by Karen Kelly
His wife needn’t have worried. Wally had been springing into boats since he was a youngster, and he easily reached the top of the barrel, haggis intact. Pausing to be sure of his balance, he stood up tall and positioned his feet for the throw. As he took a deep breath, he heard Emily’s voice cheering for him.
Rearing his arm back, he hurled the haggis as hard as his workman muscles allowed. The spectators joined his daughter’s and friends’ cheers as they watched the Scottish delicacy sail through the air and land far beyond the marks of all the previous hurls. The cheers increased when Wally turned toward his family and bowed, his face flushed.
Ian turned to Emily. “Your cheering was very effective! You must come next year if I enter the Bonnie Knees contest.”
Em giggled. “OK, Mr. Mayor.” She tugged on Peggy’s shoulder and beckoned her to bend down so she could whisper, “Mama, how do you cheer for knees?”
“We’ve got a whole year to figure that out, Em,” Peggy whispered back.
They turned their attention back to the few remaining haggis hurlers, keeping their eyes trained on the marker indicating Wally’s results. When every haggis had been hurled, it was clear he had won the audience round.
The announcer called Wally over to him and said, “I’m hard-pressed to remember a better haggis hurling from an audience member, my lad. What’s your name, and where do you hail from?”
Not one to be comfortable speaking to crowds, Wally cleared his throat before he answered, “I’m Wally Carson, and I live in Stony Point.” Then he added, “Maine, of course.”
“Well, Wally from Stony Point, you might consider signing up for the official competition next year,” the announcer suggested. “You’ve got quite an arm.” He opened the sporran hanging from his waist and pulled out a piece of paper. “The Highland Games would like to treat you to a meal at any one of our fine food vendors.” He handed the certificate to Wally as the crowd cheered.
As Wally walked back to his family and friends, the announcer called for the athletes of the next competition, the Hammer Throw. The group gathered around Wally, offering their congratulations. He handed Peggy the gift certificate and picked up Emily, twirling her around. “Em, your cheering did the job! I heard you loud and clear.”
“Mr. Mayor wants me to cheer for his knees next year,” his daughter informed him.
Wally laughed and glanced at Ian. “Good! They’re going to need it!”
“Are you going to take the announcer’s suggestion and enter the real competition next year?” Alice asked. “Your throw really was impressive.”
Wally considered the question for a minute and then shrugged. “Probably not. I’m not thrilled about the idea of jumping onto that barrel in a skirt!”
The first athlete in the hammer-throwing competition, dressed in a black-and-red kilt, stepped into a chalked box and positioned himself with his back to the field, his heels planted near a wood barrier. The announcer reminded the crowd that the feet of competitors were not allowed to move until the throw was completed or the throw would be disqualified. Tuning out the activity around him, the athlete settled the hammer—a 16-pound metal ball attached to a bamboo shaft—on the ground to the right of his body. Bending down, he adjusted his grip on the shaft and then pulled the heavy sphere to the left and into the air. His muscles straining, he swung the weight in a circle three times and released it over his shoulder with a yell.
Ian clapped for the athlete’s effort. “Talk about needing strength and balance! I’d forgotten just how impressive the skills of these Highland Games athletes are.”
“And this is the ‘light’ round!” marveled Annie.
The Hammer Throw competition fell into a rhythm of take stance, swing, and release. The 16-pound division was completed and the 22-pound Heavy Hammer competition began. Annie found herself relaxing and putting the mystery of the sporran and ferrule in its proper place. It would be solved in time, and she could enjoy the day and the company of her friends.
An athlete dressed in a kilt of green, navy, and yellow stepped into the box. Someone yelled, “Swing it sound, Hep!” The deep concentration that had been on his face wavered, and he looked around to see from where the shout had come. Then, shaking it off, he bent to his task. Placing the weight to his left, he hefted it and swung. On the third swing the man began to lose balance and was forced to release the hammer early.
Annie had uncapped her water bottle for a sip when Ian realized the hammer was sailing directly at her.
