Scotland By Starlight: The sequel to A Scottish Ferry Tale

By Nancy Volkers

Cassie Wrentham is on her way to Scotland again... but this time it's not vacation. She's moving in with Ralph Macnair, the charismatic Scotsman who stole her heart. But Cassie wouldn't be Cassie without doubts. Will she find a job in a tight U.K. economy? Would marrying Ralph now be only for convenience's sake? Will she fit in, make friends, make a life there? Or will it all fall apart?

Bursting with a lively cast of characters, all with their own stories and challenges, Scotland By Starlight follows Cassie and Ralph from the new beginnings of their intense relationship to a conclusion like no other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nancy Volkers
• Release date: Feb 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458094513

Nancy Volkers

Bios are harder to write than novels!I live in Vermont with my family. I've been writing for more than 35 years, and have published poetry and short stories. A Scottish Ferry Tale is my first novel.I'm an eternally curious, somewhat distracted autodidact. Five words that describe me: witty, moody, analytical, idealistic, caffeinated.

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Scotland By Starlight:

The sequel to A Scottish Ferry Tale

Nancy Volkers

Published by Nancy Volkers at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Nancy Volkers

Smashwords edition, license notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination, as frightening as that might seem. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover photo: Tobermory harbor, Isle of Mull, Scotland. Copyright © Ai-lan Lee / Dreamstime.com

You've been hearing my story so patiently for a lifetime

Now hear this: it was nothing but a fairy tale.

- Rumi

Chapter 1

Sero sed serio

Late but in earnest

Clan Kerr

July 6, 1993

8:35 p.m. EDT

We do apologize, ladies and gentleman, for the delay. Once we can ensure that the evacuation slide is in proper working order, we’ll have you on your way. Thanks for your patience.

The intercom clicked off, as First Officer Jumzy Wurnel (okay, that obviously was not his name, but he was a mumbler) completed the painful yet necessary duty of informing a 757 full of irritated people that we would not be leaving for London just yet. Or any time soon, probably.

Evacuation slide, I said to myself. I guess that’s good to have. I sighed, and the young guy next to me chuckled and jiggled his leg in an annoying way.

Headed to London? I asked.

Uh, Glasgow, he said, fiddling with his seat belt. He was a bit younger than I was. Jeans, sneakers, grey shirt, track jacket. Wild, curly blond hair everywhere; long, regal face with a nose I was envious of; a few acne scars on his cheek; wouldn’t look me in the eye. Still, he was not unattractive. Just nervous.

Ever been? I asked.

No, he said. He matched up the sides of his track jacket as if he were about to zip it, but didn’t. First time overseas. He let out a bark-laugh.

You’ll love it, I said, having no idea if he really would. Vacation?

He shrugged, and released a series of facts while pulling the cuffs of his jacket down over his hands, and then off again. School. A summer semester thing. Economics.

What I knew about economics would fit underneath the seat in front of me, but I didn’t tell him that. Sounds great. I have some friends who studied overseas. They loved it.

Okay, one friend. One ex, anyway. And I was never clear on whether Jason loved it or not… only that he no longer loved me. I hadn’t heard or seen him since our college graduation. By now, he could be a lawyer, I thought to myself. An actual lawyer, changing the course of the universe somehow. Terrifying.

But I couldn’t fault Jason too much. Visiting him in Scotland three years ago—and being unceremoniously dumped my first night there—had, however indirectly, led to me falling in love with Ralph Macnair. After a passionate, roller-coaster-like relationship, an unexpected marriage proposal and a not-unexpected-but-still-devastating breakup, I’d grown up a bit, come around and asked for Ralph’s forgiveness and another chance.

How about you? he asked, still jiggling his leg. Vacation?

Ah, no, I said. I’m… well, I’m moving to Glasgow.

Wow, the kid said. Exciting. Do you know anyone there?

I’m moving in with… my boyfriend, I said, hating the word but not knowing what else to call Ralph. Paramour? Lover? Significant other? Old man?

Uh, no. Not the last, at least.

I didn’t know you could do that, the kid said.

Well, I suppose I might go to hell, I said. But I’m willing to take the risk.

He looked at me blankly for a few seconds, and then burst out laughing. His leg stopped jiggling, his fingers stopped messing with his seatbelt, his face opened up and he had hazel eyes.

You can stay on a tourist visa, which is good for six months, I said. If you get engaged, you can get a fianceé visa, but that’s only good for another six months; I guess they think that’s time enough to plan a wedding?

