The Husband Maker Boxed Set

by White, Karey

  “What happened?” Flynn asked.

  I shifted so I was sitting cross-legged, facing him. And I told him about Angus. I pulled at a thread on my jeans as I told him about Aleena. I felt the twist begin again in my stomach. I didn’t want to be the cause of pain for her. Flynn reached over and took my hand in his.

  “What are you going to do?”

  I shook my head. “Why didn’t he tell me sooner?”

  “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  I looked up at Flynn’s face. “What do you mean?”

  “Charlotte.” He looked and sounded like he was cajoling an obstinate child. “You obviously love him.”

  “Of course I do. We’ve been friends for years.”

  Flynn cocked his head. “That’s not the kind of love I’m talking about.”

  “I’ve never thought about Angus like that.”

  “Maybe not before he kissed you, but you have since then. That’s why you’re worried about Aleena. And that’s why you’re not going to fall in love with me.”

  I looked at Flynn’s handsome face. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have used you like this.”

  “Aye, but ya should have. Because we’re friends. And because I live here.” He looked out at the water. “And if there’s any place in the world where you can have the room you need to figure things out, this is it.”

  Descending the hill took just as long as climbing it had. The footing was so precarious that one wrong step would send you tumbling down the side of the mountain, so we took slow, careful steps.

  At first we didn’t talk. I was thinking about what Flynn had said. Was I in love with Angus? Had I been for a long time? I thought about what might have happened if I hadn’t played match maker with Aleena and Angus. I wondered if Will was right and they wouldn’t make it. Would that make me happy or sad? And then I wondered what I would do if they did break up. I couldn’t let my mind go there.

  I looked at Flynn who was several steps ahead of me. I wondered what he was thinking. He probably wished he had never invited me to Scotland. Maybe he regretted turning his house over to me. What if he wanted me to go home. Should I offer to leave?

  “Careful right here . . .” Flynn said just as his feet slipped out from under him. His back wasn’t far from the steep hill so he didn’t have far to fall, but he slid several feet before he managed to dig in his heels and come to a stop.

  “Flynn, are you okay?” I hurried toward him.

  “Don’t come too fast,” he said, just as my feet slipped out from under me and I slid right by him. He reached out his hand to stop me but just managed to grasp the hood of my jacket. It didn’t break my fall, but it did pull the jacket right off my arms.

  I could feel rocks digging into my back, but when I rolled onto my side and saw Flynn ten feet above me, holding my empty jacket by the hood, something inside me let go and I started to laugh. I couldn’t stop, and Flynn started laughing as he slid down the hill to me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked through his laughter.

  “I’m not sure. I think my back might be cut up.” And then I snorted and Flynn laughed harder. When I had gained my composure, I asked, “What about you? Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so, but I think . . .” He put his hands between his legs. “Yep, I think I’ve split my breeks.”

  I giggled. “Breeks?”

  “Trousers. Breeks. Pants. It doesn’t matter what you call them. I’ve split mine.”

  We both burst out laughing again. “Dang, my back is really stinging.”

  “Here, let me look.” I turned my back toward Flynn and he carefully lifted up the back of my shirt. “Aye, you’re bleeding a bit.” And then he started laughing again.

  “You’re terrible, laughing at my pain.”

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I know it’s not funny.”

  “Except it is.”

  “We’ve got to stop laughing so we can get off this hill and get your back bandaged.”

  “Okay, no more laughing,” I said, trying to contain myself.

  Flynn managed to get on his feet and I did my best not to look at his pants. When he was standing solidly, he reached down and helped me up. We grinned at each other.

  “Nothing like a near death experience to pull us out of the doldrums,” Flynn said.

  I couldn’t help it. I started laughing again.

  Somehow we made it off that hill, even though we laughed most of the way down. I couldn’t remember when I had laughed so hard. It might have been when I was a child.

  “Let’s go to Mum’s. I don’t know if I have any bandages.”

