Saying Goodbye, Part Two (Passports and Promises Book 1)

by Abigail Drake

  I smiled at the memory. My mom, the kindergarten teacher, had a happy, motivational song for every occasion. “And bring them back out on a bright, sunny day.”

  “It’ll all seem better in the morning, dearest. I promise. And if I hear anything from the Hunters, anything at all, I’ll call you right away.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Now get some rest and have a wonderful time in Tokyo. And Sam, if that Scottish boy puts on a kilt, I want a picture.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t see that happening, but sure.”

  I hung up the phone and walked over to the window, staring out at the vast, sparkling city in front of me. Neon lights blinked and taxis maneuvered through the dark streets. It was late, but the city seemed so vibrantly alive. I touched my forehead to the cool glass of the window, soaking up the moment and the pure emotion of finally being here.

  I’d dreamed of coming to Japan for so long, and my mom was right. I couldn’t do anything for Dylan right now, but if I wasted this experience I’d regret it forever.

  Suddenly, exhaustion hit me. I left the curtains open and curled up in my comfortable bed. The lights of a nearby pachinko parlor blinked on and off, casting a rainbow of colors on the ceiling of my room, but it didn’t disturb me. The night sounds of Tokyo felt like a lullaby to my ears. I fell asleep almost instantly, a smile playing on my lips. I’d finally made it here. This was actually happening.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The next morning, we had a breakfast orientation with a bunch of other students in a large conference room. The orientation had been organized for students going to universities in many different parts of Japan, a big group, but as soon as I walked into the room, I saw Thomas MacGregor. He stood at least a head taller than anyone else, and his nametag said Ritsumeikan on it, too. Of course. It figured that out of all the schools in Japan, he would end up at mine. He made a beeline to where I stood.

  “Uh-oh,” said Hana. “Here comes trouble.”

  I turned my back to him, pretending I hadn’t seen him, suddenly very interested in a blank spot on the wall. I felt him behind me before he even spoke. He took up so much space with his gigantic body he seemed to change the very atmosphere with his presence. He cleared his throat. I ignored him. He tried it again. I shot him a look over my shoulder.

  “What?”

  “Either that wallpaper is very interesting, or you’re a bit upset with me, Samantha Barnes.”

  The way he said “very” came out as “verra.” Normally, I would have found it adorable. Today, not so much.

  “Why would I be upset with you?”

  His wild mane of hair had been combed into submission and his clothes looked clean and tidy, quite a difference from the night before. Hana stood next to me, sipping orange juice and watching our interaction with interest. Thomas shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his cheeks turning pink.

  “I came over to apologize to the both of you. I understand I didn’t behave very appropriately last evening.”

  Hana narrowed her eyes. “Sam is the one who deserves an apology. I was just an innocent bystander. You didn’t call me names.”

  Thomas looked mortified as his blue eyes met mine. “I called you names?”

  The cadence of his voice mesmerized me, the sound making me think of windswept Scottish hills covered in heather. His words came out like “Aye culled yu nems?” Trying hard not to focus on the music of his accent, I kept my expression stern.

  “Yes, you did.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “I honestly can’t remember. What did I call you?”

  I pretended to think about it. “I believe you said I was prickly.”

  Hana nodded, trying not to laugh. “You called her a thistle.”

  The look of relief on his face was almost comical. “That’s all?”

  “Yes. And I called you a Scottish ox, so I guess we’re even.”

  He grinned, the effect lighting up his face. “Well, that’s the truth. I am a great Scottish ox, so I deserved the insult.”

  “Okay then.”

  I turned away, pretending to be intrigued by the assortment of pastries on the table behind us. Hana went to get plates and napkins. Thomas leaned closer.

  “I have to tell you the truth. I hate to fly. I took a motion sickness tablet before we took off from Edinburgh, and accidentally doubled the dosage.”

  “Uh-oh.” I kept my eyes trained on the sweet rolls, trying to ignore his nearness. I actually felt the heat radiating from his body.

  “And it did not combine well with the drinks I had when we arrived at the hotel. I was a wee bit out of my mind. I honestly cannot remember much from last evening.”

