A Highlander is Coming to Town

by Laura Trentham

  The sunset streaked orange and deep purple across the sky, fooling the eye into thinking it was warmer than it actually was. Holt bit his lip to stop from lecturing her about why she should have let him pick her up. The evening had already headed toward destinations unknown. Getting her hackles up would only send it careening off the rails.

  “Come on in.” He gestured and with a moment’s hesitation, she took a step inside. “Let me take your jacket.”

  She slipped it off, and he hung it on a hook next to the door.

  The tension between Iain and Anna was palpable. Falling back into Southern customs, Holt drew Claire forward with a light touch at the small of her back. “Claire, you remember Iain from the Brown Cow. You probably know Anna Maitland from the festival. She’s Highland’s mayor now and the owner of Maitland Dance Studio.”

  Anna shot Claire a guarded look full of secrets. “We’ve actually crossed paths recently.”

  “How are you?” The question from Claire took on greater weight than what was usually a polite afterthought.

  “I’m—” Anna let her head fall back with a huge sigh. A tear trickled out of the corner of her eye. “—exhausted all the time. Stressed out. Scared.”

  Iain closed the distance between them and took her hands. “Are you having regrets? Do you want me to go back to Scotland? I only want you to be happy. Tell me how to make you happy again.” His desperation was heartrending.

  Anna’s huffing laugh was tear-soaked. “You might be the one who wants to run back to Scotland. Something happened.”

  “Something bad?” Dread drew Iain’s mouth into a tight line.

  Holt was getting more and more uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. Were Anna and Iain going to break up during his first date with Claire? That was fate throwing serious shade.

  “Do you guys maybe want to be alone?” Holt interjected.

  It was Claire who shushed him. Her gaze was stuck on the couple, but a small smile curved her lips. Was she taking delight in watching the unfolding destruction?

  “I don’t know how to tell you this.” Anna looked over at Claire with a helpless expression.

  “Spit it out,” Claire said with a marked encouragement. “The bloke obviously loves you.”

  Iain appeared as confused and left out as Holt felt.

  “Okay, here’s the deal, Highlander.” Anna took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

  Iain rocked back a step as if the news was a physical slap. “How … When … What?”

  Anna tightened her grip on Iain so he couldn’t escape. “I know it’s a shock. Believe me, no one was more shocked than I was. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I decided I’m keeping the baby no matter what. You can stay or go.”

  “Wow.” It wasn’t clear from Iain’s tone if he was excited or panicked or both.

  “If you want to go to the doctor with me, that’d be great. Or if you don’t, then—”

  “Of course I want to go.” A slow smile spread over Iain’s face.

  “You’re not upset?” Anna asked.

  “I’m upset you think I’d be upset. Did you assume I would leave you?” Iain shook his head at her shrug. “Don’t answer that.”

  “What now?” Anna asked.

  “We take things day by day.”

  “Everything is going to change.”

  “Change is inevitable and doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

  Anna collapsed into his arms. Iain didn’t flinch at her weight. Her voice was muffled against his shirt. “I’m sorry we’re ruining your date, Holt.”

  What could Holt do except chuckle? He shot a side-eyed glance toward Claire. “My dates aren’t usually this exciting. It’s setting a standard I can’t live up to.”

  “Is this a date?” Claire’s eyes widened like a spooked horse’s. “I thought I was merely a test subject.”

  “It’s not not a date.” Holt tried on his most charming smile.

  The cloud of awkwardness had shifted from Anna and Iain to him and Claire. To cover his discomfiture, he asked, “How did you girls meet?”

  Anna smiled and rolled her eyes toward Claire. “I made Claire buy a ridiculous number of pregnancy tests at the Drug and Dime for me. I was too embarrassed. Then she stayed with me for moral support while I peed on the stick.”

  Holt studied Claire slyly. For a woman who claimed to be a loner and who didn’t need friends, she was becoming entwined with Highland and its residents at breakneck speed.

  Iain sniffed. “Speaking of ruining your date, something is burning.”

