Page 72 of Priceless
Of course, it wasn’t as if anyone would believe the witch and ghost elements, but… something still seemed off. What was I missing?
I thought back to the first time I’d read it, then scrolled until I found the ending, where Jocko had explained more:
So you see, lass, the most romantic Celtic story I ken isnae about grand gestures or perfect heroes. It’s about a man who thought he had nothin’ to offer, and a woman who saw everythin’ in him anyway. It’s about two lives collidin’ by chance—and them choosin’, again and again, to stay.
It’s about love that comes quietly, like a soft hum under your breath, until it fills every corner o’ your soul.
Funny,wasn’t it?
It was like Jocko knew exactly what would happen to me in Inverness. A man who thought he had nothing to offer—a humble man, like Jacob. And a woman who saw everything in him anyway. Two lives colliding by chance, and them choosing, again and again, to stay.
Only I hadn’t stayed. That’s where Jocko got it wrong.
A love that comes quietly, like a soft hum under your breath, until it fills every corner o’ your soul.
Okay. So he was spot on there.
Almost…toospot on.
I opened my texts, opened the chat with Jocko. Then asked an impossibly ridiculous question I already knew the answer to.
Can AI see the future?
I forbade myself to think another thought while I waited. But Jocko didn’t answer. Then I wondered if, with all that steel, a train might be like a vertical elevator. Maybe all signals couldn’t get through. That seemed logical.
But Jocko anticipating what was waiting for me in Inverness? Not logical at all.
Luck?
I glanced at the young girl across the aisle, waved and smiled to get her attention. “Hey. Do you have access to Google right now?” I suddenly didn’t trust my own phone.
She nodded.
“Would you mind googling what is the most romantic Celtic story of all time?”
She blinked, then shrugged and typed with her thumbs. Then she nodded. “I figured.”
“And?”
“Tristan and Isolde.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” Then I had a second thought. “Wait. Can you search one more thing?”
“Aye.”
“Just google The Blossom and the Bee.”
She typed, then scowled, then scrolled. “Pages and pages of gardening stuff.”
I held up my hand. “That’s okay. That’s all I needed to know. Thank you.” I straightened in my seat, then faced the window. Instead of scenery, I saw faces. Banner telling their story. Jess looking at me like I was an idiot when I told her she was famous. Jacob standing just inside the door to the hoorah, not moving. Like he was scared stiff.
I was going to be sick! I hated my myself. Wanted to throw my body out the window, to make this all stop. But the memories kept coming.
The look on Jess’s face when I told her my friend had recommended Jocko’s Pub for lunch. My online Scottish friend. She thought he had to be a local.
They’re always improvin’ their menu, Jocko told me.
Then Jacob. “New menu. Nothin’ naff, then?”
