Page 7 of Grace on the Rocks

They’d been constant companions as children, and then roommates on the mainland for a few years whileTeàrlachattended flight school.Whenhis younger cousin returned home like the prodigal son,Bryancontinued to wander, leavingGlasgowto apprentice with the distilleries onIslay.Oneof the few people he’d kept in touch with during his exile, and sporadically at that,Teàrlachnever overtly blamed him for leaving.Butafter so many years, maybe he, like the rest of the family, blamedBryanfor not coming back.

“I’m here to open a distillery,” he answered after a too-long pause, and saying it out loud made his stomach swoop as though the plane were dropping altitude too quickly.Sayingit made it real.

His cousin turned to check that he was serious, andBryanresisted the urge to tell him to watch where he was flying.

“OnBarra?”

“Why not?”Bryandemanded, a little too defensively.Hetook a breath. “It’llbring jobs.Tourism, maybe.There’san investor who likedRionnagachwell enough to give me the capital ifIcan demonstrate my commitment to net-zero carbon.”

“Bry, that’s amazing.”

His stomach’s altitude settled a little.

“He was lead designer for anArdbegexpression that won a bunch of awards last year,”Teàrlachbragged to the copilot, who nodded and made the mildly impressed sort of sounds people make when they’re too polite to say they don’t care.IfTeàrlachnoticed, he didn’t show it. “Zerocarbon too?” he went on. “Theybacked the right horse, there.”

“Aye.Longas the islanders are open to it?”Bryandidn’t mean to say it like a question, but when he was a young, idealistic lad of eleven, he didn’t exactly endear himself to the townspeople with his passion for environmentalism.Itwas his greatest fear that the place he’d annoyed and then abandoned wouldn’t have him back, hat in hand, jobs or no jobs.

Teàrlach shrugged. “Everyoneloves a dram.Justmaybe don’t yell at them about theirSundayroast killing the polar bears this time.”

Like he had with the woman in the bookshop.

Bryan shook his head in agreement.He’donly done it to needle her after she’d called him aNeanderthal.Toplace them on more equal footing.

“So you’ll be staying then?”

Bryan liked to think he heard a hopeful note in his cousin’s voice.

“Aye, well,I’vegot to impress the investor, buy land.It’skind of a lot.”Hetook a deep breath. “Anyway, that’s the idea.”

“The family’ll be glad,”Teàrlachassured him.

The fidget toy was spinning so fast by now it could probably propel them the rest of the way home. “Youthink?”

“Aye.Whereare you staying?”

“Grandad’s.”Hisgut roiled again.Butno one ever said any of this would be easy. “Didyou make it to the wake?”

“I did, aye,”Teàrlachsaid, and of course he had.Thewhole island would have turned out:MacNeilsandBuchanansalike, laughing and crying and sharing stories of oldGrandadMac, and onlyBryanmissing.

What kind ofNeanderthalwould miss his own grandfather’s funeral?Thewords rattled his brain in layers ofAmericansnark.Shehadn’t said them, but she would have been right to.

He’d wanted to be there.Boughta suit and a plane ticket and everything.Butthen he had a panic attack about seeing everyone and being asked to make a speech, or worse, not being asked to.

In the end, he missed his flight.He’dspent the whole wake sitting on the floor of the loo in a dankGlasgowhotel, raising a dram to the old man who practically raised him—practically raised them all—the four musketeers until one by one, three had left the island andGrandadMacbehind.

“AndAlec?”

“Och.Noone’s heard fromAlecin years, unless you have.”

Bryan shook his head.Itwas just one more way he’d let the family down, losing touch with his older cousin years before.Buthe was back now.Maybethat could count for something.Maybehe could finally rediscover the peaceBarrahad once held for him, asTeàrlachhad.

His heart swelled when the white sandy beach that would serve as a landing strip came into view, dredging up memories of running fast along the same beach with his three cousins, learning to make his new kite take wing, then doing the same years later with his little sister.Bryanhad been half-afraid he’d feel nothing for the island, that after as many years away as home, the place he’d grown up would no longer welcome him.Heswallowed down the lump in his throat, grateful to discover one fear, at least, was for naught.

“Beautiful as you remember?”Teàrlachasked softly.

“More,”Bryanrasped.

“I never get tired of this sight,” the copilot agreed, asTeàrlachput the plane gently on the ground, smooth as spreading butter.

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