  “What happened to you two,” Mary said when we walked in the front door.

  “We fell down the hill,” Flynn said.

  “You’re a regular Jack and Jill, aren’t ya?” Mary said, and we both started snickering.

  “Mum, Charlotte’s back needs some bandages,” Flynn said.

  “Come here. Let’s take a look,” Mary said.

  “You should go change your pants,” I said to Flynn.

  “Oh dear, you’ve bled clear through your shirt,” Mary said, and I snort-laughed again.

  That night I couldn’t sleep on my back. It was sore and stinging and I had ruined my shirt. But I felt happier than I had in ages.

  “The secret is using cold fat and not overworking your dough. See this? We want little pieces of cold fat that don’t get kneaded in.”

  Mary had a fork and was putting quick work to the pie crust. “If it’s too dry, add a little cold water, but don’t let the fat melt in the flour.”

  I had spent most of the day at Mary’s learning the art of pie crust. She had also shared her meat pie recipe and soon we would make a butterscotch pudding.

  “Have you always lived in Stornoway?” I asked as Mary watched me roll out the first pie crust.

  “I was born in Carloway, on the other side of the Isle. Calvin swept me off my feet and moved me all the way to Stornoway.” Mary laughed. “And I’ve been here ever since.”

  “It’s beautiful here. I’ve never seen anywhere like it.”

  “Aye, but it is. I still don’t understand how a man can leave it.” I knew she was talking about Bruce. “But I s’pose for some the pull of a woman can be stronger than the pull of the Isle.” It seemed like she was talking to herself so I didn’t interrupt. “But when the woman’s gone, a man should come home.”

  Mary turned away from me and busied herself rinsing out a bowl. “Did you meet my Bruce?”

  “Yes. He was very nice.” Mary nodded. “It must have been hard when he left.”

  “Aye. It still is. But Flynn says he’s made a place for himself and I s’pose I should be proud that a boy from a small place like Stornoway can rise to the top in a place like America.” Mary wiped her eyes on her apron.

  “You should come visit him.”

  “Naw. I’m an old woman. Bruce has come home every year and as long as he does that, I’ll not be going so far away. No, no. Don’t use the scraps again. That’s what makes it tough.” With one hand she brushed the used scraps into her other hand and threw them into a bowl. “For the chickens.”

  When we were finished baking, we cleaned the small kitchen together. “Flynn said you helped him build a fireplace.”

  “Aye, we built it yesterday.” I laughed. “I just said ‘aye’ and I didn’t even mean to.”

  Mary smiled. “The isle is growing on you.”

  “Aye, but it is.” We laughed.

  “Flynn’s a big, strong man. Don’t let him overwork you.”

  “Oh no, he didn’t. I asked him if I could help and he didn’t want me to carry the stones inside, so he taught me how to put in the cement and then build them up.” I laughed again. “I’m probably saying it all wrong. Oh well. We finished the fireplace and it’s beautiful. Want to see?”

  I pulled out my phone and showed her the pictures I had taken when we finished our work.

  “Aye. Very nice.”

  “I can’
t believe I only have three days left.”

  “The time has gone fast. I was afraid you’d grow bored of the Isle. It’s not as exciting as the big city.”

  “This has been just what I needed.”

  On Sunday, we had taken Mary to the services in an old stone church. The pews were terribly uncomfortable and I could hardly understand what the minister was saying, but the music was pretty and Mary dabbed at her eyes as we sang. After church, we made sandwiches and followed the stream to the ocean and back. If Flynn was disappointed that we didn’t have a romantic future together, he hid it well. He was kind and funny and filled the time with stories and games.

  One morning, Mary had driven him to the hardware store so I could use his car and drive around the island. He seemed to sense that I needed some quiet time to learn how to be at peace with my thoughts. It seemed the island was trying to woo me because everywhere I went seemed more beautiful. Twice I waited for sheep to cross the road and both times I got out of the car and spoke to the shepherd.

