Page 86

“A limpet?”

“It’s like a barnacle,” Lachlan snorts.

Rhona shoots him a look. “Finlay’s brother wasn’t exactly the most supportive of fathers to him. His brothers are carbon copies of Seamus, so that didn’t make things easier.”

“I should apologize,” I tell her.

Rhona shakes her head. “No need, lass. Brodie isn’t one to hold a grudge. He’ll be right as rain later. He might even come after you with a sorry of his own, knowing him.”

I notice then that Lachlan looks perplexed by the entire exchange, his brow furrowed in thought as he stares at the empty seat Brodie had been occupying. Maybe he’s seeing him in a different light.

“I do hope he’ll still want to talk about his project,” I say. “I’d like to know more about our history also. I mean, since my dad never talked about anything.”

Rhona chuckles softly, dumping the eggs she’s just finished onto a plate. “Duncan was always fascinated by it too. I remember he and Lachlan’s father actually took a trip out to Inverness once. They stayed up that way for days looking into our family tree. I think Duncan felt bad for your da”—Rhona nods her head at Lachlan—“since he didn’t have any records of his own to sift through.”

Lachlan’s mouth parts in surprise, and I feel the same emotionmirrored on my face. I know Lachlan mentioned that his dad and mine had been friends, and had even suggested that my dad might have abandoned him when he left for America—but now I realize that there might be more to the story.

“Lachlan mentioned they were friends,” I prod.

Rhona flips some bacon in another skillet, bobbing her head. “Aye, they were thick as thieves for a number of years. Always running off together on one adventure or another.”

“I have pictures of him,” Lachlan mutters. “Holding me as a baby.”

Finlay chuckles. “You were a fat wee one. Healthy as an ox, your da used to say.”

“It’s odd that my dad never mentioned him,” I venture. “I mean, I get that things were weird between you guys, but if he and Lachlan’s dad were so close…”

“That is strange,” Rhona answers. “I always assumed they’d kept in touch when he left. At least until Callum up and disap—” Her mouth snaps shut as she peeks over at Lachlan, who visibly tenses. “I’m sorry, lad.”

Lachlan shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“How is your mum, by the way?” Finlay asks.

Lachlan looks even more tense, if that’s possible. “We don’t…talk much. It’s hard for her. I look a lot like my da, after all.”

“Och, lad.” Finlay pats Lachlan’s hand, and unless I imagine it, the action seems to drain some of the tension from Lachlan’s shoulders. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m glad you came back home, then. S’good to be around people that care about you.”

Lachlan’s eyes meet mine, and I feel warmth blooming in my chest.

“Aye,” he says quietly. “I’m starting to think so.”

“It’s too bad Brodie isn’t up for a trip to Inverness,” I say, trying to take the focus off Lachlan.

“It’s public record,” Finlay says with a shrug. “You could technically still go. Although I don’t know what you’d find that he hasn’t already sorted himself. You’d have an easier time just talking to Brodie himself, I think. He’s always had a nose for that sort of thing.”

“Too bad we don’t have that auld journal anymore,” Rhona mentions casually, starting to take bacon from the pan and let it rest on a plate. She eyes Finlay. “You remember the one?”

“Oh, aye!” Finlay’s eyes round. “I’d forgotten all about it.”

I find myself leaning in. “What journal?”

“Some auld weathered thing,” Rhona says. “Duncan found it hidden away in the barn years ago. It was buried in this auld trunk.”

I feel my mouth fall open. “Really?”

“Mhm.” Rhona nods as she starts putting food onto plates. “Convinced himself it would lead to some sort of treasure for a bit there.”

Finlay chuckles. “He said it turned out to be nothing more than some boring day-to-day account.”