Page 99 of Scotlander

‘Nope. It’s usually I guess I’ll never know because if you’re asking yourself that question, chances are high you’ve never tried anything that scared you.’ He clapped his meaty paws together and gave them a rub. ‘Life’s for living, Willaford Jenkins.’

‘Amen to that, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson.’ They high fived, grinned at one another and then Willa unclipped her lapel mic. ‘I’ve got to go.’

‘I know you do,’ he said, as if he’d been waiting for this moment – the one when a person who made their living by interviewing famous people realises she wasn’t actually living – to finally arrive.

‘C’mere!’ He rose and opened his arms wide once the sound tech helped her untangle herself from the wires. ‘Good luck,’ he whispered when he’d pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. ‘And enjoy the terror of knowing you’re doing the right thing.’

She went back to the hospitality suite, asked Charlie to do the rest of her interviews, grabbed her tote – the one that still had her unopened letter from her dead best friend in it – and left.

If saying goodbye to her best friend had been the hardest thing Willa had ever done, saying the same to Finlay had come a very close second.

No, he wasn’t dying. Yes, she could live without him. But the truth of the matter was, she didn’t want to.

She loved him. She might even love him as much as she loved Val. The jury was still out on that one, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that when she was with him she felt alive in a way she never had here in LA or at home in Oregon.

After careering through traffic for half an hour, she clomped up the stairs to her apartment and did what she should’ve done two weeks ago. Reached into her tote and pulled out Valentina’s letter.

Hola, Chica!

So. Knowing you the way I do (and yes, since I’m up here in heaven for eternity, everything gets to be in the present tense) . . . I am guessing you didn’t open my letter until you got back.

If I’m wrong . . . everything still holds true, but I doubt I’m wrong. (Such a curse being right all of the time! LOL.) Anyway, I wanted you to know what I hope you’ve known in your heart already. That to me, you are family. Always were, always will be. The best friend a girl could have ever hoped to find in a town of four million people. Diego and the girls are probably back in Austin, so you better go down there and get them to take you out for barbecue when you can, okay? Also, tell him to stop moping and go find love again. Cliché, I know, but he and the girls deserve more than a life full of moping even though the best mamacita in the world isn’t on earth any more. Someone (almost) as fab can fill a pair of equally kick-ass shoes.

Muchas gracias for being with Gabe when I Ghost-of-Christmas-Past-ed him. He was always there for me as a kid, and it means so much that he had family with him in Scotland. Did it go well? If they have the best gay wedding in the world, please make a speech and tell everyone it was totally because of me. If I royally fucked up (and I don’t believe this is a possibility because dead people are always perfect), pretend I had no idea Lachlan was going to show up. Freak occurrence.

I hope you don’t hate me forever for the full-immersion experience. Tossing you into the Outlander deep end wasn’t really the goal. Throwing you a life ring to get you out of Tinselhell was. You’re worth so much more than you think you are, guapita. You have the biggest heart of anyone I have ever met. The kindest soul. You are made of generosity. Go home. Tell your family you love them. Then pursue your real dreams. You’ve helped enough people reach theirs. It’s your turn, mija. Your moment to shine bright.

I can and will wait a loooong time for you to join me up here at the Guac and Talk Margarita Party in the sky because the good things in (after)life are totally worth waiting for. Now go on, bonita. Shake some boom-boom into your booty and get living for you!

Love you always, muchos besos, Vx

PS – Didn’t you just LOVE Lawful Falafels! 1-800-FOR-EVER!!!!

Willa didn’t need to hear the pilot’s announcement to know this particular group of travellers was headed to Pendleton, Oregon. Like the mismatched group of superfans finding ‘their people’ in Glasgow airport, there was a certain aesthetic attached to the Eastern Oregonian. A preponderance of Carhartt. Lots of clothing with Native-American-inspired patterns. Jeans with dirt ground into the fibres. Thrift-store chic.

It was one of the poorest states in the country, but somehow the graft that came with poverty was never what shone through to Willa whenever she returned home. The smiles were. The natural lean into kindness. The instinct to help a neighbour when turning a blind eye would be the easier option.

‘Being nice is free,’ her mother always used to say. ‘Being mean comes with a price.’

Willa headed to baggage claim as that and countless more cross-stitch-worthy sayings crept out of her mental woodwork.

A smile makes a good impression, but a frown cuts deep.

If you’re true to yourself, you’ll always be honest with others.

She laughed when, as she heaved her enormous tote off the luggage carousel, a marine stepped in and popped it on to a wheelie cart for her.

‘Thank you for your service.’ She gave him a little salute.

The guy touched the rim of his hat. ‘Thank you for the honour of serving.’

And that’s what it boiled down to. Finding the role that suited you best. A position in life that felt like an honour.

‘Willa?’ Her mom jogged through the sliding doors of the arrivals hall. ‘Sorry I’m late, honey. Things got a bit hairy at school with a couple of the kids.’

She looked so worried. So concerned that she’d let Willa down, but the truth was, no matter what, her mom had always been there.

She thought of Finn and how he and his mother had left so many things unsaid and how he was using actions – quitting his job, devoting himself to Balcraigie, making peace with his stepfamily – to try to compensate for a wound that would probably never fully heal.