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“That’s what I came here to do!” I cried, stomping past a flock of birds pecking at the dirt path heading to the north field, startling them into flight. “But how am I supposed to do that when there are so many people in my house that I never have a moment to myself?”

“Is it really so awful having them all there?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“No!” I exploded. “It’s all sorts of lovely.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “You sound so happy every time I talk to you.”

I sighed. “It’s been amazing. I was so worried I’d feel like an outsider. You know, because they’ve been their own little unit for so long.” I shrugged, the truth revealing itself to me as I spoke. “But it hasn’t been like that at all. I don’t even think I realized until today how hard Art has been working to make me feel like part of the pack. He made it seem so easy. I have no idea what changed.”

“That sounds rough,” Mac said. “And confusing.”

“But maybe this isn’t a bad thing,” I said, sounding unconvinced even to myself. “Maybe it was too easy. I came to Scotland to figure out what I want for myself, not to slip into the first comfortable thing that came along.”

“I’m pretty sure no one has ever described blending families as easy,” Mac said, derailing my train of thought.

I closed my eyes for a moment to pick up the thread. “I’ve always dreamed of a life where I could be myself without having to overthink everything I said or did. You know?” He grunted his acknowledgement. “As bad as things were when we were growing up,”—Mac snorted—“it was exponentially worse with Jim.”

“Meg? What’s really bothering you?” Mac asked softly.

The answer came to me instantly, but I hesitated before saying it out loud.

“He walked away, Mac. He got upset because I didn’t do things the way he wanted, and he shut down and walked away.” A sob bubbled up out of nowhere, strangling me briefly. I choked it down, but my next words came out small and squeaky. “What if he’s just like Jim, and this was just some honeymoon period?”

Mac waited a beat before answering. Then he simply said, “Is he?”

“Is he what?”

“Just like Jim?”

My insides violently turned themselves inside out as everything in me rejected the thought. “No,” I cried. “He’s nothing like Jim. I see it in his eyes when he looks into mine. There’s nothing shuttered there. He wants me to see him. He doesn’t want to keep me at arm’s length. And he truly cares about me and what I think and feel.”

“Then you have your answer,” Mac said.

“But to what question?”

Mac laughed. “I can’t do all the work for you, little sis. That’s for you to figure out,” he replied. “What are you doing right now? How come you’re not at the shop? I was hoping you’d be run off your feet today.”

“Oh! We are. It’s a total zoo over there. But I’m trudging through a field looking for Art’s daughter, even though I know she’s not in this field, and I know exactly where to find her,” I grumped, stomping on a molehill that turned out to be a sharp rock. I swallowed a tiny grunt of pain.

“If you know, why aren’t you in the right field?” he asked. I could hear his baffled frown through the phone.

“Because when I told Art that I knew where she was, he was dismissive and mean.”

“And you got your widdle feewings huwt?” Mac teased.

“Yes!” I cried.

“He said something unkind because he was worried about his kid. If you want him to be patient with you as you figure stuff out, you might want to consider doing the same for him.”

Feeling like a chastised child, I grumbled my agreement.

“Can you please set that pride of yours aside and go find her already?”

“Fine. Ugh. It’s so annoying when you’re right.”

“Oh, come on. You love it and you know it. Why else would you call me for advice?” He laughed. “I love you, sis. Go find that kid and your man. Then get back to work. I want to hear all about this grand opening later tonight. Love you. Mean it. Bye,” Mac signed off, barely giving me enough time to say it back.

It took me a solid ten minutes to walk to the right field, where, as predicted, I found Viv sitting in the grass. Art loomed over her, his hands on his hips, looking both irate and bewildered as she cradled an adorable rust-colored baby Highland cow’s head in her lap, feeding it a comically big bottle.