Doon

by Carey Corp

  A slow, dazzling smile spread across Jamie’s face as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. In words meant only for me, he said, “Verranica, when ye called me out for doubtin’ our Divine Ruler and told me I had to put the people of Doon before my own desires, I knew you were my perfect match, and we were meant to be together. I’m verra sorry that it took me so long to trust what was between us.

  “But, in my heart, ’tis always been you. When I saw ye that first time in my dreams, I felt as if I’d known you all my life. And over these past weeks, I’ve only fallen more in love with you. You challenge me and make me laugh. Just lookin’ at you makes me want to sing.”

  Jamie loves me! I felt the smile in my heart before it reached my face.

  “And if ye need more proof of my intentions”—he reached into his jacket and pulled out a crumpled cream colored square—“open this.”

  It was the envelope from his coronation, containing his choice for queen. My hands shook as I took the rumpled packet. I couldn’t believe he’d been carrying it throughout everything. I flipped it over, and the MacCrae crest, a regal lion’s head, stared back at me from the blue wax seal.

  From the crowd, someone sounding suspiciously like Fergus shouted, “Open it!”

  I glanced at Jamie with a tentative smile, ripped open the flap, and pulled out the folded slip of paper. Written in a bold script was a single word:

  Veronica

  Suppressing a squeal, I lifted my head to see that Jamie’d dropped to one knee before me—again. “Verranica Welling, I love you with all my soul. I will happily be your king, if you will consent to be my love, my wife and my queen for all of our days in Doon and beyond.”

  This time, I didn’t need to think about my answer. “Yes, Jamie. Yes!” I pulled him to his feet and jumped into his arms.

  The responding roar from the people of Doon was so loud, it almost shook the beams of the old church. Suddenly, all the feelings I’d bottled up inside chose that moment to pour out. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” I repeated as I kissed his cheeks, his nose, his dimpled chin, and his perfect mouth.

  His responding laughter, beautiful and deep, warmed me all the way to my toes. As my feet slid back down to the ground, he arched a golden brow and said, “I’ll be expecting this treatment ever’ day for the rest of our lives, ye know.”

  “In your dreams,” I teased.

  He chuckled low and sexy as he took my face in both his hands and kissed me until I knew I’d never be cold again.

  After several earth-shattering moments, whistles and catcalls broke us apart. Stepping off the dais, hand in hand, we made our way toward the people—our people. Somewhere in all the well wishes, hugs, and tears, I became a part of Doon in truth.

  Finally, I’d found the place where I belonged. My destiny.

  EPILOGUE

  Mackenna

  I stowed my intern orientation packet under my folding chair and concentrated on the rhythmic voice of Adrenaline Theatre’s artistic director, Weston Ballard. Butterflies tapped through my stomach, choreographing a frenetic rendition of All That Jazz. We were on the stage, seated in a circle, doing our first icebreaker of the season. Thanks be to Kander and Ebb, the patron saints of Chicago, we were not playing Scene Freeze.

  Chills raced up my spine as I struggled to direct my mind away from the most horrifying night of my life and back to the present. Today was huge—the beginning of everything I ever wanted. Well, not everything. Mostly everything.

  And I could—I would—live with that. It’s not like I had a choice.

  “For the next eight and a half months, this theater will be your home. It will be your privilege, your possibility, and your passion. It will be your sanctuary.”

  I focused on the cadence of Weston’s voice as he strolled among us. The speech no doubt was the same one he delivered each year for incoming interns. But the way he lingered in my space seemed special.

  With precise diction and perfect projection, Wes continued, “Let’s get started with a creative exercise. I want you to envision the most fantastical place imaginable.”

  I drew in a deep breath and held it for two beats. As I exhaled, I relaxed my shoulders and let my mind wander.

  Tendrils of mist, thick and damp, began to roll in from backstage, engulfing the other interns. I stood and turned stage right. The artistic director’s hypnotic voice grew hushed, like a footnote, as the building vanished. The murky outline of a wild forest became discernible through the haze. And directly in front of me, the Brig o’ Doon appeared—beckoning.