He shrugged. Or elope.

I guess, I said. Or you can go and try to get a job, which is what I’m hoping to do, but it can be a huge ordeal, and the economy there sucks right now.

Sounds complicated.

They don’t make it easy.

Good luck, the guy said, rummaging around in his backpack and pulling out Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency and a Walkman.

I took the hint and leaned back against the seat, closed my eyes, and sent a quick prayer to the god of delayed airline flights. I tried not to think too much about what I was doing, in the larger sense of things, because the enormity of it could nearly give me a panic attack. I thought I may have had one, in fact, just a week before. In the grocery store.

I don’t think many people have panic attacks in the condiment aisle, but that’s where mine had struck. I’d been strolling with my cart, and suddenly I was in Glasgow, walking down the condiment aisle at the local grocery, where nothing looked the same as it did in America and the ketchup always tasted funny and there was no marshmallow fluff or ranch dressing or decent peanut butter. And no grape jam. None. Would I learn to make do with raspberry? Could I convince Rachel or Leslie to send me care packages? What was I thinking? I hated change. If I couldn’t handle a grape jam embargo, how would I ever handle the thousands of other differences that awaited me?

Before I’d left Scotland, Ralph and I had several long discussions about moving in together. How much space would I need in the closet. (I wasn’t kidding about the lot of shoes.) How would finances work. Would I pay rent? (I said yes, definitely; he said no. We never did agree.) Could I use his car. What, exactly, would I do all day? This was my main fear: I would move to be with Ralph and wind up spending my days reading magazines and dusting his awards, waiting for him to come home. I couldn’t imagine such a life. No matter how lighthearted these discussions were, I always wound up crying. Not because Ralph said anything insensitive, or wanted me to do anything I was against doing.

I’m just… nervous, I’d said the third time it had happened—having vociferously denied that anything was wrong the first two times.

Nervous? Ralph came up next to me at the door to his balcony. Our balcony. Whatever.

I… I’m changing everything, I said. All of it. What if it’s not enough?

He made a noise in the back of his throat. ’What if’… you know any question starting with that phrase is not worth asking.

I put my head against the cool glass of the door.

I’m scared, I said. I thought I’d be less scared than before, but I’m not.

Have you changed your mind, then, he said, in that asking-a-question-but-not-really tone.

No, I said. I definitely have not. I turned to him. It’s like… you have a dream. A wish. You think it will probably never come true—and that’s part of why you like it. Then your dream becomes a real thing, a true thing… and there’s no more imagining. There’s just the living of it, and that’s frightening. It’s not in your head anymore, not in your control. It’s out there in the world, breathing, pulling you along.

Ralph stared at me, hard. I put my palm to his cheek and stared back.

There’s nothing either good or bad, that thinking makes it so, he finally said.

Is that Hamlet? I asked. Or his younger brother, Omelet?

Ralph laughed and put his arms around me and I pressed my face against him, breathing in the scents of summer sun, local pub and deodorant, with that signature Ralph scent underneath. Omelet never had anything wise to say, he said. That’s why they cut his lines.

I moved to pull away, but Ralph held me there. You’re not the only one who gets frightened, Starlight, he said. But this is too good to waste by being afraid.

We stood in the semi-darkness, with the sounds of Glasgow muted outside, the hum of the refrigerator and the steady, quiet snores of Ralph’s Great Dane asleep on the couch. I slid my hands under Ralph’s shirt and felt the warm cords of muscle in his back. His hand ran over my hair, then gently pushed me away. In one smooth motion, he removed his shirt and pulled me back against him. I gasped. Ralph chuckled.

You’re so warm, I said. And…

And?

It just feels good, I said. Having you hold me like this.

Being the obliging sort, Ralph proceeded to hold me like that for some time, although he did encourage the removal of my shirt, presumably for fairness’ sake. He bent his head and kissed my shoulder, then tipped his head so he could look at me.

Uh, this is First Officer Wudnull, just wanted to let you folks know we’re working on the issue with the evacuation slide, that is being worked on and, uh, we’re hoping to have everything resolved over the next 30 minutes.

Ugh, I said, annoyed at the intrusion as well as the delay. I closed my eyes and tried to get back to the place where I’d left off, but now all that was in my head were images of Ralph in the candlelight, his shaggy head trailing along my skin, down to my toes and back again, gently kissing my—

Argh.