  Holt made a run for the kitchen, jumping over the back of the couch. He opened the oven and actual flames licked out. He flipped the sink faucet on, grabbed the water hose, and pulled the trigger, aiming as best he could at the fire. Unfortunately, the hose only extended so far and water went all over the floor. Enough hit the burning food to send a cloud of gray smoke into the kitchen and trigger the smoke alarm.

  Pulling the bread and the casserole out of the oven, he surveyed the damage. The bread had been a lost cause from the beginning, but now it had turned into a briquette. The cheesy top layer of the casserole was black in places.

  Holt threw the oven mitts aside. “This is what happens when I attempt to impress a woman. Fire and destruction.”

  Claire sidled up next to him, her hand over her mouth.

  “Are you horrified or amused?” Holt asked.

  She dropped her hand and burst into laughter. “This is the most drama-filled date I’ve ever been on, and it’s only been ten minutes.”

  Over the obnoxious beeping of the alarm, he leaned in to ask, “So you’re saying it is a date?”

  Her laugh morphed into a cough.

  “Head to the porch while I clear this out of the cabin.” Holt jerked his head toward the door.

  Iain had opened the front windows and was using the door as a giant fan to move the smoke out. Holt took the bread and the casserole and dumped them at the edge of the woods. A less discriminating raccoon or possum would surely appreciate his effort.

  By the time he’d returned, the alarms had quieted and the smoke had dissipated. His cabin would smell like scorched bread for the foreseeable future, though.

  Claire sat on the top step of the porch, enjoying the waning sunset. Iain and Anna stood next to the rail, their arms around each other, harmony restored. “We’ll head out and let the two of you get on with things, mate,” Iain said sheepishly.

  “Gee thanks.” Holt shook his head but exchanged a brotherly half hug with Iain. Holt put an arm around Anna for a quick squeeze. “Congrats, you two. Sounds like you’re going to have to refurbish a room for a nursery.”

  Panic like a fox set out ahead of a pack of dogs had Iain blinking dumbly.

  “You two have a lot to hash out. Like what you’re going to name the little tyke. I’m thinking Holt if it’s a boy.” Holt winked.

  “What if it’s a lass?” asked Claire.

  “I don’t know. Holt?” He waved Anna and Iain down the porch steps to their respective vehicles. “Have fun figuring things out, y’all!”

  Holt had no doubt that Iain and Anna would work things out. The two of them were made for each other.

  Holt felt only happiness for his friends when he turned to Claire and raised an eyebrow. “Dinner is ruined. Are you up for an adventure?”

  Chapter Eight

  An adventure? Once upon a time, she would never have been able to turn down an offer like that. Especially coming from a man as handsome as Holt. She would have jumped without hesitation, without looking, without worrying about the consequences.

  “Come on, Claire. I burned dinner and unless you want to split a frozen pizza, we’re going to have to go out and grab something. This will be a real authentic Southern experience. Trust me?” Holt’s lopsided smile made her feel like kicking her defenses aside. At least for an evening.

  “Sounds like I don’t have a choice.” She tempered the grudging words by returning his smile.
“I am starving.”

  “Let’s go, then.” He grabbed her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, led her to the passenger side of his truck, and opened the door for her.

  After they were on the road, he tossed several glances in her direction. “What do you think about Iain and Anna?”

  “I hope they’ll be happy together.”

  “I’d put money on them getting hitched by New Year’s. What about you?”

  “Sure. I guess that’s a possibility.” She didn’t know either one of them well enough to predict the outcome.

  “Have you ever been married?”

  It was the sort of personal question that set her on edge. “Why do you want to know?”

  “We did agree this was a date, right?” He didn’t take his gaze off the windscreen. “In case you’re curious, no wives hidden in the storm cellar. What about you? Any husbands in the attic?”