  It had to be a dream, except I was wide awake and standing at the mouth of the bridge.

  The mists coalesced to take on a familiar form—one that caused my heart to leap with joy. I hadn’t thought about my imaginary friend, Finn, in ages. He’d appeared that first summer in Alloway, when I was lonely for the company of other kids. Like Peter Pan, he’d filled my childhood with magic and, inevitably, captured my first kiss.

  He looked just as I remembered. His lopsided grin, equal parts smirky and awestruck, promised benign mischief. His large brown eyes sparked with confidence as he raked his fingers through his dark hair to form chaotic peaks.

  Holy Hammerstein! I knew that gesture—it was imprinted on my heart.

  Before my eyes, Finn grew into a tall and broad shouldered boy of eighteen. His dark gaze crackled with expectancy as I drank in the ridiculously gorgeous face of Duncan MacCrae.

  “Come ta me, Mackenna—”

  I listed to one side, and the cold metal of the chair snapped me back to my surroundings as I gripped the edges to keep from sliding off. I was still on the empty stage with the other interns. The mists and bridge were gone. So was Duncan.

  Weston’s speech continued, “Nowhere—not even that place you just went, is better or more real than where you are. The Adrenaline Theatre—this is your calling.”

  He was wrong. I knew what a Calling was—and it was exactly as Vee had described, a waking dream that feels more vibrant and tangible than anything else in life.

  My imaginary friend wasn’t a delusion.

  Duncan Rhys Finnean MacCrae and Finn were one and the same. That familiar, elusive something I’d felt when I was with him made perfect sense now. How could I not have seen it before? The handsome, flirty prince with the easy smile wasn’t a fling—he was my destiny.

  Not only was I crazy in love with him, but I suspected he’d been appearing to me—Calling to me—since I was six years old. And in the end, I’d betrayed him … broken my promise and his heart. The monumental weight of my mistake paralyzed me like the gravity of a foreign planet.

  Now that I’d let him go, would either of us ever get to live happily ever after?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  We would like to thank all the people who’ve shared this journey: rooting us on, picking us up, and sharing in our triumph. You are the Destined, and we could not have done this without you!

  Extra special thanks to:

  Nicole Resciniti, who loved this project enough to want to represent it—twice. And who worked tirelessly to make the dream a reality. You are a godsend!

  Jacque Alberta, editor extraordinaire, for loving this story enough to want to share it with the world. Sara Merritt, marketing maven, and the devoted people at Blink for making it happen.

  Melissa Landers, our not-so-silent third partner, for your hours and hours of labor on this project, for being Switzerland, and for being so much more that a crit partner.

  The DARING HonestlyYA Crew—Jenn Stark (writing as Jennifer McGowan), Kristi Cook, Kim MacCarron, Jen McAndrews, Lea Nolan, Mari Bates, and Pintip Dunn.

  Mike Heath and Magnus Creative, for our gorgeously epic cover.

  The guys of Combatants Keep, for repeatedly demonstrating that pivotal medieval sword-fighting sequence Jamie and Duncan play out in the tournament scene.

  Ashley Klaserner, Daria King, Dinah Luneke, Jennifer Heisey, Noël Albers, Mary Plye, Angie Grogean, Kathryn Miller, Zoe
Jordan, Sienna Condy, Malin Coughlin, and Lucy Briand for being early readers and for loving this story.

  Our village—Mindy McGinnis, Liz Coley, Julie Cross, Mark Perini, Amanda Brice, Jessica Lemmon, Tina Ferraro, Cinda Williams Chima, Linda Keller, Tonya Kappes, the fabulous women of OVRWA (past and present), and our Seymour Agency sibs. Your support and faith in us is truly humbling!

  Carey would like to personally thank:

  God—first, last, and always—for giving me a life more abundantly and richly blessed than anything I could ever conceive of.

