Rescuelander

by Samantha Liddell

  We ended up dumping the panel van on the side of the road near the mechanic’s. I did offer to torch it, as I had done to the castle in my dream, but for some reason, everyone was quick off the mark, and said, “Nooo, Letticia,” in unison. They obviously all had their sensible pants on again. Although, maybe not. James decided that he and Sophie would drive it back to Edinburgh themselves, for some crazy reason I was far too tired to even question. We said our goodbyes then, and all headed back to Edinburgh in two separate vehicles.

  We were only a few days into December, but to me that meant Christmas had started in my mind. We had not even driven out of Larbert township yet, and I had already convinced my soon-to-be Scottish husband to put the tree up once we got home. He was very traditional when it came to Christmas, and never put his tree up until twelve days before Christmas, and always took it down twelve days after Christmas. No earlier, no later. No exceptions.

  Well sorry, Scott, that’s just not going to work for me. Scott came to learn early on that he had to pick his battles with me, and thank baby Jesus himself that this was one battle Scott decided was not worth fighting over. Plus, he knew he would never have won anyway. Christmas and I were a force to be reckoned with.

  “Hells bells, I need to stop for gas, the tank is near empty,” Scott announced.

  “Great, because this tank of mine is full, and I need to use the bathroom,” I replied.

  We pulled over at the nearest gas station, just out of town. Scott’s eight-cylinder Range Rover, which took light years to fill up, was not even halfway filled by the time I came out of the very dirty, very unhygienic public toilets where I refused to lower my ever-so clean bumcheeks onto the toilet seat, so hovered just above it, which my calves and quads were not at all happy about. I decided to shake instead of wipe to avoid my hands coming into contact with any part of that bathroom, which meant washing my hands in an already germ-infested environment would not be necessary, although I did, however, have to somehow come up with an intelligent way to exit the bathroom without touching the door handle. I tried using my foot several times with no such luck, but then luck would have it, a perfectly healthy human being entered, allowing me to duck out around them as they came in.

  “My Lord be with you,” I said as we passed. I got a strange look, like I was some sort of preacher, but I wasn’t, obviously. I was just wishing them luck not to die from shigellosis, E. coli, hepatitis A, salmonella, crab louse, scabies, or worst yet, a dirty, disgusting STD. Yes, I had indeed done my research in the risks of using a public toilet, and it really was a serious matter.

  With Scott still pumping gas into his overthirsty but great-looking car, I decided to take a walk over to the park that was alongside the gas station. There was a lovely pond also that had ducks and swans gliding through the water. The swans looked so elegant. They reminded me of our experience meeting Fletcher back at Sandwood Bay, and learning about Caer lbormeith, the Goddess of Dreams’, legend. We had left Sandwood Bay without any solid answers on how I was able to bring Scott into my dreams, in fact, I think we left even more confused. I did, however, learn to have faith that everything would work out just as planned. Scott taught me to have faith in life, so that’s what I have been trying to do ever since.

  However, having faith at this very moment that I was not about to get attacked by that black swan that was charging towards me with that very large pointy red beak didn’t seem to be working. It took me a few seconds to realise that it was in fact coming for me. I turned in complete horror; this was the last thing I needed, to be injured by a crazy swan and not be able to participate in putting the Christmas tree up later that afternoon at Swans Cottage. I did have my priorities in order, no matter what anyone said. So I turned and ran my scared little, worrying, fear-of-missing-out-on-Christmas-activities heart out, back to Scott, who was now in the Range Rover waiting for me, watching the whole situation unfold.

  I don’t think I had ever run so fast in my life. He could have started up the car and driven towards me to pick me up and get me out of the danger I was presently in, but he was too busy in fits of laughter, tears rolling out of his eyes and all. I was waving my arms furiously and yelling at Scott to help. When he finally stopped laughing, he turned the car on and started driving towards me. He threw a stale gas-station sandwich out the window for me. I grabbed it effortlessly, thanks to the team C netball skills I had acquired in my schooling years. How thoughtful, I am rather peckish, no pun attended, I thought as I continued running. I ripped open the packed and took a bite, all the while still running towards the safety of the Range Rover.

