Lost in Scotland

by Hilaria Alexander

  For a while, I worried that one of our parents had cheated on the other. Even though my father was truly in love with my mom, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have cheated on her. I suspected my mother, too, and even followed her a couple times, but I didn’t find anything out. When I tried to talk to her, she simply said that she had fallen out of love with my dad and that instead of making the rest of his life miserable, she wanted to give him the chance to find love again. I thought my father appreciated her candor, but he was still crushed, and for years, he never seriously dated another woman, hoping my mother would eventually come around.

  But she didn’t. Around the time of her separation, she had become more closed off toward me. I remembered noticing how weird it was, and since I was eighteen, I took it personally. I was upset. I didn’t understand why my mother was trying to shut me out when growing up, she had been my best friend.

  I asked her so many times to tell me what was going on. I didn’t understand why she was taking the divorce so hard when it had been her decision in the first place.

  A couple years after the divorce was finalized, my mother confessed to me the real reason she had divorced my father: she had fallen in love with a woman, a coworker of hers.

  Initially, she had tried to dismiss her feelings as a crush. She never intended to leave my dad, but no matter how hard she tried to fight her feelings, they wouldn’t go away. She assured me that nothing happened between them while she was still married, but her feelings for this woman had become so strong, they made her question her sexuality. She felt guilty, and she thought it was unfair to her husband. She cared for him and wanted him to live a good life. Even after the divorce was finalized, Kathleen Farouk, née Smith, still wasn’t at peace with herself.

  She told me she was seeing a therapist, and it was slowly helping her come to terms with who she was. On a sunny afternoon in Venice Beach, my mother confessed to me that she was bisexual and that she had recently figured out that she had been for most of her life. She had suppressed her feelings and her nature for a long time, for fear of being judged.

  I was proud of her and sad that she’d had to keep it to herself for so long, sad that she couldn’t truly be herself. It had to be a terrible feeling to live with such a secret, a horrible thing to feel trapped in your own skin, to live your life feeling like you needed to hide your true nature from everyone you love.

  My heart ached for her and for everyone who had to go through that in life. I’d always been of the opinion that everyone should be able to love whomever they decided to love without having to hide it.

  Amira and I were extremely supportive of my mother. Rob was just a teenager and was a bit confused, struggling so much with his feelings that for a while he moved in with our dad. As much as it hurt my mother at the time, it ended up being just what she needed. Amira and I were out of the house, and with Rob living with Dad, she could focus on herself and figure out what she wanted. A few months later, we welcomed her girlfriend, Christina, into our family. Eventually, Rob came around.

  My father moved on and married someone else, Rita, a woman he’d met through work who had also recently gotten divorced.

  I wondered why I was giving so much thought to my family; maybe it was because I felt like I was starting over, just like my parents had not that long ago.

  I started climbing the mountain again, wanting to get a little higher this time.

  I noticed a piece of sparkly granite stone and grabbed it. I cleaned the soil off and felt it in my hand, admiring how shiny it was.

  The rock was green with variegated white stripes and a certain shine that I knew came from the crystals present in granite. Oh, the random things you remember from school. I looked at the steep hill in front of me, then checked the time. It was barely six forty-five, and the sun was just now coming up. I felt wide-awake, and I hadn’t even had any coffee before heading out. Even so, I knew I was probably going to get sleepy again later during the day. Jet lag sucked.

  I kept putting one foot in front of the other, trying to be careful. I was still getting used to the altitude since it was so much higher than what I was used to in LA, and it basically took no time at all for me to feel out of breath.

  I heard some noises and spotted someone climbing up, getting closer and closer.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  I turned around and looked down at the man climbing up the hill.

  It was hard to see his face because it was partially covered with the hood of his jacket, but I recognized him.

  “Hugh MacLeod,” I said out loud, and his eyes shot up and met mine, wide and alarmed. As he kept staring at me, I realized what I had just done, and I wished I could just dig under the rocks and make my own resting place right there, right then.

  I had said his name out loud, as if I knew him. Could I be any stupider? It was one of the dumbest things I had ever done. I didn’t think I had ever embarrassed myself like that in high school nor any time in all my years in Hollywood.

  “Do I know ye?” he asked in a deep voice laced with a beautiful Scottish accent. As he climbed closer to me, his eyes studied my face. “Have we met?” he inquired when I didn’t answer. I felt tongue-tied. Snap out of it, idiot.

  “Y-yes…no…I mean—” Good grief. Get it together, Sam.

  “We’ve met. Here. On this hill…right? The other day?” he asked, his brows furrowed. By the look in his eyes, I knew he remembered me. I nodded, still unable to say anything. “You were FaceTiming with your mum.” My face fell. Great, he remembers that.

  “Um, yes,” I said, looking down to avoid his unsettling blue eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I…I just didn’t recognize you the other day.” He gave me a quizzical look. “I’m not a weirdo, I swear. I’m one of the makeup artists. I’m here to work on Abarath,” I explained.

  “You’re not a weirdo?” A wide smile stretched across his face, and he pulled his hood down.