  My family—Michelle, Tori, Jessie, Mary, Dylan, Sean, Beth, Mark, Jamie, Ty, Gram, Dad, Shey, Jani, Josie, and Mom. My undying gratitude to each and every one of you for enabling me to pursue my dream. I love you like crazy!

  Harrison, Athena, and above all else Aaron—for taking up the mantle of my dream with willing hearts. For sacrificing more than you should. Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must’ve done something very good to deserve you.

  Lorie Langdon, my first crit partner, constant spiritual supporter, the best cowriter in the universe, and the other half of my brain—I’m still amazed you don’t throat punch me after some of our revision sessions. Thank you seems inadequate.

  My MargaRITAs, and my AMAZING crit patners—Jenn Stark, Kristi Cook, Kim MacCarron, Jen McAndrews, Erica O’Rourke, Vanessa Barneveld, Shea Berkley, and Shelley Coriell. I couldn’t ask for better “go-to” girls and thank God for bringing us together. I can’t wait until we can all say, “I knew her when.”

  Brianna Ahearn for her valuable insight, and enthusiasm. I’m so glad you’re on the journey with us.

  Meredith Briski, a dear friend, early reader, and someone wise in all ways of things YA, who had a vision for Kenna’s own book long before the rest of us.

  My personal cheer squad: Melissa Dietrich, Kevin Stout, Gina Dierig, Erin Kotch, Angela Combs, Margaret Szemprech, Carol Wade, Lorie Jones, Debbie Burress, Amy Maier, Susan Campbell, Dave King, Roger Cady, Denice Bachmann, Holly Snider, Don Overton, Bob Luderman, and Claudia Liff.

  Lastly, those I have likely overlooked in my haste to meet my editor’s deadline. I’m so sorry. Email me and I’ll make it right in book two!

  Lorie would like to personally thank:

  My Savior King, my Dream Giver, my Protector, Jesus Christ—the One who makes all things possible.

  Tom Moeggenberg for being my real-life hero, the one who lifts me up when I fall.

  My boys—Ben and Alex—for never doubting that their mom would be a published author, and for repeatedly asking if they could be in the movie. Love you guys!

  Mom, for inspiring me to dream BIG dreams, for instilling in me the love of writing, and for believing in me even when I don’t believe in myself.

  Leon Jennings for being my prayer warrior, wise mentor, and the best grandpa in the universe. I can almost feel the warmth of your smile shining down on me.

  My family—Dad, Brian, Toby and Jerry, Tracy, Grandma Darlene, Aunt Sue and Uncle Adrian, Aunt Barbara and Uncle Harold, Aunt Deb, Angie, Pam, and Katie. Thank you for your enduring encouragement and support.

  Aunt Gaye and Uncle Floyd, for introducing me to travel and culture, and, best of all, to the magical world of Brigadoon!

  The girls who keep me sane—Kelly Moeggenberg, Laurie Pezzot, and Tricia Lacey. Thank you for your prayers, for making me laugh, and for occasionally forcing me to get out of my writing cave to enjoy life.

  JR Forasteros for pulling me out of my darkest moment by making me face my greatest fear.

  And of course Carey Corp, who helps me to see the world in a whole new light, pushes me to be a better writer, and lets me crash on her couch when I need a safe place to land. I wouldn’t want to be on this miraculous journey with anyone but you.

  ZONDERVAN

  BLINK

  Doon

  Copyright © 2013 by Carey Corp and Lorie Moeggenberg

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  EPub Edition © JULY 2013 ISBN: 9780310742326

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Blink, 5300 Patterson Ave SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

  Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by the publisher, nor does the publisher vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  BLINK™ is a trademark of The Zondervan Corporation.

  Thank you to the Alan Jay Lerner Estate and the Frederick Loewe Foundation for use of the Brigadoon premise.

  Cover design and photography: Mike Heath/Magnus Creative

  Cover direction: Cindy Davis

  Interior composition: Greg Johnson/Textbook Perfect

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