  Scott yelled out, “Not for you, for the swan!”

  I was confused and yelled back with a mouthful of sandwich, “What?”

  Scott pointed at the swan. “Feed it to the swan.”

  I finally understood his sign language, because above the harsh sound of my breathing, I, for one could not hear what on earth he was trying to yell to me. “Ah yes, of course.” I ripped of a large bit of bread from the sandwich but made sure to keep more for me. After all, I really was extremely peckish. I threw it back towards the angry swan who had issues. Surprisingly it stopped in its tracks as it got what it wanted: a nice bit of stale white bread. After all, isn’t that what anyone really wants in this world? Not stale white bread, obviously, but food. Food was the answer to anyone’s problems—feel happy? Eat. Feel sad? Eat. Feel angry or lonely or finally meet your Scottish kilt-wearing warrior of a man? Eat. The list is endless. Well it was in my world anyway.

  I finally got back into the passenger seat of the Range Rover, red-faced, sweaty, and puffing my lungs out, and no doubt smelly, a nice mix of sweat and wee, no doubt, thanks to my lack of wiping back in the bathroom. Scott really must love me for me, ’cause I for sure do not see what he would see in someone like me right now. I sat in the seat and reclined it right back into a lying position.

  “Hells bells, I almost died out there,” I said in between breaths of air. “I just got attacked by a swan.”

  Scott corrected me. “Almost got attacked by a swan, Letticia.”

  I turned my head to look at him. “Ah, tomato, tamahto.”

  Scott laughed. “If you say so, Letticia.”

  We drove away from that crazy-attacking-swan land in silence for the next few minutes as I concentrated on regaining my composure. Scott was the first to talk. “Aye, maybe that swan was trying to tell you something,” he joked.

  “Yeah, like what? Time to get a gym membership maybe,” I replied.

  “Well yeah, that too, but also maybe it is in fact Caer Ibormeith, the Goddess of Dreams, trying to tell you to believe in it, and to have faith,” Scott said with a wink.

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you start going all spiritual on me again, Scott, I just had a near-death experience.”

  “Aye, isn’t that the best time to go all spiritual, though?”

  I put my finger up to his mouth to shush him; thankfully it worked. Really? Did Scott just agree I needed to invest in a gym membership? A delayed thought came into my head, but I decided to not bring it up. I was in no mood to win a case that in hindsight wasn’t mine to win in the first place. Scott may have a point, though totally not for weight issues, of course, but more to do with health and fitness. I’m sure that’s what Scott meant.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Welcome Home

  * * *

  So as another adventure ended, one that involved Scott and I at Torwood Castle, Scotland, along with my cousin Sophie, her boyfriend, James, two crazy ex’s—oh, and we can’t forget a crazy black swan with issues—it was fair to say, driving up the long, stony, uneven driveway of Swans Cottage after being adultnapped for over twenty-four hours was a true blessing indeed.

  Scott lay a hand upon my knee as we drove through the gates and left it there for the duration of the drive up. I was so excited to see everyone after my many near-death experiences I had encountered in the last day or two, reality and dream-based, of course. My dreams were
starting to feel so real as they began to blend into my reality that it was sometimes hard to remember what was in fact a dream, and what had been reality.

  Scott pulled up into the carport beside the cottage and leaned over to kiss me on my lips. “Aye, back safe and sound once again,” he said with another wink.

  I kissed him back before saying, “Thank you, glad to be home. After all, what is a queen without her king?”

  “Well historically speaking, more powerful,” Scott replied.

  I laughed. “Well I can’t argue with that, can I now?”

  We had not even begun to open the car doors to get out when they opened themselves, with the help of Polly, Leah, and my parents, who were overjoyed to see us finally home—either that, or overjoyed that their days of eating haggis had hopefully come to an end.

  Our clan hug finally came to an end on the front veranda, as Brysen and Bonnie appeared from inside.