  I finally turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “So you weren’t a drunken Scottish ox, you were a drugged Scottish ox?”

  He laughed. “Precisely.”

  Hana handed me a plate and I gave him a tight, little smile. “As I said before, it’s fine. Goodbye.”

  I grabbed the first pastry I saw, and sat down at a table as far away as possible from Thomas MacGregor. Hana sat next to me.

  “He’s pretty hot.”

  “I noticed.” I took a bite of pastry, a cheese Danish. I’d gotten lucky. Cheese Danishes were my favorite.

  “He’s pretty interested, too.”

  Thomas sat with his friends. They seemed like a fun group, and got lots of attention from the women in the room. He caught me ogling him and gave me a slow, sexy smile. I scowled and went back to eating my Danish.

  “But I’m not, and I never will be.”

  Hana knew all about Dylan, so she didn’t seem surprised. “It’s too soon right now, Sam, but never say never. Give yourself some time. Maybe later, you’ll be willing to give him a chance.”

  I shook my head. “I won’t. Even if it weren’t for the fact I’m here only to study, even if it weren’t for…the other stuff, I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I don’t want a boyfriend or a hook up. I don’t want to have someone I’m ‘talking’ with. I don’t want anything. I just want to be by myself, unhindered, for the first time in a long time. Do you know I’ve had a boyfriend constantly since the sixth grade? I’m like a serial dater. It’s pathetic.”

  “Boyfriends can be habit forming. Having that kind of attention is nice.”

  “It’s addictive. I’m an addict. And I think it’s time to check myself into rehab. Japan is my rehab, Hana. My time to be alone and figure things out.”

  “So you’re swearing off men?”

  I took a long sip of coffee. “It’s the right thing to do. I just know it.”

  “Okay, then, but can I give you some advice?” I nodded, and she continued. “Stay far away from Thomas MacGregor. That man is like crack to a boyfriend addict. He’d be awfully hard to resist.”

  At that moment, he threw back his head and laughed at something one of his friends had said, the deep, throaty sound sending shivers across my skin, and I knew Hana was right. Thomas was dangerous, and I needed to avoid him at all cost.

  The only problem turned out to be Thomas himself. He didn’t try to speak to me again, but sat near me at every workshop throughout the day. The first time he did it, he gave me a look, challenging me to get up and move. I didn’t, and he acted like he’d won a small victory. After that, I just tried to ignore him, but it was awfully hard to ignore a giant, loud Scottish shadow. When he sat at the table right next to ours at dinner, I groaned, and when we decided to go out to a bar with a group of Ritsumeikan students afterwards, he joined the group, along with his rugby friends.

  I maintained my distance as best I could, but found myself drawn to him. I stayed on the perimeter of the group, but laughed along as he told stories and joked with his friends. I barely sipped my beer, knowing alcohol would not aid in my struggle to stay away from Thomas. I’d always been an affectionate drunk, and a few beers would be all the incentive I needed to get close to him, to climb on his lap and run my fingers through his ridiculous
hair. I gave myself an internal shake. If this was where my mind was going, it meant trouble.

  When Hana and I got up to dance, I felt his eyes follow me. I wore a black mini-skirt with heels and a soft, gray blouse. The heels made me taller than all the girls and even most of the guys in the room, but not Thomas. He still towered over me.

  When the music slowed, he got up and walked toward me. I immediately darted to the ladies room in a panic and stayed there until the music picked up again. I did it every time there was a slow song. As I exited after my third stint in the restroom, Thomas waited for me.

  “Either you have a problem with your bladder, or you’re trying to avoid dancing with me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “Prove it.” He reached for my hand and led me onto the dance floor. I wanted to dig in my heels and refuse, but pride wouldn’t let me do it. I lifted my chin and met his gaze.

  “Why are you so pushy?”

  He shrugged. “I see no harm in wanting to dance with a pretty girl.”

  “You don’t look like the dancing type.”

  His eye twinkled. “Well, Miss Barnes, I think I’m going to have to prove you wrong.”