Might you have any chewing gum? I asked the kid next to me, who looked startled and flipped off his earphones, dropping his book on the floor. Oh, sorry, sorry, I said as he bent to pick up the book, which caused him to drop his Walkman.

No, no, what did you say? he asked.

I wondered if you had gum, I said.

Ah, yeah. I do. Just a second. Up came a backpack with about 37 pockets, and he started searching.

It’s okay, I said. If you can’t find it. No big deal.

No, I have it here and I will find it, or die trying, he said, and flashed me a nervous smile.

I’m Cassie, by the way, I said as he started in on pocket number three.

Denny, he said. He pulled out a pack of Trident, the blue kind. My least favorite. Were I a dentist, I’d be the fifth one, the one who doesn’t recommend it to my patients who chew gum. But I wasn’t a dentist; I was a beggar. And we can’t be choosers.

Thanks, I said, accepting two pieces. Denny. Not Danny, right?

No. Denny. Short for Dennis, he said, popping two pieces in his mouth and stowing the wrappers in the pocket of the seat in front of him. It’s actually my middle name.

Oh?

Yeah. My first name… he said, shaking his head as if he had no idea how to explain how awful it was. I wonder if something doesn’t happen to people’s heads when they’re responsible for naming a baby.

Yeah, I said, not wanting to ask about the offensive first name, which had clearly caused him some trauma. I didn’t consider Dennis to be a bad name, other than the Dennis the Menace stuff he probably got in elementary school. On the other hand, I wasn’t volunteering that my full first name was Cassiopeia.

Denny put his earphones back on but left the Walkman alone. He opened his book, leafed through it until he found the page he’d been on, chewed vigorously on his gum, and then looked at me.

Ralph! he said. I froze. That’s my first name, he said. Can you imagine? What were they thinking? I mean, come on, right? Ralphing? Calling Ralph on the big white phone?

I nodded slowly. Then I laughed.

His leg started jiggling again. That’s just not fair, to do that to a baby.

It took a few seconds before I could say anything. I wasn’t laughing at the name, I said. It’s just that my… boyfriend. Significant other. Whatever. The guy I’m going to live with. His name is Ralph.

Oh, said Denny. And then Oh! again.

It’s all right, I said. It just never crossed my mind that it was a bad name. I don’t think it ever crossed his mind, either.

So he goes by Ralph?

He does.

Huh. Denny chewed thoughtfully. He never got teased about it?

I don’t know, I said. He’s never said. Besides, I think kids will find something to tease you about no matter what.

He nodded. Yeah. Then he went back to his book, and I thought a little bit about the expression calling Ralph on the big white phone, and smiled and rolled my eyes. Then I pulled out a magazine and flipped through it. And, miracle of miracles, First Officer Wubble came on 15 minutes later to tell us we were good to go, and only 12th in line for takeoff.

****

The flight was like all of my overnight flights to Scotland had been. Uncomfortable, endless, boring. And sleep wasn’t coming. I was keyed up about moving and anxious about everything and even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t sleep much; if someone could design a torture device to keep people awake, it would likely be shaped like an airline seat. Even a pillow stuck between the wall and my head never worked very well. I’d wake multiple times to find my head pitching toward the seat in front of me.

I did nod off for a bit, however, and when we landed I was happy to find that I still had time to make my connecting flight. Denny was seated a few rows behind me; I waved when I got on, and he raised a hand. This flight was only about 75 minutes, and arrived in Glasgow just before 11 am.

Getting off the plane was just the beginning, of course—I had to go through Customs. I’d done it plenty of times, but it still made me nervous, as if I were doing something illegal. I’m sure I looked shifty, but really I was just excited and anxious and underslept.

Once that was over with, I attempted to make myself look presentable and then headed out through the doors to the terminal. I perversely wanted a few minutes alone before I saw Ralph, to get used to the idea of being in Scotland again. But when Ralph wasn’t in his usual place, I immediately began to worry.

He knew it was today. Of course he did. Maybe he had the wrong time?

I stood in our meeting spot, put down my bags, and watched the clock tick off three minutes.

Maybe he was stuck in traffic. Or he’d gotten a flat.

Five minutes.

I took a few deep breaths. I watched a kid with Flock of Seagulls hair say goodbye to two people I presumed were his parents.

Seven minutes.

Maybe he was stuck in a ditch, and hurt.

Ten minutes.

Stuck in the ditch and dead.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ralph ambling through the terminal as if he were in no hurry. For a few seconds I was blindingly angry at him. Then I took a deep breath and pulled it together.