  “I’m not a female version of the dastardly Rochester from Jane Eyre.” Her weak attempt at a joke garnered a twitch of his lips. It felt good to make him smile. She cataloged the risks of answering him, but she couldn’t see the harm. “I’ve never been married. Never even come close. My lifestyle with the Scunners was too transient for anything long-term to develop.”

  “I’ve seen enough behind-the-music documentaries to know dating band members is a given.” While it wasn’t a question, his curiosity was obvious.

  But he was curious because he wanted to get to know her, not because he suspected she was hiding something. Was there any danger of cracking the door just a little? “That’s the truth of it. I dated the pipes player for a bit.”

  “Did it end badly? Is that why you left the band and stayed in Highland?”

  Claire’s mind whirred. It wasn’t the reason. Jamie was a dolt, but an easygoing one who had taken his dumping with a sangfroid she’d attributed to laziness rather than emotional maturity. Claire had been convenient, but he hadn’t loved her. And if she were honest, she hadn’t loved him either.

  On the other hand, a bad breakup was as good an excuse as any to explain why she had quit the band and stayed behind. “Yes, it ended badly. I couldn’t stay with the band any longer. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Of course you don’t. I don’t blame you.” It was only when Holt’s posture changed that Claire realized how tense he’d been. The impish grin he shot in her direction set the atmosphere in the cab at ease. “How do you feel about bingo and barbecue?”

  “I can’t say as I have strong feelings about either.”

  “You will after tonight. The best barbecue in town is Big Eddie’s food truck. He’s usually only open for lunch, but it’s bingo night, which means he’ll be set up in the American Legion parking lot.”

  “We’re going to eat in a parking lot?”

  “Of course not! We’ll go inside and play a couple of cards while we eat. A percentage of the money goes toward a fundraiser for a countywide literacy program.” Holt drove past Main Street on a road Claire had never traveled.

  It was disconcerting to realize how small her world had become since moving in with Ms. Meadows. Uneasiness had her looking around her with suspicion, but nothing unusual dotted the landscape. Fields gave way to a string of two-story middle-class houses, then shops. On the corner of the next intersection stood a large concrete building with an AMERICAN LEGION sign out front.

  Cars and trucks filled the lot and spilled out to line the street in all directions. Holt crossed the intersection and pulled into a half-full gravel lot on the other side of the street. Had the entire town turned out?

  Holt helped her out of the truck, and as they made their way across the street to the parking lot, she tucked the T-shirt she’d bought at the thrift store into her ripped jeans, feeling self-conscious. Despite the cooling evening, knots of people stood around eating off plates piled with food. Woodsmoke laced with delicious scents ringed the air, and her mouth watered.

  Holt put a hand on the small of her back and guided her toward a food truck in the far corner, nodding and exchanging greetings, but not stopping for introductions. She was grateful Holt didn’t offer any fodder to the curious looks.

  A large black smoker pumped out the most delicious smells Claire had ever experienced. A dark-skinned black man in a white apron came around from the back of the truck. “Holt Pierson! You son of a—”

  “Eddie!” an older black woman taking orders called out sharply.

  Eddie grinned “—biscuit. How you been?”

  Holt clapped Eddie on the shoulder. Big Eddie was tall and broad and round. He would have been formidable if he hadn’t had twinkling eyes and an infectious smile.

  “The farm keeps me busy. I tried to make Claire here dinner and nearly burned the cabin down. I’m hoping to make it up to her with a pulled pork sandwich.”

  Big Eddie stripped off one of his gloves, wiped a hand down the front of his apron, and offered it for a shake. “Nice to meet you, Claire. I’m Eddie. I was Holt’s center in high school.”

  “The center of his what?” Claire asked.

  Eddie’s eyes widened before his deep, chesty laugh rolled over her. “I forget sometimes the rest of the world isn’t as football-obsessed as the South.”

  “Claire is from Scotland.”

  “Like Iain and Gareth, eh?” Eddie asked.

  She got the impression he was asking more to be polite than from any pointed interest in her background. “Indeed. It seems Highland calls to us.”