  “Glad to see you finally made it back to Swans Cottage again, Letticia. Don’t worry, I held down the fort while you had gone AWOL, as you do,” Brysen joked.

  Scott and I decided not to tell Brysen about his mother, and what she had done to Sophie and I in her drunken state. “Well thank you, Brysen, I really appreciate it, and yes, I need to work on not going AWOL so often, don’t I.”

  “Aye, come here, just glad to have you home, and in good time too. You should make it to the supermarket before it shuts,” he teased.

  I ignored his last comment, the supermarket was the last place I was planning on going today. If he couldn’t handle any more haggis or shortbread, then he was more than welcome to go himself.

  I turned my attention on my parents, who looked cold and hungry out on the veranda. “Mum, Dad, it’s so good to see you finally, how was your trip over? Sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. I will explain it all later. Let’s get inside for a nice hot cuppa and catch up.”

  Scott agreed with my plan and followed us in, holding Polly and Leah, who had jumped on him for a cuddle. If I wasn’t mistaken, it looked like they had missed Scott more that they had missed me. I let it go, though. After all, we did share the same DNA, which entitled being drawn to Scottish men.

  As I walked through the front door, I noticed the pile of sticks in a heap still on the doormat. Why nobody thought about sweeping them up was beyond me, so instead I picked them up in my cold, numb hands and took them inside and threw them into the log fire. This art exhibition had now closed, never to reopen again. I hoped, anyway. It really was a huge fail for the artists involved, stick art was so last year. I giggled to myself.

  With the cups of tea all drunk and the shortbread all eaten, I stood up from the table and announced to everyone, “Right, time to put on your boots and jackets, we’re off to find a Christmas tree.”

  I saw my dad, Scott, and Brysen all look at their watches, most likely checking the date, and I could read their minds—Christmas tree? Really? It’s only the first week of December.

  I answered their thoughts. “It’s never too early when Christmas is involved.”

  Brysen let out a sarcastic laugh. “Aye, I think you will find it is too early for the majority of the year, unless it’s the twenty-fifth of December.”

  I was shocked. By the looks of things, I was surrounded by Christmas grinches! Well, I would soon be changing that. Polly, Leah, and myself were the biggest Christmas fans out. Christmas this year at Swans Cottage was going to be a year not to forget. I was going to make sure of it.

  James and Sophie were still yet to arrive back to Swans Cottage. I was not worried, though, after all, they were young, and probably doing what young people do these days: deflating air mattresses, I thought to myself as I gave a little giggle. I decided I would text them in a few hours if they had yet to return, which reminded me, I should really turn my phone on and check it. I was doing well, I thought, even though it had been out of my control, but being offline was liberating. The things I had done while being offline, the places I had been. I should really go offline more often, and by the looks off it, I would continue to be offline for a few more hours yet, as I was intercepted by Scott as I was walking towards my phone.

  He picked me up and swung me around. “Well, Sassenach, let’s go get that Christmas tree of yours. You can choose whatever one your heart desires out in the cold, chilly Scottish woods.”

  “Well, if it’s wearing a kilt, then that’s a given that it’s mine forever,” I joked.

  “Aye, a kilt-wearing Christmas tree, you say. I don’t fancy your chances there, Letticia.”

  “I never fancied my chances in finding a kilt-wearing Scottish warrior either, Scott, and look what I have now,” I replied.

  Scott looked amused. “You give a very valid point there, then.”

  “Yes of course I do, you put it out there to the universe and you shall receive.”

  “Aye, well, then, where is my million dollars, universe?” Scott asked.

  I grinned at Scott. “Right here, looking at you. I am your million dollars.”

  “Really? Funny that, you look nothing like a mansion, a yacht, or a Porsche,” Scott teased.

  “Oh, but that’s the thing, I’m so much more that. I am your Sassenach, I make you a million times happier than any of those other things could.”

  “Aye, that you do, none of those things would let me do this to them,” Scott said as he picked me up and placed me on top of the kitchen bench, about to have his way with me, until I stopped him.