There you are, I said obviously—and, I hoped, casually.

And there you are, he said, with that half-grin on his face. Do y’ have me dead by the side of the road yet?

Meaning what? I asked, trying to look confused.

Ralph laughed. Took some time to find a place to park, he said. But I—

I never found out what he was going to say, because I threw myself into his arms instead. Hi, I said. I missed you.

I’d not have guessed, he said in my ear.

I’m not much for public displays of affection, but really, airports are made for that sort of thing. People are always kissing each other or crying or kissing each other and crying, and no one pays much attention. Airports are like the beginnings and endings of everyone’s stories.

Ready to go? he asked, when we were done with the kissing part.

Ready.

Good flight? he asked, slinging my backpack over one shoulder and picking up my carry-on.

I made it here, I said. So I consider it good.

How many bags did you check?

Two, but I’m having some things shipped, I said. I only brought eleven pairs of shoes.

Only… Ralph said.

When we reached the carousel, which was already rotating, heaped with luggage, I saw Denny standing there looking lost.

Hey, I said. We made it.

Yeah, he said, not sounding altogether happy.

Ah, Denny, this is Ralph Macnair, Ralph, Denny, we met on the plane. Stuck on the ground in New York for what, an hour? I said as they shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

At least, Denny said, laughing nervously.

Oh, there are my bags! I said, moving to pull them off the carousel.

Ralph took one in each hand and looked at Denny. Where are you headed, mate? he asked.

The university, Denny said, and he seemed to have realized that he didn’t know where that was or how to get there. I have a… and off he went inside the backpack with the 37 pockets.

If you tell me which uni, we’d be happy to drop you there, Ralph said, putting down my bags as Denny began unzipping and re-zipping pockets. Glasgow? Strathclyde? Glasgow Caled—

Denny stopped, his hand still in a pocket. Strathclyde, he said. That’s it.

Minutes away, Ralph said.

Denny unzipped another pocket, slowly, as if we might not notice. He pulled out a sheet of paper and unfolded it. The Student Union, on Martha Street, he said.

Ralph nodded. Easy enough. He picked up my bags again. Denny still looked unsure, as if Ralph might whack him over the head. Ralph was already moving, so I motioned with my head to Denny to come on, already.

Did you go to Strathclyde? I said Ralph.

Nae. Taught some classes there, long ago, he said. But I dinna think they’ve moved the union.

I sighed when we reached the car. I was hoping you’d bought something shiny and red while I was gone, I said as Ralph packed the luggage in the back.

I’d never do that to her, Ralph said, patting the top of his ancient Audi station wagon. Denny, ye’re all right with dogs, then?

Ah, said Denny, peering in one of the back windows as if a hound of hell might come bounding out. I could see Ophelia sitting in the back seat, tall and blue and goofy. I waved to her and she wuffed, softly for her, but Denny looked spooked. He opened the door a crack and pushed his forearm against it for Ophelia to sniff.

The worst she’ll do is wipe off your freckles, Ralph said. He slammed the hatchback and moved to walk around to the driver’s seat, but I stopped him and kissed him thoroughly. He looked pleased, but slightly confused.

You’re a good man, I said.

Ralph smiled. We-ell, Strathclyde is on the way. I maybe wouldna be quite so accommodating were he off to the vet school, he said. He put his hand to my cheek. He looked lost, aye? And we canna have that.

The drive to Denny’s destination really did take only a few minutes, but Denny was intent on soaking up everything. So intent that when the car stopped, he didn’t move.

Is this it, then? Ralph finally asked.

Oh, right, sorry, Denny said. He and Ralph got out to remove his bags, and I heard Denny thanking Ralph and Ralph never-minding him. I rolled down the window.

Bye! I said. Nice to meet you. Have a great summer!

Bye, and thanks! he said, still looking overwhelmed, but with a gleam in his eye that I recognized: expectation. You too!

Oh, I will, I said as I watched him walk away.

The condo was only a few minutes away, and I had no idea how keyed up I was until I walked through the door and sighed with relief. Ophelia wandered off to her water bowl, and then to the couch. Ralph set my luggage in the middle of the entryway.

Welcome home, he said.

Mmmm, I said into his shirt. I soaked in the feel of him, the warmth, the heady mix of safety and excitement I felt from being so close to him.

Thirsty? Something to eat?

I’m okay.

I’ve missed you, Ralph said, and kissed me. Kisses do have a language. Some ask questions; others whisper. Some are playful and others bossy. This one was just on the edge of bossy.

