“Tree first, group yoga later?” Luna offers.
Mum draws in a dramatic gasp. “We stayed in the most beautiful eco-village in Wales last spring. Learned from a man who was so centered with the earth, he could probably have balanced on one hand. Right, Don?”
“Possibly,” Dad says.
“He could have,” Mum says. “The whole camp did sunrise yoga every morning. I’ve never felt so much peace in my life.”
I’ll try not to take offense that her greatest time of peace had nothing to do with her only child. She tends to exaggerate, anyway. Everything isthe most beautifulthing she’s ever seen orthe bestthing she’s ever tasted orthe nicestthing anyone’s ever said to her.
Things lose meaning when they’re consistently awarded the greatest achievement.
“Let’s find a tree,” I say, rising. “Be ready to leave in one hour?”
Everyone looks up at me, startled. Perhaps I interrupted a conversation, being lost in my own thoughts for so long. I should have waited a tick to see.
Callie saves me, though. “One hour,” she repeats. “We’ll be ready.”
Then I make my escape.
“Should we sing carols?”Ruby asks as we trek across my property toward a copse of pine trees I think will do the trick. Hamish stayed back at the house with Poppy and Oliver, but Violet came with Ruby. After I pointed out where we were headed, Ruby took off, daughter in hand, with Luna and Rhys directly behind her.
Callie and I are bringing up the rear, and I’m not upset about walking at her side or pulling up the end of our train.
“Rudolph!” Violet yells. “I want to sing Rudolph!”
Ruby glances over her shoulder at Luna. “You up for it?”
“Sure.”
They start singing together. Rhys takes Luna’s hand and joins them.
When they’ve reached the chorus and Callie still hasn’t joined in, I lean toward her and lower my voice. “Are you not a fan of reindeer?”
She glances at me quickly. “Oh, I’m just tired. I think I could fall asleep standing up.”
“I can probably throw you over my shoulder if you don’t think you can make it. Save your energy.”
Her face cracks a smile. “This isn’t on my Scottish bucket list, but I feel like I need to add it.”
“Being swept off your feet by a Scot?”
“Being swept off my feet by a Highlander,” she says in a romantic, husky voice.
“That one’s easy enough sorted.” A laugh rumbles from my chest. “What else is on your bucket list?”
“That’s confidential information,” she says around a yawn.
“Touch the stones,” I guess. “You told my dad as much last week.”
Callie grins widely. “I have totryto be sent back in time.”
“Naturally. If I guess more, will you tell me?”
She chews her lip, drawing my attention down. They’re pink and plump and were so willing last week. How was that only a week ago?
“Sure.” Her eyes are bright, the tip of her nose pink.
Everyone ahead of us has moved on to “Frosty the Snowman.” I’m trying to think of things an American woman would want to try in Scotland. “Try haggis?”
