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Looking out at the view
(Blakely)
We popped open a couple of more beers when we were done and collapsed down on the couch, his arm on the back. I leaned against his side with my shoes kicked off and my feet tucked up. “Now that was a day.”
He looked around. “Yer house is verra bare.”
“Like I said, none of that meant anything to me, this is important.” I pulled his hand to my lips and kissed it. “I know we are complicated, we are too fast, too quick, perhaps we are both delusional, but I like you, you know, and we should just figure it out. So you would move here at least for now to be with me?”
“Aye.”
“Can we get the house more comfortable for you?”
“This house is the most foreign thing in the world.”
I laughed. “You said your house back in Scotland was—”
“About a third this size.” He looked around, “it is a nice house though, I bought it with rugby money, I hae held ontae it. I will show ye one day.”
“I’d love that.” I giggled. “We should go to Scotland and go on a long walk, just you and I, backpacks on, going from pub to pub, crossing fields, walking down dusty medieval Scottish roads.”
He said, “Ye are daft.”
“I know, that’s why you love me. What was your house like growing up?”
“M’da descended from a long line of important Campbells, the Earl of Breadalbane was m’great great, I think m’great times nine… uncle. When I was growing up, I lived in the shadow of a castle near Loch Tay that I could say m’ancestors had owned at one time. Now it is a disused hotel and a golf course. My father’s family had a long fall from grace.”
“Maybe that’s why he moved to America, maybe he didn’t want to be reminded of what his ancestors had lost.”
“Could be, I haena thought of that.”
“It must be hard to live in the shadow of a castle that your family used to own.”
“We only have a few artifacts from the time. One is a painting of my great great great, many times over, grandfather. He was born in 1675.”
I lay across his lap, looking up at his face. “So long ago.”
“Aye, I did some research on him, he died the year of the battle of Culloden Moor, but nae in the battle, he was verra old by then...”
I cocked my head. “You did some research?”
“Aye, on the internet, ancestry dot com, ye ken.” He took a gulp of beer.
“You never mentioned you researched your ancestry before, that’s cool.”
“Someday I will take ye tae Scotland, but we will no’ go on a long walk.” He shivered. “We will go in a proper drive-around. I will shew ye Taymouth castle and the lands that m’dear old grandpa used tae lord over.”
“It’s a deal.” I added, “Maybe a little walk here and there.”
“Ye are incorrigible.” He leaned over and kissed my lips.
* * *
We ordered dinner, we drank a bit more, and talked and had a lovely night, then went to bed. We lay down on the bed and spooned facing the windows so he could get the whole feel of looking out at the view. “See how the whole valley twinkles?”
“Aye, and they canna see up here?”
“Nope, we can do anything we want.”
He rolled over onto me, a big bear hug, his mouth on my neck, a lovely sultry lay, and then sweet kisses and a long exhales as we drifted off to sleep with the lights of LA all around us.