  “Scott I have a kilt-wearing Christmas tree to go chop down, you need to focus for once.”

  “Aye, very well, then. By the way, those million-dollars things would have never denied me in such a way, though, come to think of it.”

  I gave Scott two friendly pats on the cheek. “Ah, yes, but they would also never do what I’m going to surprise you with tonight, either.”

  Scott was clearly intrigued. “You have my attention.”

  “Well keep that attention for tonight, then, because believe me, you are not going to want to miss a second of it.”

  Scott looked excited at that, like a little boy on Christmas morning waking up to a tree packed with presents underneath with his name on them all.

  I grabbed Scott’s hand as we ran to catch up with the others, who had already started walking towards the woods, in search of the most perfect-shaped Christmas tree to fill Swans Cottage up with all that magical Christmas spirit. By the looks of things, though, the rest of the clan was missing their Christmas spirit, apart from my children and I. Even my mum was not on our team and had stuck with the rest of the Christmas grinches.

  I decided to let Polly and Leah choose the perfect Christmas tree. They both had great taste when it came to Christmas trees, just like their mother did, so I had complete faith—yes, faith—in them that they would help chop down the best one in the woods—just as I had chopped down, or more like handpicked, the best Scottish man in Scotland.

  After walking around in circles for the past hour or so, examining tree after tree for its finest Christmas qualities it had on offer, which believe it or not there was a rather involved list to follow, including testing the branches, as the girls and I started from the top of the list, we realised we had an audience who were standing back and letting us do our thing. Scott, Dad, Mum, Brysen, and Bonnie were all there, witnessing an intense Christmas-tree testing in obvious amusement.

  We continued to test the bushes. I gave a running commentary as we did so, explaining to everyone what we were doing. “So, we are now grabbing the branches of the tree between our thumbs and forefinger and gently clamping down while pulling it towards ourselves. If we end up with a handful of needles, the tree is already past its prime,” I explained.

  “Maybe Olive could try that with my hair. Although, I’m pretty sure I already know I am past my prime,” Dad joked.

  “Well unlike your hair, Dad, this tree is looking as if it may be well before its prime, with the lack of needles in my hand. Right, on to test number t
wo. We crush the needles in our hands to check for the Christmas pine scent, if the tree doesn’t give off a million Christmas memories from your childhood, we move on to the next one,” I said.

  The girls and I stood there for a minute of two with a handful of pine needles and our eyes shut tight as we took in deep breaths, examining the smells. All at once we opened our eyes, and in unison said, “Nope, this is not the one.”

  Our audience, standing there in anticipation, and in hope of finally getting out of the cold, all said, “Nooooo,” in unison also.

  I looked at them, disappointed with their lack of Christmas enthusiasm. “I’m sorry, guys, but we are in need of the perfect Christmas tree, and we will not settle for second best. You know all too well I never settle for second best anymore,” I said, looking mainly at Scott, and then everyone else.

  “Aye, that you don’t, but maybe just once you could consider it when it comes to Christmas trees?” Scott suggested.

  “Never. I would never be so irresponsible and do such a thing. Right, come on, clan, on our way. We have a tree to find.”

  After a few more tree examinations that failed terribly, we had found the one. I don’t know whether it was because of the quality of the branches or the amazing scent of the pine needles, or it very well could have been the kilt that it was somehow wearing around the base of it, which was Scott’s final attempt for the girls and I to just get on with it and pick a tree. Scott had obviously sneaked away for a bit, grabbed a kilt from back at Swans Cottage, and quickly returned and dressed the next tree in line for examination in a kilt.

  As the girls and I moved on to the next tree that was now kilted up, I stopped in my tracks. I was in love; this was the one. There were no two ways about it. I didn’t even have to fully complete the tests on the branches or the needles. I mean, hells bells, it was in a kilt. It was made for the King/Little clan. I did, however, have to consult with Leah and Polly to see if they agreed that this was the tree. After an in-depth private discussion, I was ready for the final announcement.