9
“Annie!” Shouting her name, Ian lunged to pull her out of harm’s way. As they collapsed on the ground, the 22-pound metal ball and shaft flew over their heads, landing behind them with a dull thunk.
Alice, Wally, Peggy, and Emily all dashed to where they lay in a heap. Annie opened her eyes, looking straight into the worried gray eyes of her impromptu bodyguard.
“Are you all right?” he gasped, his arms still clasped around her.
“Yes.” Her water bottle had been pressed between Ian and her, and she could feel the dampness spreading to both of them. “Sorry about the water.”
“Let her up, you big lug!” Alice ordered Ian, but a smile hovered around her mouth. “Makes no sense to rescue her from a concussion and then squash her ribs.”
Ian shook the fog of relief from his mind, let go of Annie, and sprang to his feet. He bent over and offered his hand to help her up. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
Annie shook her head as she straightened her blouse. “Of course you didn’t hurt me, Ian. I was distracted, and you saved me from serious harm.” She shook her arms and moved her legs. “See? I’m perfectly fine. Thank you!”
The athlete with the wayward throw ducked under the barrier and approached them, his face red with embarrassment. “I am so sorry! I can’t believe I almost hit you! Is there anything I can do?”
Annie couldn’t be mad at the repentant young man. “Don’t worry … What’s your name again?” She couldn’t quite remember what the person in the crowd had called him.
“Hep,” the man answered, his burly shape still shaking a little. “I’ve never come so close to hitting anybody before.”
Annie reached out to pat Hep on the arm. “Please don’t be embarrassed, Hep. It could happen to anyone. As you can see, we’re all completely healthy. I’m sure your next two tries will go better.”
“I sure hope you’re right.” Hep glanced back at the Hammer Throw action going on without him. “I better get back now. Thank you for understanding.”
The Stony Point group wished him well and watched as he strode back to the line of athletes. “I just can’t help liking that man,” Peggy declared. “You could tell he really meant what he said.”
Annie opened her mouth to reply when her stomach gave a loud rumble everyone could hear.
“Sounds like danger has made you ravenous.” Alice nudged her best friend. “Can we pull you away from watching Hep’s last throws to get something to eat?”
Annie patted her grumbling stomach and grimaced at the dampness of her blouse. “I think I can be persuaded, as long as they allow wet clothes in the food tents.” She pulled her hat back on, retrieving it from the spot where Ian had tackled her.
Peggy dug into her bag. “This is going to sound strange, but I’ve got a cloth diaper in here.” She looked up at the chuckles. “Hey, don’t laugh. Diapers will soak up just about anything.” Her fingers caught the edge of the cloth and she pulled it out. “Here.” She offered it to Annie.
“Thanks, Peggy.” Annie gratefully pressed the thick cloth against the damp front of her blouse. “Do you have an extra one? Ian was rewarded for his chivalry with a dousing himself.”
Ian waved off the offer. “Don’t worry about my shirt. It’ll probably be dry before we get to the food area.” He looked at Annie as she dabbed away. “Can you walk and wipe at the same time?”
“I think so,” answered Annie. “But if I can’t, you may want to stay handy, just in case.”
Alice leaned close to Peggy and whispered, “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Do you?”
“Not at all,” Peggy answered with a wink.
Ian helped Wally pick up the chairs, and Peggy folded the quilt and slid it back into her bag. Walking toward the food court, the group stopped to consider what to eat. “Does anyone want anything specific for lunch?” Ian asked, ever the leader.
“I’ve heard they have some wicked meat pies here,” said Wally. “I’d like to see if it’s true.”
“Are you sure you don’t want haggis?” Peggy teased.
Wally slung his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I’m sure, but I’d be glad to buy you one, compliments of the Highland Games.”
“As delicious as that sounds, I think I’d like to try a bridie,” Peggy countered. “If the puff pastry is made right, it’s hard to beat.”
