Page 96 of Blakely and Liam

I climbed out of the car and called after Liam, “Take him around the house to the pool chairs over there!”

“Och, he is a load.”

I raced into the house, grabbed my phone, and went back to the car and took photos of all of it: the gun, the whisky bottle, and the fender of the car embedded into the bushes. And then I followed Liam to the pool and photographed Darren in sprawled in lounge chair. Darren covered his face, but it was too late.

“These photos are for my lawyer.”

“You can’t leave me out here, it’s my house.”

Liam said, “We already discussed it, maybe ye daena remember as ye are thoroughly wrecked, but this is Blakely’s house, and my toothbrush, and on and on — this fact is indisputable. I am goin’ tae let ye sleep off yer shame here in one of Blakely’s chairs, because I daena want tae think on ye anymore, I hae yer ex-wife tae bed.”

He tried to climb from the chair but got his feet tangled in the leg and fell forward. “Ow!”

Liam stood over him and said to me, “What was it I said, when ye first told me about this man?”

“You said he ‘sounded shite’ or something, you’re very wise.”

We left him moaning piteously as we returned to the front of the house. Liam asked, “Can ye get the gun? I daena want tae touch it, and can ye hide this?” He passed me the car key.

“Sure, yeah.” I grabbed the gun from the carseat where I had left it and carried it and the car key into the house.

Liam stood by the door, “How do ye lock it?”

I said, “Push that main red button.”

My hands were shaking as I put the gun and the key into a mixing bowl and then spun around looking for somewhere to put it. I wasn’t sure why, he wasn’t getting in the house, but anyway, I wanted it out of my sight. I slid open my extra-large pots and pans drawer, put the bowl inside a stew pot, placed the lid over it, and closed the drawer. I said, “There,” and then I burst into tears.

Liam strode over. “Now, now, Woodshee, how come ye are cryin’?”

I said, “That was really scary.”

He wrapped me in his arms and kissed my forehead.

“What would I have done if you weren’t here?”

“Ye would hae kept the door locked for one, I shouldna hae opened it. It dinna dawn on me he would hae a gun, ye Americans are mad dangerous, I hae tae remember every yellin’ arse might be carryin’ a weapon.”

I chuckled, my arms wrapped around him. “I was very impressed how you stood there, I was afraid you might get into a brawl, and I—”

“I daena brawl, Blakely, hae ye seen the size of me? If ye are big ye hae tae come up with another way tae stop the wee men from wanting tae brawl, else ye might kill them.”

“Really?”

“Och aye, m’dad told me when I was young, ‘Liam, ye are a Campbell, and ye are goin’ tae grow up tae be big. Ye hae tae win by nae fightin’. Ye hae tae be like Ben Cruachan.’ That’s the name of a mountain in Scotland, near the shore of Loch Awe.”

“So that’s what you were doing when Darren shoved on you?”

“Aye, I was bein’ a mountain tae his wee sheep. The lamb canna move the mountain though he might try.”

“Well, it was awesome, thank you, I would have been freaking out if you hurt him.”

We squeezed tighter and then let go.

“I winna hurt him.” He cocked his head and smiled. “He is inconsequential tae us, inna he?”

I nodded.

“I winna hurt him, and he canna hurt us, he is nothing. We ought tae think on him as yer past and when the past comes a-knockin’ we just look it in the eye and say, ‘begone.’”

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