Ralph, I said, trying to breathe. Ralph’s only answer was a low hum, deep in his throat. I felt his hands on either side of my face, and his mouth against mine again, and the hum got louder.

Come with me, I said, taking his hand and pulling him down the hall. I hear we have lots of pillows now.

Ralph laughed, overtaking me in the doorway. Aye, we do. See? A cornucopia of pillows.

I picked one up and tried to whack him with it, but he was too quick. The struggle that ensued was brief; I lost my weapon. I flopped onto the bed, stuck another pillow under my head and reached for him. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.

I was rewarded with a low, breathy chuckle in my ear. Not bad.

Well, a little vulgarity is okay, I said.

****

It’s good to be back, I said later. Ralph made an agreeable sort of noise. I thought I’d wait until Monday to start job hunting.

Any leads?

A few, actually; Rachel and Glen have been great about getting in touch with everyone they know. My sister and her husband were journalists, and though Rachel had been home with her kids for the past few years, she still pulled out all the stops she could to find contacts for me in the U.K.

Jo can help, said Ralph. One of Ralph’s four sisters, Jo had plenty of business connections in Glasgow through her husband, Kerr. As can I, he continued, ... if you’ll allow it.

Why wouldn’t I allow it?

Ralph sighed. I lifted it to look at him. He had the worry line going between his eyebrows, but also the dimple in one cheek from quirking his mouth at me in an affectionate sort of smirk.

Ye’re near impossible to offer help to, Starlight, he said. Ye know that.

I shrugged. I don’t mean to be.

Like a clam doesna mean to have a shell, he said.

I don’t want to feel like I owe you, I said quietly. That’s me, not you. I’m doing what I can to work on it. I looked away, toward the wall. I know I have to give it up at some point and quit being so stubborn.

I love that you’re stubborn, Ralph said, and I looked back at him, startled. It’s very Scots. He smiled. I understand, maybe more than you give me credit for. But I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance or two to show you that there’s no bad side to accepting someone’s help.

Except feeling like you owe them.

That’s only bad if you think it so, Ralph said. He turned on his side, the sheet slipping down to his hip. You could see it as an opportunity, a door opening, a chance to bring good into the world.

I could wonder if you’d been listening to a lot of that Road Less Traveled guy, I said, but I put my hand to his cheek. You’re right, though. I’m not always a glass-half-full kind of girl.

You are, sometimes, he said. Sometimes it surprises me, how full of hope you can be.

Several sarcastic remarks entered my head, all meant to lighten the mood and prevent me from having to think about what Ralph was saying. I let all of them pass. Part of my vows to myself upon moving to Scotland included taking serious things seriously and letting the moment be instead of trying to laugh it off. So I breathed, and breathed again.

A little faith goes a long way, Ralph said, leaning forward to kiss me. It takes just as much energy to believe things will go bad as it does to believe they’ll go well.

I smiled at him and he made a face. That does sound frighteningly self-helpful, aye? he said. Good God.

You should write a book, I said.

Funny you should say that, he said. I’ve been messing about with some ideas.

Will you tell me?

Aye, of course, he said. Only…

Only what? I can keep a secret.

It’s not a secret, Ralph said. I was going to say, only I have other things on my mind at the moment.

Such as?

A beautiful woman. Ralph wrapped his arms around me.

Who is she? I demanded. I’ll have to have a word with her.

Cassie, he said in my ear, sending chills along the left side of my body. Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?

I… I’m starting to, I managed.

Good.

Chapter 2

Aut pax aut bellum

Either peace or war

Clan Gunn

I settled in to life with Ralph, and he to life with me. It reminded me of my first visit, in a way; back then I’d been terrified too, coming to see a man with whom I’d spent mere days. I had told my father that I was visiting friends; I didn’t want him to worry, but I also didn’t want to hear the parental litany of Do you really think that’s a good idea? and How much do you really know about this man? and "You said he’s how old, again?"

But after settling in, like that first time, Ralph and I got along madly. I recognized it for what it was—the newness of love, the part that never seems to become watered down or lose its magic, no matter how many times it happens. It was like the first real spring day after a long winter, or that first step into a fragrant pine forest. I cherished it for the gift it was and tried to hold on to each day as long as I could.

After about six weeks, reality hit. I found myself in crisis. I had no job and no real prospects. One night, with Ralph not around to keep me level headed, I worked myself up into a froth of anxiety and second-guessing. Then, to top it all off, I made an international phone call during peak hours.

