Brandy enjoyed living in southern California and for a time things were fine. Then one afternoon, on a bike ride through the Hollywood Hills, she was struck by a car, and in that instant everything in her life changed.
The extent of Brandy's injuries were severe, a skull fracture and bruised brain, to go along with multiple fractures to her arms and legs, a punctured lung, a broken left eye socket, and a shattered jaw. She would undergo three major surgeries, spend weeks in intensive care and five months in physical therapy, during which time her husband had an affair.
Townson stayed with his wife through most of her recovery, waiting until she was well enough to leave the hospital before presenting her with divorce papers. Fourteen months after leaving Scotland, Brandy returned to the Highlands, divorced, lonely, and depressed.
As Darwin once said, there are exceptions throughout the natural selection process. Brandy was a swan with an injured wing, and that's how ducks like me land swans.
What I didn't know was Brandy's phobias ran as deep as my own. "So, the son o' Angus Wallace returns. Quit starin' an' give me a hug."
We embraced, my nostrils inhaling her pheromones, my groin awakening for the first time in months.
"I'll get us some drinks," said True. "You two keep getting' reacquainted."
She smiled and sat opposite me, the light catching the burnt orange highlights in her ink-black hair. "If I know my brother the matchmaker, he'll no' be back anytime soon."
"So, how're you feeling? I mean, you look… amazing."
"True told ye about my wee accident, huh? I'm fine now, but it was bad, plus we had no insurance, leavin' the lawyers tae sue the driver's company. It was a nasty fight but we won, then in the end, my ex- husband confessed he was screwin' my private nurse."
"Geez."
"It gets better. Seein' how I wasn't yet a citizen, the ex an' his new whore helped themselves tae all the insurance money. Sixty grand they stole from me, the no-good thieves."
I leaned in, hoping to impress her with my own relationship scars. "Six months ago I was engaged. She was actually one of my students, an undergrad in biology. She waited until final grades were posted, then broke up with me while I was lying in a hospital bed. Told me she sold the engagement ring and was using the money to go to Cancun on Christmas break with her new boyfriend."
Her laugh energized my soul. "Well, are we no' two peas in a pod. So tell me, Zachary Wallace, how does it feel tae finally be a big shot scientist?"
"I don't know, am I famous or infamous?"
"Ye located a giant squid, I'd say ye're famous. Just like ye aye wanted. I can still remember you an' me dissectin' fish an' frogs an' birds in yer father's cellar."
"That's right, I forgot about that."
"No' me, I remember everythin'. Tae me, those were my good times. Did True tell ye I'm takin' a correspondence course at the local college."
"That's terrific."
"No, but it's a start. I'm learnin' all sorts o' stuff. Did ye know an ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain?"
"No, but I won't forget it."
She smiled, then became melancholy. "I read about yer sub sinkin'. One o' the men died, eh?"
"It was an accident."
"I know. I was relieved ye came out okay."
"Technically, I drowned."
"The article said ye nearly drowned."
"Nope, I was dead. Pffffttt."
"An' exactly how does one know if one's dead? You see a heavenly light?"
"Sort of" Feeling antsy, I looked over my shoulder to see where True was with those drinks. He was at the bar, absorbed in a conversation with two scantily clad Scandinavian women who were showing him their belly-button rings.
I signaled for a waitress.
"So Zack, what does one do after one returns from the dead?"
"Get drunk, become depressed, and return to the Highlands, what else?"
We laughed and talked and drank and ate and flirted. An hour later, we slipped out of the pub and walked half-drunk through the center of town, arm in arm, and I knew then that I had never loved Lisa, at least I had never been "in love" because what I was feeling now was like walking on air.
"Did True tell ye how I earn my wages?" she asked.
"He was vague. Something about working in Brackla."
"I run a tour boat from the docks o' the Clansman Hotel. It's a used Sea Angler, just over nine meters. Topside's got benches, enough tae accommodate sightseers, down below's where I live. Want tae see?"
It was the kind of line a man might wait his whole life to hear, but the thought of getting on a boat docked at night in Loch Ness sobered me up like a pot of coffee.
Still, this was love, and love (and lust) conquered all. So we climbed aboard the Harley and motored north on the A82, the howling wind in our hair, Brandy's nibbling on my earlobe driving me wild.
Brackla is a small hamlet located along the Loch's northwestern shore, approximately halfway between Drumnadrochit and Lochend. Its draw is the Clansman, the only hotel (save for Angus's new resort) situated directly on the banks of Loch Ness. The facility has twenty-eight suites, all offering panoramic views of the Loch, along with large dining rooms and halls that have hosted many a wedding and Scottish dinner dance.
Situated directly behind the Clansman Hotel was a rectangular inlet that served as a docking area for Loch Ness. Brandy's boat, the Nessie III, was tied off at the end of one of the piers. As we crossed over the wooden boardwalk that led to her berth, I could feel trepidation rising in my gut.
"So Zachary? What dae ye think?"
"That depends. What happened to the Nessie I and II?"
"Oh, the monster ate them," she teased, rubbing my groin.
I felt queasy. "Brandy, why don't we go back to the lodge and—"
"Come on, I'll give ye the tour." Ignoring my objections, she took my hand and dragged me aboard, reciting more obscure facts she had learned from her correspondence course. "Did ye know butterflies taste wi' their feet?"
White-washed wooden benches, set parallel to one another and nailed to the main deck, ran the length of the deck. Forward was the wheelhouse, its entry framed by a pair of doors. One guarded a sea toilet and sink, the other led below deck to Brandy's private quarters.
Fear pounded in my pulse as Brandy coaxed me below, pointing out the engine room, her galley, and the refurbished bathroom. And then she led me forward into her cabin, slipped out of her sandals, and kissed me hard on the lips.
Her Scotch-laced tongue flitted in my mouth as her hand unzipped the fly of my pants. I fumbled like an orangutan with the back of her bra, the clasps of which must have been welded shut.
"Let me." She reached behind her back and freed her breasts.
For a precious moment, my desire overcame my phobia… until the boat rose and dropped beneath a half-dozen wakes and the fear rose again in my gut, tossing ice water over my hard-on.
I jumped as she unbuckled my pants. "Brandy, wait, I… I can't do this."
"Why?" she purred. "Did yer knob perish on the Sargasso, too. Perhaps I'll have tae resuscitate it, yeah?"
"No!" My mind raced like a demon, not wanting a repeat of what had happened on South Beach. "I mean, your father… it's your father. He'll know I stayed with you tonight."
"Since when do you give a shyte what my old man thinks?"
"Since… since he saved my life. See, if I slept with you tonight, our first night together, I'd be disrespecting him, see? And that would ruin any chance we had with him later on."
"I don't care. I hate the bastard worse than you hate Angus, now take off yer clothes, I need tae feel you inside o' me."