  Eddie pulled on his glove and went back to chopping a steaming pile of meat. “Hey, Ma! Pass down two plates, would you?” To Holt, he said, “Are y’all going to play some cards?”

  “That was the plan.”

  “You’d best watch your back. These ladies are ferocious competitors.” Eddie grinned as he put a portion of meat on each plate and held them out.

  When Holt went to pull out his wallet, Eddie waved him off. “On the house.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Have fun,” Eddie called out as he turned back to his work.

  “That was nice of him.” Claire had never considered herself particularly carnivorous, but her stomach disagreed. She couldn’t wait to dig into the food.

  “He’s the best. We’ve been friends since kindergarten.”

  “How long have you known Anna?”

  “Since before I can remember. We were in Sunday School together at church from before we could walk.” He nodded at a dapper-looking gentleman who opened the door for them.

  The room was lined with tables, and almost every chair was filled. The hum of conversation undercut the occasional yell of a bingo number. Sticking close to Holt, Claire followed him to a table along the back wall and two seats on the end. He set their plates down.

  “Beer or tea?” He thumbed over his shoulder toward a bar that ran the length of the opposite wall.

  A little liquid courage wouldn’t go amiss. “Beer, please.”

  “I’ll be right back. Go ahead and get started before it gets cold.”

  She slid onto the folding chair. Holt weaved his way through the people, a smile on his face as he exchanged greetings and handshakes along the way. Everyone seemed to know him. Not only know him, but like him. Holt was part of the fabric of Highland, woven so tightly he would never unravel.

  An odd wistfulness came over her. The closest she’d ever become to belonging was with the Scunners, and even then she’d not revealed her true self to them. Who knew her? Who liked her? Certainly not her parents on either count. She was a single thread.

  “You shouldn’t let Eddie’s hard work go to waste.” A bony finger poked Claire in the arm.

  Sitting next to Claire, a woman with a tight gray Afro and beautiful dark skin peered at Claire through thick bifocal glasses. She was one of those women whose age was indeterminate from her face, but her sloped posture and knobby knuckles put her past seventy.

  “I was going to wait for Holt to tuck in, but I am famished.” Claire pulled t
he plate closer and picked up the pork sandwich to take a bite. The smoky tender meat was heavenly, and she closed her eyes and hummed in appreciation.

  When she looked over, the woman was smiling. “Eddie has a gift, doesn’t he? He’s my grandson.”

  “The food is amazing.”

  She beamed at Claire, in full approval for her opinion. “Did Holt bring you here on a date?”

  The conversation turn unbalanced Claire, and she hemmed around an answer for too long. “I suppose?”

  “You suppose? Are you interested in Holt or not?” The woman took a bite of a tall whipped-cream-topped piece of pie, but never took her magnified eyes off Claire.

  “Things are … complicated. I’m not from Highland, you see.”

  “Obviously not, but that’s a good thing to my mind. Someone like you would do Holt a world of good.”

  Before Claire could probe for specifics like why her and what sort of good could she do, Holt returned with two bottles of beer and bingo cards tucked under his arm. He stooped to give the old woman a buss on the cheek. “How’re you doing, Ms. Frannie?”

  “Fine, Holt, just fine. Your young lady seems nice, but I must say, you could have picked a more romantic place than the Legion for a date.” Her scolding tone was good-natured.

  “I’m not like Eddie. I tried to cook Claire dinner and ended up setting off the smoke alarm. We had to leave for a while to let the cabin air out.”

  Ms. Frannie laughed and patted Holt’s arm, but aimed her comments toward Claire. “You should hang on to this one.” The woman rose and shuffled away, leaving Claire and Holt as alone as they could be in the room.

  “Everyone sure does like you around here.” She hadn’t meant her assessment to come out dripping with such accusation.

  “Yeah, I can’t explain it either.” He devoured his sandwich and the sides of slaw and macaroni and cheese, finishing before her even though she’d had a head start. “Ms. Frannie’s wise, though. You should do what she says and hang on to me.”