carlos?"
Again, laughter.
Over their decades of friendship each one of them had suffered through every kind of bad relationship. Bridget at least had made it to the altar. Almost.
"Maybe we've been focusing a little too much on men," Luna offered, her voice light and whisper thin.
They all looked at her.
"What do you mean?" asked Sofia.
Luna chewed her bottom lip, which she did when she was about to philosophize.
"I mean...I've been thinking a lot about this lately," she said. "I feel like, for me at least, I've spent a little too much time worrying about dating and falling in love and not focusing enough on myself."
Sofia's eyebrows knit together. "You went to college. You bought a car and a condo."
"Yeah, yeah, I did. That's true." Luna sank back against the wall, unable to fully explain her meaning.
"You're talking about big things," Angie suggested. She arched her eyebrows at Luna who nodded in agreement. "Not just accomplishments, right?" Luna nodded again. "Dreams!" Angie exclaimed, raising her eyes toward the ceiling and the unseen sky above it.
"Yes, dreams," Luna agreed.
"I've always dreamed of having a beautiful wedding," Bridget said quietly. Tawnyetta wasn't sure she had meant to say it out loud.
Luna leaned forward again, wanting to make her point. "That's what I mean. Did you ever think much about what you would do after your big, beautiful wedding?"
"My honeymoon?" Bridget answered uncertainly. They all giggled. Bridget sighed heavily. "That amazing Scottish castle we were going to visit."
"You could go to a Scottish castle on your own," Sofia said.
"Yes! That's what I mean," Luna agreed.
Tawnyetta felt something stir in her chest. She, too, had been feeling an unnamed emptiness lately. Hadn't been able to shake it. Every day seemed the same and she moved through it with a lack of direction, a lack of purpose. Apparently she hadn't been the only one.
"It's strange that we're all single now," Tawnyetta mused.
All eyes turned toward her.
<
br /> Bridget sniffled and blinked at her. "We are, aren't we?"
"Unexpectedly unattached," Luna said. Naming it.
The comment made Tawnyetta smile.
"What if we toasted ourselves tonight?" Angie asked. "What if we didn't toast our freedom from men or our singleness, but instead toasted our dreams?"
Tawnyetta felt a shiver in Bridget's shoulders. She looked at her friend in her fragile state. "What's wrong, Bridge?"
"What if I don't know what my dream is?"
"We'll help you figure it out," Sofia said. She leaned towards the center lifting her Dixie cup into the air. "We'll all help each other go after our dreams. Man or not. Wedding or no wedding. We deserve to have our dreams come true."
"Here, here!" Angie lifted her cup into the air as well.
Maybe it was the light from the orange and pink sunset pouring through the cutout windows. Maybe it was the memories of this place. Maybe it was because they were suspended above the ground where nothing was solid or certain. As they sat in a haphazard circle just like they had a thousand times as kids, Tawnyetta experienced a pang of bittersweet. She felt as if they had all lost something. Not just Bridget and her ruined wedding, her never to be marriage. But all of them. They had given up something precious in the decade or more since they'd last gathered in this rickety tree house.
Was it really something they could find again?
"What do you dream of?" Angie asked all of them, her red hair seemed on fire in the glowing light of the sunset. "What do you really dream of?"