  The way he said “Miss Barnes” was so like Dylan it almost physically hurt. I stumbled and he steadied me with his hand on my elbow.

  “No worries, Nervous Nelly,” he said, mistaking my reaction. “You’re going to be fine.”

  He requested a song from the DJ, a big band number, and swung me around the floor in his strong arms, making it look effortless. I had no clue what to do, but soon I let go and just had fun with it.

  Thomas directed me with his hands and his body, leading me around the room, humming along to the music. For someone so big, his movements were elegant. Graceful. He was good. He actually made me look good, too.

  A crowd assembled around us, cheering us on. I got into it, wiggling my hips as I danced and squealing when Thomas lifted me into the air. Everyone clapped when the song finished. He led me back to our table, both of us a little out of breath and laughing.

  “How do you know how to dance like that?” I asked as we sat down.

  “My grandmum. She made me do it. I took ballroom dancing lessons for years.”

  “That was actually…fun.”

  He put his arm around my chair and leaned closer. “I’m not that bad when you get to know me, in spite of your first impression.”

  I swallowed hard. “Well, thanks for the dance.”

  I got up to leave and he followed me. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “Back to the hotel. I’m tired. Jet lag and all that.”

  My eyes scanned the room for Hana. She sat with a bunch of students, talking and drinking. She didn’t look ready to leave yet, but I couldn’t stay any longer. Dancing with Thomas had put me in the danger zone. I needed to get away.

  “Tell Hana I’m walking you home,” said Thomas.

  “There’s no need…” I began, but he waved away my protests.

  “You said you wanted to leave. She obviously isn’t ready to go. I’m not letting you walk through the streets of Tokyo alone.”

  I raised one eyebrow at that. “You’re not letting me?”

  “Aye. I’m a stubborn Scottish ox, and I won’t discuss it further. Let Hana know, and get your coat.”

  I glared at him, but we both knew I’d backed myself into a corner. When we stepped outside, the chill in the air made me tie the belt of my black wool coat tighter around my waist. Thomas, still in his short-sleeved shirt, seemed impervious to the cold.

  “Where is your coat?” I asked.

  Although warmer than back home, the January wind in Tokyo still pierced me with its icy claws, making me shiver.

  He gave me a rather arrogant look. “I’m from Scotland, lass. Tis like a warm spring day to me.”

  “Which part of Scotland are you from?”

  “Edinburgh, but I go to university at St. Andrews. I technically had enough credits to graduate fall semester, which we call Martinmas, but I decided to wait so I could come here.”

  “Martinmas? That’s adorable. What do you call winter semester?”

  “Candlemas.”

  “Even cuter.”

  The hotel lights shone in front of us. We had only a few blocks left to walk. In spite of the late hour, the crowds surprised me. For a weeknight, an awful lot of people hurried along the sidewalk.

  We got some curious glances, even though I’d read people in Tokyo had grown accustomed to foreigners, far more than in other parts of Japan. I heard a few whispers of gaijin da (foreigners) and sei ga takai (tall). I would have thought they just spoke about Thomas’ height, but compared to the average Japanese women, I looked like a giantess. A virtual Amazon.

  “What do you want to do after you graduate?”

  “I plan to do my post graduate studies in the States next year in linguistics. I’d like to be a translator.”

  I came to a dead stop. “Really?”

  “Aye.”

  I started walking again. “That’s why I’m here. To get into my school’s Translation Studies Program, at the Institute of Applied Linguistics.”

  He looked at me in surprise. “The Institute of Applied Linguistics? It’s on my short list of schools. I should hear back from them by next month.”

  I ducked my head. “Wow. Small world.”

  He nudged me with his elbow. “It looks like we have more in common than you might have realized.”

  “Do you speak Japanese?”

  “A bit.”

  “Do you know any other languages?”

  “I learned to speak Gaelic growing up, and I’m fluent in Chinese.”

  “No way.”

  He grinned. “Yes way. We lived in Shanghai for a while when I was a lad. I picked it up then. I’ve always been interested in languages. I feel like you discover a different side of yourself as a person in every language you speak. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Oddly enough, yes, I do. This is so weird. I thought you were going to tell me you planned to play professional rugby or something.”