Ian pointed out a bright yellow food cart with red lettering proclaiming authentic Scottish food. “That one looks promising.” The group gathered around the vendor, reading the menu hanging from the ceiling of the cart.
“What do y’all think about ordering several different dishes, and then everyone can sample them?” asked Annie. “And don’t forget the scones!”
Alice gave a thumbs-up for the idea, and there were nods from the others. Emily ended her nod saying, “Mama, what’s a bridie?”
“It’s a Scottish meat pastry,” answered Peggy. “I think you’ll like it.”
Wally handed Ian the certificate he’d won. “Make sure there are plenty of meat pies to go around.” While Ian ordered and their food was being prepared, the others wandered near the different tents to find a good place to settle down for the meal.
“I vote for this tent,” Alice gestured at a yellow-stripe tent with the sound of Celtic music coming from inside.
Wally paused, listening to the drums driving a lively tune. “Works for me,” he agreed. “I’ll go help Ian with the food. Why don’t you ladies find us a table?”
The ladies of Stony Point agreed and entered the tent as Wally left them. Picnic tables were packed inside with only a small platform in the front for the musicians. Just as they were reconciling themselves to not being able to fit in the crowded tent, a half-table of people got up to leave.
“Now I know how the town folk feel at the diner,” Peggy quipped as she bustled over to the emptied half-table.
“Small triumphs are not to be sneezed at,” said Annie, chuckling. “These are good seats for the music too. We can actually see the musicians play.”
“I’ll wait by the entrance and show the guys where to bring the food,” Alice offered. “It’s jammed in here!” She wove through the tables filled with people in a festive mood. Reaching the edge of the tent, she stood just outside to watch for Ian and Wally.
While Annie, Peggy, and Emily waited for the others to arrive, the band played a final song and announced that a different band would begin a set in ten minutes. “Oh, I hope the next band is as good as this one,” said Peggy. “They had a great sound.” She nudged Annie with her elbow. “None of that classic rock stuff.”
“Not even U2?” Annie joked back.
“Um, Annie, U2 is from Ireland, not Scotland.” Peggy wagged a finger at her friend.
“Oops, good thing Alice wasn’t here,” Annie responded. “She’d have my hide.” Her eyes narrowed. “And how come you knew that when you don’t like classic rock, hmmm?”
Peggy dismissed the tease with a wave of her hand. “Some bands—very few mind you—transcend the classic rock label.”
The next band filed in through a small gap behind the platform and began to set up. Emily’s eyes widened in wonder when she caught sight of the female band member dressed in a gossamer flowing dress of light green and lavender, the golden waves of her hair tumbling down her back.
She whispered to Peggy, “Mom, is she a princess?”
Her mother smiled at her. “I don’t know, Em. Maybe you could ask her when the band finishes their set.”
As the men of the band positioned a keyboard, two different drums, and several different kinds of wind and string instruments on the platform, Alice came through the main entrance with Wally and Ian behind her. All three sets of arms were laden with food and drinks.
Leading the men through the tables, Alice set two drink carriers in front of Annie and Peggy. “It’s a good thing I was watching out for Ian and Wally; the drinks were threatening to slip out of their hands.”
“I’m impressed they made it that far.” Annie laughed. “Y’all bought enough food to feed William Wallace’s entire clan! Is there anything left in the food cart for everyone else?”
“I’m sure there’s still plenty of haggis left,” Wally said as he placed a stack of boxed meat pies and bridies next to the drinks.
“We need to toast Wally’s hurling abilities,” said Ian. “The vendor wouldn’t hear of taking any extra money after seeing the certificate. It covered our entire lunch.” He handed a box of scones to Annie to pass around the group.
Peggy cocked an eyebrow as she pulled two cups of soda out of the carrier, setting one in front of Emily. “These folks sure take their haggis hurling seriously!”
“And that is a good thing,” Annie added as she reached over for a drink. “This is a fine feast. The food smells delicious.” Her eyes roamed over the different boxes of food. “I can’t decide what to try first.”