  “You know what I mean,” I explained, closing my eyes in embarrassment. He laughed, the sound warm and hearty. Apparently, being a goof was a good way to break the ice. The sun rose behind me and suddenly everything around us was colored in a soft orange glow, making the color of his hair look closer to copper than the brown I had seen in his pictures. He wasn’t wearing a hat today, and his hair fell on his forehead. It was just slightly wavy on top with soft curls around his ears and neck.

  “What’s your name? I don’t think we met the other night at the party.”

  “No, we didn’t meet. I had just gotten in town that night, so I missed the party.” I stretched out my hand and shook his. He held it and smiled at me, his gaze warm, friendly. I finally started feeling a little more at ease, although I couldn’t quite hold the intensity of his eyes. They were studying me. I felt them everywhere, and somehow, I wasn’t even a little bit upset about that. Heck, I had been the one checking out his butt the other day.

  He looked at me, still holding my hand, and I realized I still hadn’t told him my name.

  “Sam,” I replied. “I’m Sam Farouk.”

  “Ye don’t seem to have either a British or a Scottish accent. Where are ye from, Sam?” he asked, eyebrows pulled together, the corners of his lips curled up.

  I pressed my lips together. “Los Angeles, California.”

  “Really? That’s a long way from here,” he said with a mix of surprise and excitement.

  “It sure is,” I replied with a smile.

  “And what are you doing up here this early in the morning?”

  “Turning my stupid jet lag into a workout, I suppose.”

  “I’m going a little bit farther,” he said, pointing up. “Would you like to join me?” His accent sounded heavier on the last two words, and I smiled. He responded with a smile of his own, and his eyes, dark and questioning a moment before, turned bright and inviting.

  How could I say no?

  “I would love to,” I replied.

  Sam

  “I’m sorry I didn’t reco
gnize you the other day,” I said, trying to catch my breath.

  We had been climbing up for just a couple of minutes, but I felt the need to fill the silence. I knew he was the star of the show, and I needed to address that. Some actors lost their goddamned mind if you didn’t recognize them or if you didn’t rain showers of compliments on them. Others were cool and humble.

  I didn’t know which category Hugh MacLeod belonged to yet.

  He gave me a look and then smirked, making me feel more at ease.

  “Why should you be able to recognize me? I’m not famous,” he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

  “Yet,” I corrected him.

  “Yet,” he replied with a nod, his lips in a tight line. He had a bit of scruff that framed his pink, full lips so perfectly. Now that the sun was up, I could see his hair was indeed a light brown with red highlights, and his scruff was about the same color with a bit of red and gold in it.

  “You know, usually I’m better prepared when I start working on a new project. It’s just that this gig was very last minute, and I barely had time to get my shit in order before flying out here,” I confessed. Wow, Sam, forming full sentences—way to go.

  After talking to Cecilia the night before, I’d finally looked him up and checked his IMDB page. Hugh MacLeod had been in a few things here and there, some UK movies, some minor roles in some US indies, but this was the very first big thing he’d been cast in.

  I found an article that said how many other actors he’d beaten for the role, and the showrunner, Nora Peters, was quoted saying how perfect he was for the part.

  I had yet to finish the first book in the series, but it was true that he matched the description of the main hero to a T.

  Abarath was tall and muscular, with light brown hair and icy blue eyes, a mix of Braveheart and Beowulf—and way more handsome than Mel Gibson in his prime, if you asked me. Abarath was a warrior and dragon slayer in a fantastic version of Scotland circa 1345. He was born a sickly child, but his mother’s prayers to the Celtic gods granted him health and the strength of Hercules. He was also a ladies’ man when he wasn’t busy protecting Scotland from evil dragons. At the point I had gotten to in the story—which wasn’t all that far—he had three different love interests. Quite the Casanova, indeed. When I checked the IMDB page for the show, I saw that the actresses they had cast as his love interests very much resembled the book characters, on top of being exceptionally beautiful women.

  The story was long and intricate, and apparently, the author of the series was set to release three more books. If the show worked out, Hugh MacLeod was going to be busy for the next few years and would be making the big bucks.

  “There seems to be a lot of hype about the show,” I said, glancing his way to see his reaction. His lips pressed in a tight smile, and he gave me a curt nod—not the reaction I was expecting. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, you didn’t,” he tried to reassure me, but I wasn’t buying it. I cocked one eyebrow, giving him a look.

  He let out a deep breath. “You didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just…it’s just that a lot of times it’s not a good thing when there’s too much hype, whether it’s a book, a show, or a movie. A lot of times, when there’s too much hype, there’s too much pressure to deliver, and it becomes hard to focus on what’s important. People forget it’s about the story, versus making a lot of money. The true meaning of everything gets washed out.”

  I looked at him and frowned. I could see where he was coming from, but it was surprising to see this reaction. I had never seen an actor not excited about his new gig turning into a huge deal.

  “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am happy. It’s just…Abarath is a great story. I’m just worried that all the publicity, all the hype will take away from the story a bit. I don’t want that to happen. I want this to be for the fans and to be done right, rather than becoming some phenomenon with very little substance. I want the story to be told the way it should be. Fortunately, I think Nora is the right person to accomplish something so…big.”

