Numb, she walked to the edge of the field and lifted the flag rope without feeling its plastic snap at her skin. She wove her way through the crowd without sensing the other bodies. She’d gotten halfway across the parking lot before she realized she’d left the Hemmertex grounds and the new world of the Gleann Highland Games she’d helped create. Blinking into the sunshine, she knew she had to do what she’d always done: Go forward. Not back.

Doing so had just never hurt this much before.

As she opened the unlocked door to 738 Maple, her phone rang again, jangling her from thoughts of Leith. The little black thing she practically slept with, the inanimate object she usually clung to, she now wanted to chuck across the driveway, like the athletes did with those massive weights.

With a roll of her eyes that felt a little wet, she picked up the call from the guy who’d loaned her the tents as a return favor. Of course they couldn’t provide replacements within a timeframe that would do the Gleann Highland Games any good. And of course he wanted payment for any damages. That was to be expected; she’d demand the same thing if she were him.

Jen dug into her purse and pulled out her wallet. “After you come get the tents and inspect them, send me an itemized list of the damages, then charge them to my personal credit card.” She read off the series of numbers on the piece of plastic in her hand. “I don’t want you to charge Gleann a thing.”

Leith knew the AD was staring at him.

“What was that about?” Duncan asked, and when Leith didn’t answer, he added, “Everything okay with the athletic events?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Events are good.”

“Ah.” Duncan drew out the single word in a way that didn’t need explanation.

After a few long moments of pretending to examine the sheaves Duncan had brought for the toss, Leith finally turned back to see Jen moving slowly away through the gathering crowd. Past her sister who just watched her go. Past Mayor Sue, who shook her head. Even past Shea, whose mess of a tent was nearly cleaned up thanks to the swarm of rugby players. Though Jen walked with her head high, she clutched her giant purse to her chest and Leith knew she was protecting herself using that green leather piece of armor which held her mighty weapons: the laptop and her phone.

That goddamn phone.

If she was so affected by her choice, if she questioned it so much—and she did; her excuses weren’t fooling him—why the hell wasn’t she staying? There were a million more things he’d wanted to say to her, but knew it would’ve done no good, and they might have sprung more from frustration than true reason. She didn’t respond well to that. And besides, he’d made his argument.

She’d forgotten that he knew her, that he’d glimpsed what her life was like back in New York, what sort of world she’d built up around herself. Maybe the threads of that world had loosened since she’d come back to New Hampshire, but once she crossed the bridge back into Manhattan, she’d be swallowed so fast by those jaws of fast-talking, fast-moving events that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, that she wouldn’t even realize she’d shut him out again.

He didn’t know if his heart could take that. Not twice.

He wasn’t looking for a woman to stay back at home while he went out and worked to bring home the paycheck. Hell no. No, Jen was smart and driven and it wasn’t his place to change that. Those were just two of the reasons why he loved her. He loved her for who she was, but he was worried about who she was striving, or even pretending, to be. Doing something to escape pain and heartache wasn’t the same as doing something because it spoke to your heart.

He wanted to be assured she wouldn’t disappear again. But most of all, he just wanted her.

You want her because she was right, boy. Women usually are.

Ah, Da. Leith could hear the old man’s chuckle, the same low, secretive laugh that always came out when he used to talk about his beloved wife. Leith closed his eyes and bowed his head. In the distance, beneath everything else, Chris struck some warm-up notes on his fiddle. Though unamplified, the song still traveled, and Leith wondered if he was hallucinating, because it was Da’s favorite folk tune, the one he used to play over and over on the wobbly record player.

Right about what? Leigh almost asked. But he knew.

I know, I know, came Da’s ethereal, accented voice. The last time you competed you threw like shite in front of me. I get it. But if you really think that ever mattered to me or to anyone else, you’re a fool. You’re also not a father yet. These things are almost impossible to explain to a man who isn’t.

“It does matter,” Leith mumbled. “It matters to me.”

“Huh?” Duncan asked, looking up from his clipboard with a frown.

Leith gave him an awkward smile and shook his head. Duncan ambled away with the clipboard to go check on the high school volunteers.

She was right, Da whispered in Leith’s ear, what she said to you about failure and what’s holding you back. Failure’s only in your mind. To so many others, it’s success.

Jesus. Leith couldn’t breathe. His head snapped up and he scanned the crowd again, but Jen’s dark hair and white dress were long gone.

Boy. Just get in there and throw already. You cleaned out my house. Now clean out your own head.

And just like what had happened in the music tent last night, some people shifted on the other side of the flags—a dad trying to wrangle his five wild kids—and there was Da, sitting on the edge of the scrappy lawn chair, pipe between his teeth, cap on, walking cane upright between his knees. He nodded once. Leith blinked twice. When two of the kids started wrestling, the image was obliterated.

Leith whirled toward the center of the field, where Duncan was mingling with some of the competitors. A few handshakes were going around, a few friendly challenges.

A Braemar stone sat all lonesome off to one side. Twenty-two pounds of black rock calling Leith’s name. With a purpose he hadn’t felt in at least four years, he stomped over to the stone. Picked it up. Rolled it between his hands. Warm and smooth, a little bit of home in his palms.

He could hear the murmurs starting, the building roar of the crowd, his name spoken in several voices he recognized and just as many he didn’t. The sound followed him like he approached a waterfall, building and building the farther into the field he walked. Out of the corner of his eye he could see people hurrying over to the field, beckoned by family members or strangers. A few whistles and scattered applause filled the air.

“Do it, Dougall!” someone yelled.

But that wasn’t why he took his place behind the trig, got his feet set into position. Wide. Steady. No, this didn’t have to do with them. This was for the man and the woman who weren’t even here. And for himself.

“What’re you doing, Dougall?” Duncan this time, loud and clear, for all to hear.

Leith swung out his left arm, finding his balance, assuming the form Da had taught him. He raised the Braemar stone and tucked it between his chin and shoulder. A few deep breaths. A crouch. Then he launched that sucker up and into the field, not really caring where it landed. That wasn’t the point.

All of Gleann seemed to erupt in cheers.

He walked away from the trig. Duncan’s round face was split by a massive grin, that missing tooth making an appearance. His huge arms were thrown out wide and he was laughing. “What the hell are you doing?”

Leith stomped over and snatched Duncan’s clipboard from his hands. “What’s it look like?” Leith scrawled his name at the bottom of the list of competitors. “I’m fucking throwing.”

Chapter

24

Leith sat on the edge of the motel bed, cheap polyester bedspread sticking to his thighs, cold air rattling out from the window unit but just barely filling the room. The second floor window overlooked a parking lot near Stamford, Connecticut, off I-95.