Alice grinned, standing to bend over the boxes and transfer a bridie and a meat pie to her paper plate with a fork. “Then let your bossy friend decide for you.” She briskly cut each pastry in two and transferred a half to Annie’s plate. “That’ll get you started.”
“If you have any appetite left when you’ve eaten those, try the beef sausage rolls,” Ian suggested after politely wiping his having just taken a bite of one of the juicy sausage rolls. “This is really good.”
Annie stared down at her suddenly laden plate. “LeeAnn will be most appreciative of my friends’ efforts to make sure I don’t waste away from starvation. Now you will have to help me work off all these calories!” She selected the half-moon–shaped meat pie and took a bite. “Mmmmm.”
The volume of chatter inside the tent lowered as the female singer introduced the first song. “We can think of no better way to begin our music than with Ca’ the Yowes, a song written by Scotland’s own Robert Burns.” Behind her, a member of the band raised a flute and began a soft melody. “For those who are not familiar with the song, ‘yowes’ are ewes, female sheep.”
A fiddle and keyboard were added, and the audience seemed to pause from eating and talking, anticipating the entrance of the singer’s voice. It came, pure and delicate yet also strong. The song called to mind hills blanketed with heather and abiding love.
Wally swallowed a bite of meat pie. “Not exactly my kind of music,” he observed, “but the singer has a good set of pipes on her.”
“I think she’s beautiful,” Emily sighed. “I wonder if she likes to dance too.” The girl found it hard to comprehend anyone not loving to dance as much as she. Not able to pull her eyes away from the golden-haired woman, Emily nibbled on a scone.
The band began the second song, Wild Mountain Thyme, the singer’s eyes slowly roaming over the audience from the back to the closer tables.
Annie rested her cheek in her right hand, caught up in the gentle lilting strains of the music and voice. “I wonder what it’s like to be given a voice like hers. How many hours has she practiced over the years to develop her gift?”
“Looks like singing isn’t the only thing she’s been practicing,” Alice muttered under her breath, when the woman began the next song.
Annie turned to look at her friend sitting beside her. “What do you mean?”
“Can’t you tell who she’s singing to? You know, flirting?” Alice jerked her gaze toward Ian.
Annie shook herself out of the near trance the music had put her in and looked between the singer and the man at her left side. Sure enough
, Alice’s observation was sound. While the woman’s gaze had previously been roving from person to person, she was now singing directly to Stony Point’s mayor:
“I will build my love a bower,
By yon clear crystal fountain,
And on it I will pile,
All the flowers of the mountain.
Will you go, lassie, go?”
The song went on, but the eyes of the singer did not. Alice and Annie stole glances at Ian, expecting to see some reaction from him. But the man was deep in conversation with Wally and was not looking toward the platform.
Annie leaned to whisper in Alice’s ear, “Surely she’ll realize he’s not noticing and find some other man to serenade.”
“Was that just a hint of jealousy speaking?” Alice whispered back.
Annie didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Alice gave her a look of understanding and handed her a pack of Scottish shortbread. Giving her friend a wan smile, Annie broke open the shortbread and took a nibble of the buttery sweet.
Toward the end of the song, Ian and Wally concluded their discussion, and Ian returned his attention to the performers. The singer’s smile widened, and her blue eyes wooed the unsuspecting man as she sang:
“If my true love she’ll not come,
Then I’ll surely find another,
To pull wild mountain thyme,
All around the purple heather.
Will you go, lassie, go?”
The face of the man who had spent years in military and political service grew as still as a marble bust. Then he turned his attention away from the musicians once more and focused on Annie, asking her if she was enjoying the shortbread. Annie smiled and offered him a piece. Until the end of the song, the two kept their eyes on each other, as though the singer did not exist.
But Alice and Peggy, intrigued by the boldness of the woman, felt no need to ignore her. They enjoyed the rest of their lunch while keeping track of the performance and the woman’s gaze, which moved over to Annie after a while.