  I drove to Carloway before I knew Mary had grown up there. I wished I had known what house had been hers.

  I ate by myself at a little restaurant called The Digby Chick. I couldn’t understand the older man who took my order so I pointed at what I wanted on the menu. I ate a giant mushroom stuffed with onions and pears and cranberries. The Isle was not lacking in delicious food.

  “I guess we’re going to the fire tonight,” I said.

  Mary hmphed.

  “Is there a reason for the fire? A celebration or something?”

  “Naw. Just the bairns making mischief. We should get these in the oven so we can eat when Flynn gets home.” I could tell she wanted to change the subject, so I didn’t ask anything else about the fire.

  We could see the fire from the road. The flames were at least as tall as Flynn, and already at least a couple dozen people mingled around the fire.

  Flynn pulled his car off the blacktop and turned it off.

  “They won’t mind an American crashing the party?” I asked.

  “No. You’re not the first American to come,” Flynn said. “Bruce met Kendra here.”

  I stopped. “Is that why your mom didn’t want to talk about it?”

  “Aye. It doesn’t make sense, but she thinks this is to blame.”

  We started walking again, slowly making our way through the darkness to the fire. “Actually, it does make a little sense.”

  “It’s easier to blame something like the fire instead of blaming Bruce.”

  “She’s been so kind to me. I’m glad she doesn’t blame all Americans.”

  A few people were roasting the biggest marshmallows I had ever seen. Some drank beer while others drank sodas. A girl with frizzy, brown hair was playing a guitar and singing.

  “Flynn, haven’t seen you here in a while,” said a man with a toddler on his shoulders.

  “Been busy,” Flynn said.

  “I keep telling Jack we’re getting too old for these,” said a tall blonde walking beside him. “Never thought we’d come to these with our little hen.” She pointed at the little girl on her husband’s shoulders.

  “Jessie thought I should bring my friend, Charlotte, so here we are.”

  I looked around and saw Jessie on the other side of the fire. She waved when she saw us.

  “Flynn, we didn’t have to come to this. I hate to upset your mom, especially if you didn’t really want to come.”

  “Naw, no worries. This is the first time I’ve been this summer. I think Jessie was just using you as an excuse to get us here.” He smiled.

  “I’m glad you could come,” said Jessie when we joined her.

  “You want something to drink?” Flynn asked us.

  “I’ll take a Coke,” Jessie said.

  “That’s fine,” I said and Flynn left.

  “He doesn’t come much anymore,” Jessie said. “I think it upsets his mum.” I nodded. “I’m not sure why I come anymore. Everyone’s getting so much younger.” She laughed.

  “Do you like it here?” I asked.

  “At the fire?” She shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  I followed Jessie’s gaze and saw Flynn standing by the coolers. He was talking to the man with the toddler.

  “I meant here in Stornoway,” I said.

  Jessie laughed and her dimples deepened. “Aye, this is the best place in the world.”

  “You’ve never wanted to move to Glasgow or somewhere else?”

  She shook her head. “I was born right here in Stornoway and I’ll probably die here. My family’s lived here forever.” She turned and looked at me. “Why d’ya ask?”

  “I just wondered. I can see why you’d never want to leave. It’s beautiful.”

  “Aye, it is.”

  I wanted to ask her about Bruce and if she would stay here even if it meant never falling in love again, but I didn’t. I would be leaving soon and it was none of my business.

  “She’s good,” I said, nodding at the girl with the guitar. She was playing a sad song that I didn’t recognize.

  “Aye. But have ya heard Flynn play?”

  “Flynn plays the guitar?”

  “Aye, and he’s good. But when ya ask him, he always says no.”

  “Really? I want to hear this.”

  Jessie laughed. “Good luck. He’s a stubborn one.”

  Suddenly I had an idea. “Let’s have our own fire before I leave. At Flynn’s. You could come and his mom and we can talk him into playing for us.”

  “I’ll come, but I don’t know if he’ll play.”

