Page 5 of Wild Scottish Rose

“What are they doing?” I grabbed Agnes’s arm, panic gripping me.

“Saving the eejit who got too close to the island. I just hope they get there in time.”

CHAPTER THREE

Owen

Scotland was proving to be as enchanting as everyone claimed it to be. I’d only ever been twice before, literally quick in-and-outs to meet with a film production company based in Glasgow, so this was my first time truly experiencing the majestic beauty of the Scottish countryside. Knowing that I’d need some time to unwind after the stress of Kennedy’s wedding, I’d scheduled a month off just to take some downtime.

Who was I kidding? I was already sketching out ideas for projects. It was hard not to. The moody ambience and stark contrasts of charming villages set against rugged landscapes was making me itch for my camera. My iPhone would have to do for now, as I framed out a video clip that panned a small white cottage set on the shores of a loch, with jagged green hills rising behind it. The wind gusted,bringing with it a kiss of rain against my cheeks, and I smiled, not minding the brisk autumn cold in the slightest.

I may have been born in Texas, but I’d left that state long ago. When my parents divorced, my mom had spirited me away to New England, while Kennedy had stayed with our father in Texas. It was an unusual move, splitting the children like that, but we’d both been obstinate in our choices.

My mother had needed looking after.

Kennedy had needed someone to spoil her.

Only later would I learn the real reason for splitting us apart.

And so the cracks in our family foundation had sprung, severing me from my base, and my life had splintered off in another direction from Kennedy’s until we were largely strangers by the time we’d grown up. I did my best to relate to her, but over the years, the chasm had widened, and we’d both seemed content on letting the space grow. Until her wedding, that was. Suddenly thrust into the throes of bridal madness, Kennedy had decided we needed to work on our relationship and had even tried to reunite my mother and father once more.

That had gone as well as giving a cat a bath.

As if on cue, my phone rang, my mother’s name flashing on the screen, cutting the video I was taking. I debated, briefly, on ignoring the call, as I always did, but then relented.

Like I always did.

“Hi, Mom. Did you make it back safely?”

“Hardly. The plane shook so much I was sure we were going to crash and explode like that plane that went downlast year. Did I ever tell you that your great aunt Elizabeth was on a plane that went missing?”

Only every time she has to fly. Angela Elizabeth Williams did not fly well. Nor did she drive well. She didn’t handle stressful situations well, or any situation that required a modicum of effort on her part. She said what she wanted to say, she took a daily “tonic” for her nerves, and pretended to be so fragile that I was ready to nominate her for an Emmy for her acting skills. Behind the guileless blue eyes and hair piled as close to God as she could get it, lay a stubborn backbone of steel, and an absolute refusal to learn how to function on her own. After she’d left my dear ol’ daddy, she’d burned her way through a wide swath of husbands, like a hot knife cutting through butter, and I’d consoled her through each breakup like the good son that I was. For years, I’d parented her before I’d become old enough to understand a few simple truths:

One? Angela Elizabeth Williams did not want to work for a living.

Two? Angela Elizabeth Williams was incapable of telling the truth, and skirted around any narrative that didn’t exactly suit her needs.

And three? Angela Elizabeth Williams was the bane of my existence, and despite her many, many,manyflaws, she was still my momma, and I loved her.

It was no wonder I struggled with trusting the women in my life. No matter how hard I’d tried to not overanalyze a date’s comments, I’d fall into old patterns of second-guessing their answers, trying to sift through the words to find the truth. In fact, I’d turned finding the truth into a mission of sorts in life, and my documentaryfilms had won numerous awards. That being said, it wasn’t a trait that was always the most helpful in my love life. Turns out women didn’t like their character being called into question, and I’d had more than one date up and walk out on me.

Which was how I’d found myself here, taking a break from filming movies, and escaping from my most recent failed relationship. One of these days I’d get it right, or so my therapist hoped, but for now, I’d seek solace in the balm of Scotland’s rugged landscapes.

“You’ve mentioned Elizabeth a few times,” I said, certain that my great aunt had absconded with a swarthy rancher, leaving her husband behind. The official narrative was that her plane had gone missing.

Sometimes I envied Elizabeth’s sudden departure from her real life.

What a treat that must be, to up and leave it all, cutting ties and never looking back. Only in my wildest of daydreams would I do that, but still, it was hard to resist the siren’s song of no longer having to deal with my admittedly very messed-up family dynamics.

“Yes, well, honey, it’s a miracle we made it home alive, I’ll tell you that. And David snored the whole way. Can you imagine? He didn’t even think about the rest of us stuck in those tiny seats with him. Louder than a Mack truck barreling down the highway.”

Tiny seats? I’d flown her first class, making sure David, who was also the full-time butler I’d hired, was seated next to her to see to her every need. David was a gift, a national treasure really, and I’d just increased the man’s salary to ensure he wouldn’t even think of leaving the position.

It was the year after I’d graduated from filmschool when my mother’s demands had increased, and a friend had jokingly suggested a butler for her. It had been a lightbulb moment, a pivotal point in the beginning of me untangling my roots from hers, and I’d worked extra jobs through the years to ensure a salaried staff member could see to her needs. It had been, hands down, the healthiest thing I’d ever done for myself, and though I still made myself available to my mother, the buffer of having paid staff to help, had gone a long way toward healing the resentment I held for her.

“Didn’t the airline give you ear plugs? They hand out those nice little toiletry bags in first class.” I leaned against the hood of my rental, crossing my legs at the ankles, and watched a heron stalk a fish on the pebbly shoreline.

“Jam those rubber things in my ears?” My mother gasped like I’d suggested she get a job and look after herself instead of relying on alimony payments. “And what if they never came out, Owen Matthew Williams?”

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