  He was right. Nora Peters was a badass, one of the few successful showrunners on TV. She’d had a couple good runs on HBO, and now she had a fantastic deal with the Constz (short for Constellations) channel.

  I tried to keep up with his pace, but he was too fast for me. On top of that, we had been talking, so I was even more out of breath than usual. I put my foot forward, trying to keep up with him, but I miscalculated and almost slipped. Hugh quickly turned around and grabbed my hand, preventing my fall.

  “Thank you,” I exhaled. His hand was warm, the skin a little rugged, and I loved the way it felt.

  “What brings you to Scotland, Sam?” he asked, turning to look at me.

  “Um, work?”

  He laughed and bit his bottom lip. “I mean, why here? You were working in LA before?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “TV or movies?”

  “I was working on a TV series.”

  “And the show you were working for…did it get cancelled?” Yes, but that isn’t the reason I don’t have a job anymore.

  “Sort of…yeah.” I could feel his eyes on me, and when I met his gaze, he gave me a strange look. “Ultimately, that’s what happened.”

  “You don’t talk much, do you?” he teased.

  “I’m not an actor,” I joked. “I’m not used to hearing myself talk.”

  “Har har.” He smiled, still holding my hand, helping me up.

  “You know, this is another level of hiking for me. I thought I was a hiker—back in LA, I mean—but I was damn wrong. Going on strolls in the canyons around LA can hardly be called hiking.”

  He paused and exhaled, making me realize it wasn’t quite as easy for him as he made it look. “This is definitely a different level of hiking. As a matter of fact, I’m out of shape myself.”

  “Out of shape? I don’t think so,” I said, giving him a once-over then immediately wishing I could take it back. Was I flirting or just being terribly blunt? I glanced his way, and he smiled at me. His eyes fell to my lips, and I realized how surreal this whole thing was. We were two strangers climbing up a hill, hand in hand, and somehow, I didn’t feel uncomfortable, not a bit. I felt safe with him, and if I could have suppressed the jolt of electricity running through my body when he looked at me, I could have almost sworn that Hugh MacLeod and I were going to be great friends. There was an easygoing quality about him; I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but I had a feeling. The alarm on my phone rang, and when I grabbed my cell to turn it off, I realized I would have to tell him good-bye soon, and I didn’t want to. It was such an odd feeling. I wanted to stay and talk to him at least a little longer.

  He was still holding my hand, but I stopped climbing and disengaged myself from him—reluctantly.

  “What is it?”

  “I need to start heading down soon. I have all kinds of stuff lined up for today. I probably should have realized I wasn’t going to have enough time for the whole hike this morning, but I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. My first meeting is at nine, I believe.” I felt his eyes on me and caught him staring. What was he looking at? I had no makeup on, and I had hardly brushed my hair. I probably looked like crap. “Don’t you have some training session to attend, too?” I asked him, squinting my eyes now that the sun was so much brighter.

  He smirked. “I do,” he replied, and even the way he said one-syllable words did things to me. “But I think ye should go a bit farther up with me.”

  “Why? Is there something I should see?” I frowned. What was up this hill and why did Hugh think I needed to see it? He didn’t elaborate, just nodded with a tight-lipped smile in place. His eyes were so beautiful, almost the shade of quartz. His face looked as if it had been carved out of marble, and his cheekbones were simply too perfect. His nose, his chin…hell, his entire face was. I told myself to look away and not stare. He stretched out his hand and I took it, as if it was the most natural thing in the world,
and we started hiking again.

  “So, you really won’t tell me why you’re here for work? I’m sure you had your pick of jobs to choose from back in LA.” His smile was tempting, inviting. Maybe I should have just told him the whole truth. After all, we were going to be working together for the next several months. But, it was a long story, and unless people looked up my name and found out what happened, I usually preferred to give the CliffsNotes version.

  I sighed and bit my lip, debating if I should tell him or not.

  “What?” He laughed. “Is that such a loaded question?” he asked, his Scottish accent thicker out of the blue.

  I hated to say his name this early in the morning, let alone think about him at all, but I also didn’t want to come across as snotty. I took a deep breath and let it all out.

  “My boyfriend of seven years cheated on me with his coworker, who also happened to be my boss.”

  I noticed his eyes widen in shock, and he inhaled a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, his eyebrows pulled into a frown. I expected more questions from him, but he didn’t press me. Instead, we climbed our way up in silence, and even though I had just revealed something about myself I didn’t like to get into, I didn’t feel uncomfortable about it. I could feel his eyes on me, and as we walked closer, I became aware of other details I liked about him—his scent, for example. It was clean and musky, and I felt surrounded by it.

  “So, this is your chance to start fresh, aye?” he asked, giving my hand a small squeeze.

  “Aye,” I replied, mimicking his tone, and we exchanged smiles. “I am. I’m starting over.” He cocked one eyebrow, trying to get my attention, and I frowned.

  “Look to your left.”

  I turned around and saw the sun was up high in the sky, shining all over the valley. I believed in Scotland it was called a glen. There was a line of huge, beautiful mountains in the distance, but that wasn’t what made the view unique. The entire valley and the surrounding smaller mountains were covered in lilac flowers.