McGregor's Ring

Summer in Ohio always felt too bright, too loud, too humid. The kind of heat that clung to your skin and made the air shimmer above the pavement. But inside the small apartment she shared with her best friend, Kelsey sat at their tiny kitchen table, staring at her laptop with wide green eyes.

Her red hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and she twisted her silver promise ring nervously as she reread the email for the third time.

You’re the best student I’ve had in years. Go in my place. Learn everything you can. —Dr. Rowan

Her breath caught. Dunbeath Castle. Scotland. A two‑week research program. Her dream.

Dream was a small word for it.

At sixteen, Kelsey had stopped letting herself want things. Her parents had died on a gray March evening, when a truck lost its brakes on the interstate outside Dayton and crossed the median, and it had taken the state police six hours to find someone to tell her. She remembered almost nothing about the funeral except the weight of a thin silver ring on her finger. Her mother had pressed it into her hand on her sixteenth birthday, three weeks before. For when you’re ready to make a promise, she had said. Kelsey had made hers at the graveside: that she would give herself whole, and only once, to someone who would wait.

The ring had never left her hand since. It was the one thing in the apartment she would have run back into a fire for.

Ashley’s family had taken her in that same week. Ashley’s mother, Linda, had cleared out a sewing room and set a new toothbrush on the sink without a word. Her father, Tom, had driven her to Miller’s Diner for every Saturday shift for two years. Kelsey had saved every tip, and added them to what little was left of her parents’ estate and to every scholarship she could fight for, and she had paid her own way, semester by semester, all the way to a master’s thesis and the best recommendation Dr. Rowan had ever written. She had never been farther from Ohio than the Michigan lakeshore.

She had never expected to be anyone’s first choice.

She read the email a fourth time.

Her phone buzzed.

Ashley.

Lunch? I’m starving. And you sounded weird this morning. Spill.

Kelsey grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

The Diner

Miller’s Diner smelled like coffee, bacon, and nostalgia. Red vinyl booths lined the walls, and a jukebox that hadn’t worked in decades sat in the corner like a forgotten relic.

Ashley waved her over, brunette hair bouncing, blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. She wore fitted jeans and a cropped white tee that made half the diner look twice. Kelsey, in her modest cream blouse and long skirt, slid into the booth across from her.

“You look like a librarian on her lunch break,” Ashley teased.

Kelsey’s cheeks warmed. “I like being comfortable.”

Ashley leaned forward. “Okay. What’s going on? You’ve been weird since breakfast.”

Kelsey swallowed. “I… got an email.”

Ashley’s eyebrows shot up. “From who?”

Kelsey turned her laptop around.

Ashley read the message once. Twice. Then she shrieked so loudly the waitress jumped.

“Kelsey. You’re going to Scotland.”

Kelsey pressed her palm to her chest. “I can’t believe he picked me.”

Ashley grabbed her shoulders. “Of course he picked you. You’re brilliant. You’re the only person I know who reads medieval chronicles for fun.”

Before Kelsey could respond, a shadow fell across the table.

A man — mid‑thirties, tall, wearing a mechanic’s shirt — leaned on the booth with a grin that tried too hard.

“Well hey there,” he said. “Didn’t mean to overhear, but sounds like someone’s going on a big trip.”

Ashley’s smile turned polite but firm. “Just celebrating.”

He winked. “Maybe I could buy you ladies dessert?”

Kelsey pressed back against the vinyl, fingers gripping the table edge. “No thank you.”

Ashley’s voice cut sharp. “She said no.”

The man blinked, taken aback, then shrugged and walked away.

Kelsey exhaled shakily. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Ashley squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to know. That’s why you have me.”

Kelsey looked down at her ring — silver, simple, worn smooth from years of nervous twisting. She’d made a vow in high school to save herself for marriage, and she’d worn the ring every day since as a quiet reminder. It wasn’t something she talked about much.

Ashley softened. “This is going to change your life, Kels.”

Kelsey swallowed. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Ashley said gently. “But you’re ready.”

Day Two — Shopping

The next morning, Kelsey stepped out of her bedroom wearing faded jeans and her favorite T‑shirt — the one that read He Lives with a picture of the stone rolled away from Jesus’ tomb. Her red hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and she twisted her promise ring nervously.

Ashley looked up from the couch. “Oh my gosh. You’re wearing the resurrection shirt.”