  “We won’t tell him until we’re all there. Then we’ll have him outnumbered.”

  Jessie giggled. “If anyone can make him do it, it’s probably you.” There was something wistful in Jessie’s voice but I didn’t have time to think about it because Flynn had returned. He sat down beside me and we listened to music and talked. After about an hour, Flynn started to seem restless.

  “I’m a little tired,” I said. “Do you mind if we go soon?”

  “We can go now,” he said.

  “I’ll leave now, too,” said Jessie. “I’ll walk up to the road with you.”

  We were quiet on the ride back to Flynn’s house. The moon was a little larger and bathed the road in so much light, it almost seemed like we didn’t need headlights.

  When Flynn parked the car by his house, I reached for the handle to get out, but paused. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m good.”

  “You seem a little quiet tonight.”

  Flynn sighed. “I don’t like the fire. I’m too old for it. I don’t know why Jessie likes it so much.”

  “Are you sure she does?”

  “She’s always asking me to come. It upsets mum.”

  “And it makes you a little sad, too?”

  Flynn shrugged.

  “You miss him, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Tell me. You’re always making me tell you everything.”

  Flynn smiled. “No I don’t. I tell you what you’re thinking.”

  “Okay, so you want me to tell you what you’re thinking?” I asked, suddenly feeling nervous.

  “Do ya think you can?”

  “I’ll give it a try.” I shifted in my seat so I was facing him. I took a deep breath and started. “Sometimes you miss him so much it hurts. Other times you’re so mad at him for leaving that you want to punch him. You hate that he abandoned you, but you’re a little proud of him for having the guts to move so far away. And sometimes you wish you could follow him, but you won’t because you love it here and you love your mum so you’ll stay and be the responsible son.”

  Flynn wasn’t smiling anymore, and I couldn’t tell how he was feeling.

  “Not bad. Is there more?”

  “Yeah. Sometimes you’re lonely,” I said quietly, “but you’re not sure how to fix it, so you just work hard and stay busy.” I stopped talking and the car was silent for several long seconds before I spo
ke again. “And that’s all I can read.”

  Flynn’s hands were on the steering wheel and he looked out over the fields behind his house. I put my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Flynn.”

  He didn’t pull his arm away, but he reached for the door handle, so I moved my hand, and we got out of the car.

  “It’s pretty warm tonight. Do ya need a fire?”

  “No, I’ll be fine,” I said.

  “So golf tomorrow morning?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “Good night, Charlotte.”

  I took a step toward him. “Flynn?” And then I took two more steps and put my arms around him. At first he just stood there, but then he pulled me close and hugged me tightly. We held each other for a long time and then Flynn stepped away.

  “See ya in the morning.”

  “Stop laughing at me.” I tried to sound stern, but it was hard to blame him for an occasional chuckle at my expense. I’m a terrible golfer. I had tried it a couple of times at home and was so bad I’d sworn I would never play again, but golf was invented in Scotland and it had seemed like a good idea to give it a try.

  We were on the eleventh hole and I was losing badly. If the course hadn’t been so beautiful, I would have suggested we give up and find something else to do, but everywhere I looked was a view worthy of a postcard—green, rolling hills, Stornoway Harbor, and a lovely white clubhouse—so we persevered.

  “I’m sorry. But you do know the object of the game is to get the little white ball in the hole, right?”

  I ignored him and walked to the long grass to look for my ball. I had to be careful where I stepped. We were sharing the course with a herd of sheep. I still wasn’t sure if they were strays and needed to be gathered home or if they were on the course intentionally, but they created an entirely different kind of hazard that I’d never seen before. Instead of sand traps and ponds, we were faced with an additional hazard—sheep droppings. I had already stepped in one pile and didn’t want to step in another.

  “What do I do if I can’t find it?” I asked, after I had searched for my ball for several minutes.

  “You lose.”

  I laughed. “Like that’ll be a surprise. But really, what should I do?”