I guess I had this idea that I would get here and something would just happen, I said to my best friend Leslie. She was in the Washington, D.C. suburbs, lying in bed and listening to me babble 4,000 miles away.

You’re not just waiting, though. For something to happen, she said. Leslie was used to my constant analysis, my frequent need to complain and my near-obsessive quest to Understand Things, particularly things that had to do with relationships.

No, of course not, I said. You know. I’ve talked to everyone, all the names people gave me, even when I was sure I was just taking the name to be polite. Ralph’s talked to people, and his sister has, and it’s just not happening.

You have time.

I do, but it doesn’t look good, I said. The job market here is really tight.

So what are you going to do?

I sighed. I don’t know, I said, opening the door to the balcony and stepping out. It was a cool summer night in Glasgow. The condo was on the third floor, and had a sweeping view of Park Circus, with trees and a glimpse of the River Kelvin beyond.

Are things okay otherwise? With Ralph? Leslie asked.

Things are great with Ralph, I said. Except I’m completely taking advantage of him.

Oh, come on.

Here I am in a condo that’s not mine, I started. Nothing here is mine. He won’t let me pay rent. He thinks I should take a class in the fall, but all I can think of is what it would cost.

You have to live, though, Leslie said. Not just survive and hope.

I know, I said, leaning against the wrought iron railing and running my hand along the bars. A siren sounded close by; I jumped and covered the mouthpiece of the phone, waiting for the shrieking noise to fade.

Sorry about that, I said. Crazy rule-breaking Scots.

Are you outside? Leslie asked.

On the balcony.

Is Ralph there?

He’s auditioning. He should be home soon, I said.

Do you talk with Ralph about feeling stuck?

I sighed again. I don’t want to make things more stressful. He’s been busy, and preparing for fall… and sometimes I feel like I’m in the way.

What if he asked you to marry him? Would that change the way you feel about any of this?

Don’t go there, Marlon.

It’s a natural question.

I am not going to force him to think about marriage, I said. It worked out so well the first time.

I could visualize Leslie rolling her eyes. You wouldn’t be forcing him, she said. You’ve said it yourself: He wants to marry you; he just doesn’t think you’re ready.

Well, I’m not ready. At least I don’t think I am. I don’t know. How would I know? How would I know I wasn’t just saying yes because I couldn’t find a job?

Because you know, Leslie. said.

I heard a noise inside; Ralph was walking across the living room.

Ralph’s back… I’m going to go, I said.

Talk to him, Leslie said. I made a noncommittal noise. Bye sweetie, she said. Love you.

Love you too, I said, and hung up. I squared my shoulders and went inside. Hello? I called.

In the kitchen, Ralph said. He was standing at the counter watching the toaster, but turned when I came in. He looked tired.

Hi, I said, walking up to kiss him. "How did

Reviews for Scotland By Starlight

[forsix · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

It has been a while since my last visit with Cassie and her knight in acting armor Ralph in A Scottish Ferry Tale. I missed them. This sequel starts with Cassie’s move across the pond to Scotland to begin her life with Ralph. They are disgustingly in love. And they make sure they tell each other that. Repeatedly. In sickeningly sweet detail. As if we would ever forget how much them mean to each other and want to be together. Forever. And when they aren’t talking about love, they are doing it. Thankfully not in detail.One thing that bugged me about this novel is the lack of conflict. Things happened, but nothing that propels me to turn the pages. It was an account of the day-to-day life of a couple annoyingly in love with each other. I was going to write this off as the type of novel to read when I need a jolt of heartwarming romance. Well written, yes but simple of plot. A straightforward romance about a girl taking a chance on love when it’s not much of a chance at all because her beau loves her with the same fierce intensity. That is, I was thinking that until I got to the epilogue. Wow, that changed everything for me.Ms. Volkers gave her readers the mother of all shocks. It’s this I can write pages about. I loved it. LOVED IT. Although I was not moved to tears, it did give me a new enjoyment for the story. I treasured Cassie and Ralph as a couple. I loved their love. I cherished their happy ending.My final take? If you are looking for romance, I suggest you read this book, but don’t read the epilogue. Ms. Volkers is a romantic wordsmith. I have so many passages written down, things I’m totally going to steal for my own wedding vows (when that day comes, of course). But if you want a bit of heart-wrenching tingly goodness, read it through to the end. I guarantee you will fall for Ralph as well and see why Cassie truly loves him.