Kelsey’s cheeks warmed. “It’s comfortable.”

Ashley grinned. “It’s adorable. Very ‘Kelsey goes to youth group.’ Come on. We’re shopping.”

They hit the mall hard — coats, sweaters, scarves, boots. Ashley insisted on layers; Kelsey insisted on modest cuts. They met in the middle more often than not.

The Passport Panic

Halfway through the coat section, Ashley froze.

“Kels… do you have your passport?”

Kelsey blinked. “My… what?”

Ashley’s blue eyes widened. “Your passport. For Scotland.”

Kelsey’s stomach tightened. “Ashley… I don’t think I’ve ever applied for one.”

Ashley stared at her. “You’re leaving in four days.”

Kelsey whispered, “I didn’t think about it.”

Ashley grabbed her shoulders. “Okay. Don’t panic. We can fix this.”

They drove to the passport office in Dayton, the car filled with nervous silence and Ashley’s determined muttering.

The clerk flipped through the paperwork. “Expedited processing… two to three weeks.”

Kelsey’s breath hitched. “I leave in four days.”

The clerk shrugged sympathetically. “We’ll do what we can.”

Ashley squeezed her arm. “It’ll come. I promise.”

They left with shaky relief and a receipt that felt more like a prayer than a guarantee.

Between Stores — Dunbeath Castle

Back at the mall, while Ashley hunted for wool socks, Kelsey sat on a bench and pulled out her phone.

She typed Dunbeath Castle Caithness history.

A photo loaded — a stone archway carved with sweeping antlers, weathered by centuries of wind. Something about it made her chest tighten.

She scrolled.

McGregor clan presence in Caithness… lost chronicle rumored missing since the 1700s… sealed room mentioned in a 19th‑century letter…

Her pulse quickened.

Ashley returned with socks. “What are you reading?”

Kelsey turned the screen toward her. “Look. Dunbeath has a stag archway. And there’s a reference to a sealed room. And a chronicle that went missing.”

Ashley squinted. “Creepy.”

Kelsey tucked her chin, a shy little motion she didn’t even realize she did. “I just… love this stuff.”

Ashley nudged her. “I know. And Scotland’s going to love you.”

Day Three — Packing

The apartment was a mess of sweaters, boots, travel bottles, and snacks. Ashley rolled clothes with military precision while Kelsey folded hers into soft squares that took up half the suitcase.

“Kels,” Ashley said, holding up a sweater, “this is not how we pack.”

Kelsey frowned. “I’m trying.”

Ashley softened. “I know. But you pack like you’re hiding evidence.”

Kelsey laughed weakly. “I just want everything to fit.”

Ashley rolled the sweater into a perfect cylinder. “See? Easy.”

But as they packed, Ashley noticed Kelsey’s hands trembling.

“Kels,” she said gently, “you’re scared.”

Kelsey swallowed. “I’ve never traveled alone. I’ve never left the country. I’ve never been away from you.”

Ashley sat beside her. “You don’t have to be like me. You just have to be you.”

Kelsey whispered, “What if I mess everything up?”

Ashley squeezed her hand. “You won’t. And even if you do, I’ll fix it from here.”

Kelsey’s eyes shimmered. “I feel so small.”

Ashley brushed a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Quiet isn’t small. Quiet is observant. Quiet is deep. Quiet is you.”

Day Four — The Night Before Departure

The apartment felt heavier that night.

Kelsey wore khaki shorts and a burgundy button‑up shirt, the top two buttons undone just enough to show her small silver cross necklace. Her red hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and she twisted her promise ring as she stared at her packed suitcase.

Ashley patted the couch. “Come here. Last roommate night before Scotland.”

They curled up under a blanket, sharing ice cream, watching their favorite cheesy romance movie. Halfway through, Ashley paused the screen.

“Kels… I’m proud of you.”

Kelsey’s throat tightened. “Ashley…”

“No, listen. You’re gentle. You’re thoughtful. You’re steady. And tomorrow, you’re going to Scotland to chase your dream. That’s brave.”

Kelsey blinked back tears. “Thank you.”

Ashley hugged her tightly. “Always.”

Later, after Ashley went to bed, Kelsey checked her email one last time.

Passport Status: Approved. Mail by 08/07.

Relief washed through her so sharply she had to sit down.

She touched her cross necklace. She twisted her promise ring. She whispered a quiet prayer.

If she dreamed that night, she didn’t remember it in the morning.