I wandered over to watch the older girls compete in Highland dance, whirling in clean right angles above the swords placed beneath their feet. From there I headed over to watch the sporting competitions, from wrestling to hammer throw.
I arrived just in time to see a long row of men in kilts get dragged through the mud in the tug of war finals. Among the members of the triumphant team, I saw Ashwin running around in jubilation. I waved at him and he leaped the rope barrier and came over to wrap me in a giant bear hug. It was a definite improvement on our last meeting.
“Congratulations,” I said, after extricating myself.
“Thank yeh verra much indeed,” he said, proudly. “We won because of mah new fitness regimen.”
“Fitness regimen? So you’ve quit smoking?” I asked, delighted.
“Don’t be daft! I’ve shifted from lager to ale. Geordie tol’ me it’d make the difference, and damned if he wasnae righ’!”
“Ah.” I decided to change the subject, just to be safe. “I’ve never seen you in a kilt, Ash. It suits you.”
He shrugged, still beaming all over his mud-caked face. “Usually only for events like this. Me mum’s clan are the MacKenzies, so it’s her family plaid.”
The rest of the team appeared to be clearing the field. “Oi—Patel!” someone shouted. “Quit kissin’ that girl and come fer a pint!”
Ashwin’s face fell. “Guess I’d best be off,” he muttered, and turned to go.
I grabbed his arm and planted a big kiss on one muddy cheek. “See you soon, Ash.”
His mouth dropped open, then he gave a whoop, which momentarily deafened me. “I wasnae kissin’ her—she were kissin’ me!” he yelled, as he ran back to join his team.
I waited until they were well into the beer garden before I wiped the mud off my lips and wandered over to the next event. He hadn’t even seemed surprised to see me, but if that boy’s heart was going to be broken, it wasn’t me who would be responsible.
A large set of wooden seats had been erected to watch the heavy events, but I skirted them and stood near the fence to one side. Seeing the huge men throwing their enormous hammers, I remembered the picture on the side of the bus from early in the springtime, and my high hopes then of finding my Fraser from amongst their number. The memory was threatening to erase the happier mood I had been in since kissing Ashwin, so in the end, I decided it was better to hang out in the agricultural exhibits. Fewer regrets there, anyhow.
Sometime after lunch, I looked up to find Jack beside me.
“Have you had enough to eat?” he asked anxiously. “I’ve been in the main tent over there all day, signing books with the others.”
“There’s plenty to eat,” I assured him. “Pasties and meat pies and bannock … Not that I’m very hungry after that giant breakfast.”
“A full Scottish breakfast does stick to your ribs,” he admitted. “But honestly—are you enjoying the day?”
“Yes, of course,” I said. “I’ve wanted to see these Games since I got here. I can’t believe I actually get a chance to be here in the end. Thank you for bringing me.”
He shook his head impatiently. “You don’t need to thank me. Coming here was just an obligation I couldn’t get out of. But if it makes you happy, then I’m happy, too.”
“It does,” I said. “I just feel sort of—I don’t know—poignant? Nostalgic? I SO hate to leave.”
“Look,” he said intensely, and he took one of my hands in his. “If you want to be here, we will find a way to make it happen. You’ll have to go home first …”
“To Chicago,” I interrupted, thinking of the little wee room at Morag’s.
“Yes,” he went on, not really noticing. “But we will get you back. I promise.”
My eyes followed him as he walked over to the big white tent, and it occurred to me that I had never seen Hamish in a kilt. But I suddenly doubted that he could cut a finer figure than Jack did at that moment, striding off into the afternoon sun.
I thought about telling him so, for about half a minute. I even walked a few steps in the direction of the tent. And then I saw the sign. Not from above, though it might well have been. No, this sign was right in the middle of the field. It was a direction sign.
Author Event, it read. Meet our Guests of Honor.
Guests.
I took a step back, shaded the slanting rays of the afternoon sun from my eyes, and peered at the tent. A long line of people carrying books snaked out the door and around one side of the field. Inside the tent was pretty dark, but if I squinted my eyes, I could just make out the outline of Jack, sitting up on a raised platform, signing books.