  He shrugged. “I have thought about it. A few teams contacted me to see if I might be interested, but I had to turn them down.”

  “Why?”

  “My da was a professor at the University of Edinburgh. He passed away last year. Colon cancer. Horrific.” He paused for a moment. “I promised him, before he died, I’d finish my studies first, before I even considered playing professionally. I think he only meant to hold me to undergrad, but I knew he’d be happier if I went to grad school, too. It’s what he always imagined for me.”

  “I’m sorry.” The hotel loomed in front of us. I’d slowed my pace without realizing it. I wanted to keep talking with Thomas. “About your dad. That’s rough.”

  He cleared his throat, and for the first time I saw a shadow in his bright eyes as he thought about his father. “Aye. A painful way to die. Something I’d not wish on my worst enemy.”

  “Is your mom okay?”

  “She is. My younger brothers still live in Edinburgh. She’s got her hands full with those three.”

  I smiled. “That’s a lot of testosterone.”

  “True.” He paused near one of the giant potted plants in front of the hotel. “This semester away…I needed it, I guess.”

  “Me, too.” I hugged my arms around my body, trying to stay warm. “Well. I should go. Goodnight, Thomas.”

  “Do you want me to walk you up to your room?”

  I shook my head. “Not necessary.”

  “Do you want me to tuck you into your bed?”

  I bit my lip, trying not to giggle. “Definitely not necessary.”

  “Goodnight, Sam. Sweet dreams.”

  I walked into the bright, sparkling lobby of the hotel, feeling his eyes on my back, wishing I could take him up on his offer, even if he had meant it only as a joke. I turned and saw him; his face lifted to the sky and knew his thoughts were on his fat
her. I knew something else as well.

  Thomas and I had more in common than linguistics. We were both fairly happy, sunny people who’d both been pushed into darkness because of circumstances beyond our control. He’d been there as he watched his father die. I’d been there since the night I found Dylan on the couch. We’d each had that moment of staring into the deep abyss and realizing what it looked like, and knowing how very close we’d come to falling in ourselves. He’d found a way to pull himself out. I still teetered on the edge.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I managed to avoid Thomas for most of the remaining orientation. When we arrived in Kyoto, I spent all my time either studying or exploring the city, a place full of narrow, winding streets, and beautiful gardens. Kyoto was a treasure, with ancient temples, holy shrines, historical architecture, and narrow cobblestone paths. Graceful curved rooftops dotted the landscape, and gorgeous surprises, like exotic houses with exquisite gardens and serene courtyards, hid behind simple wooden gates.

  “Walls and boundaries are important in Japanese culture,” said Dr. Eshima one day in our class on the art and architecture of Kyoto. “This is an island country, most of which is covered by mountains. Space is important. Personal space is sacred. That is why you must go through many walls and doors to get to the inner sanctum of a house, especially an old house. The outside areas are for visitors and acquaintances. As you step a little farther inside, those areas are for friends. People close to you. Deeper still is the place reserved for family, and those special few dearest to your heart.”

  His eyes rested briefly on Hana. He looked away quickly, but I had a feeling his interest in her was not completely scholarly. I had my suspicions confirmed when I arrived home early from class that evening. I’d signed up for ikebana twice a week, but the teacher had the flu and she cancelled at the last minute. I trudged back to the dorm, a bouquet of flowers wrapped in soggy paper in my hand, just as an icy drizzle began to fall.

  We’d planned to work on sho-chiku-bai tonight, otherwise known as “The Three Friends of Winter.” Pine, bamboo, and plum blossoms. Now I had a homework assignment, to try to assemble the arrangement on my own, and I doubted I could do it. I’d shoved a wide porcelain dish and a flat metal piece with pointy spikes on it called a kenzan, or an ikebana frog, into my backpack. I was hungry, tired, cold and wet, and when I opened the door to our room I got a big surprise. Hana and Dr. Eshima. Naked. On the floor. Right in front of me.