Naked Hero - The Journey Away

‘Macleod of Lewis’ to give it its proper name, because that’s where the clan hails from – your ancestral home – your dad’s original home before he moved to Ayr. This tartan is something that links you to him, passed down from father to son. It’s part of your heritage, just like these other shirts are part of a heritage. And don’t you think for one second that you’re not worthy of wearing it. Your dad would have been so proud to see you walking onto that court tomorrow, but nothing would have made him more proud than to see you in this.”
    She walked over and crouched beside him, putting her arm around his shoulders and wiped away the tears that flowed freely down his cheeks.
    “Perhaps it’s something you can keep special and put it on when you’re ready.”
    “Aye, when I’m ready.”
    Fiona got up and walked back over to where Lee still stood. She kissed him gently on the cheek and whispered her thanks. She then went over to Jim and took him by the arm and led him away. As she left, she looked at Lee, who stood immobile, unsure if he should also take his leave, but she indicated for him to stay.
    It took Lewis a few minutes before he pulled himself together, and looked up at Lee with a smile. “It’s a bit on the busy side, isn’t it?” he said, nodding to the black and tan pattern. “How did you find it?”
    “Easy enough,” replied Lee, as movement returned to him and he joined Lewis at the table. “I pulled up the clan on the internet. There are quite a few different tartans you can wear, special ones for when you’re hunting, and going into battle. I was tempted to pick the battle one, but I asked Fiona which to use if I was going to get something made for you - I didn’t say what. She told me this one. ‘The Macleod of Lewis’, stressing the ancient version – the modern equivalent has gaudy yellow instead of tan – now that really was a busy little number. No wonder they nickname it the Loud Macleod!” Lee let out a snigger that quickly stopped. “Sorry ...I didn’t mean to upset you with it. I should have asked first.”
    “No. It’s great – thanks,” choked Lewis. “Not for tomorrow, though. The Aussies would definitely think I was taking the piss. I’d look like Mel Gibson in Braveheart. We’ll stick with the Aboriginal ones. They’re fabulous - as are you for doing this... So you didn’t get out last night?”
    “Too busy!” declared Lee. “I’m getting a bit sick of it all anyway. How was your night?”
    “Interesting!” Lewis answered as another liberal dose of guilt twisted his stomach – he really needed to sort that out. “Jim’s going to retire apparently. He’s talked to Scott about taking over as my coach.”
    “Yeah, Fiona mentioned it. What do you think?”
    “I’m not sure. It’s probably for the best, but...”
    “It is,” insisted Lee with a slap on Lewis’s shoulder. “You should be happy. Perhaps you did find it in Melbourne - what you were looking for.”
    The lad looked again at the fabric – The Loud Macleod that screamed of home – here in Melbourne. What a journey he had taken to have come so far, and for the first time in a decade, to feel so close. Doubts raging, he jerked away. “Perhaps... Are you going to stay for dinner? Chantal and Marie are coming over later.”
    “Sure,” agreed Lee, who then set about returning the shirts to the bag.
    “Good...” said Lewis, still looking at the tartan that Lee left till last. And with guilt still gnawing for some undefined reason he decided to try and alleviate it. “...Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Didn’t you mention something about a favour you might need, a big one at that. I certainly owe it to you now. What was it? You can have anything you like for doing this.”
    With his back to the lad, Lee closed his eyes and bit his lip. No! That was too selfish to ask for. Only the best man could make such a request, and Lee felt far from that. “Wear the shirts, Lewis, and win the title. I don’t want anything else,” he said instead.
    Lewis shrugged his shoulders. “Fair enough – if that’s all you want then I’ll happily oblige. Let’s go outside and you can tell me all the other ideas you have. I like this one, the small company, one that I can work with rather than just be used by. It feels right. My agents wouldn’t have done that. They would have gone for the obvious money. But it’s not always about the money, is it?”
    “No... I think I’ve