Rachel frowned at the young woman. “But isn’t he Father Andrew’s brother?”
“Aye. But he missed the wedding, and he was supposed to be the best man. What kind of brother does that? No one trusts him.” Amy chewed on her lip for a moment. “I wonder if I should start locking up the General Store. We’ve gone to the honor system since I had baby Wills. I leave the store unlocked in case anyone needs anything while I’m away. All ye have to do is write down what ye take and either leave yere money then or pay later. It’s worked well for us all these months. But what if Tuck decides to rob that, too?”
“Surely, he wouldn’t.” Rachel was feeling sorrier by the minute for Tuck MacBride. Maybe she should’ve gone to the pub with him. She could sympathize with him, knowing how the villagers didn’t take to outsiders.
But Brodie’s angry face invaded her mind, chasing her innocent thought of Tuck away.
Rachel kept her sentiments to herself and plucked up her notebook from her sewing machine. She retrieved Hannah before she ate all the cookies and told the quilters good-bye. As they stepped into Thistle Glen Lodge, Rachel got a text from her mother.
She turned to Hannah. “Grandma is flying in tomorrow.”
Her daughter’s mood amped up another notch.
But Rachel wasn’t feeling the same as Hannah. With her mother in town, Rachel anticipated a whole new set of problems were about to come to life and there was no way to prepare for what could happen next. She just wished she could speak with Brodie about it. When Vivienne Granger made an appearance, things were bound to get a thousand times more complicated.
It took a while to get Hannah settled in for the night. Thank goodness Sadie had the foresight to drop off a selection of picture books. Sadie also left some novels for Rachel. Her stack included popular women’s fiction, some quilting fiction, and a romance with a cottage on the front. Though Rachel had plenty to do for Quilting Central, she took the romance out to the sofa and escaped until the out-of-town quilters arrived back at the dorm. Rachel put her book down and hopped up to wait on them until they were settled in for the night, too. Rachel didn’t mind helping. Hospitality and the hotel business were in her blood. Keeping busy also kept Brodie off her mind. Really.
The dorm was becoming quiet. Rachel picked up the novel, but couldn’t concentrate, feeling too restless to settle in for the night just yet. With her mother coming tomorrow, she felt overwhelmed with what was left to do. Like work on Abraham’s Christmas present. She checked to make sure Hannah was asleep and then she knocked on the bedroom door of the two sisters from Edinburgh.
“Do you mind if I leave Hannah? I want to head back to Quilting Central to get some more done.” Abraham’s present wasn’t the only thing left on her list.
Bessie, the older sister, stood at the desk and smiled at her warmly, holding up her rotary cutter and fabric. “Ye go on. We were going to do some fussy cuts before we go to bed. We’ll listen for the lass.”
“Thank you.” There were advantages to her daughter being used to daycare and spending time alone in their hotel room. Hannah was resourceful. If she woke up, her daughter would simply wake the quilters for help. They’d all taken a shine to her, each one comparing her to their own granddaughters. Besides, Rachel wouldn’t be gone too long.
She grabbed her coat and hurried to Quilting Central, learning from Amy that the building was being kept open as it was so close to Christmas.
When Rachel arrived, Cait was the only one there, sitting behind her sewing machine.
“Couldn’t sleep?” her new friend asked.
“I need to work on Abraham’s Christmas present. Do you mind if I use the copier to print a few pictures?”
“Help yereself. Photo paper is in the bottom drawer.”
Rachel walked over to her. “What are you working on?”
Cait smiled, clipped a thread, and then held up a miniature Christmas stocking made up of baby blue, soft violet, and yellow blocks.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Aye. It’s how I’m going to surprise Graham. But I still want to keep it a secret after that.” She paused and looked away sadly. “Just in case, ye know . . . if something happens.” She looked up at Rachel. “So you see why I wanted to work on it late . . . after everyone else left.”
“I understand completely. I’ll leave you to it.”
“I was just finishing up.” Cait stood and stretched. She was looking a little pregnant around the middle.
“Is there anything I should do when I’m done here?” Rachel asked.
“Just turn out the lights to conserve electricity.”
“And the door?”
“Leave it unlocked, in case someone else has insomnia and decides to stitch her worries away.”
Rachel’s predicament exactly. It was nice of Cait not to speculate or question her as to what was keeping her from sleeping. Cait was perceptive so she must’ve known it was Brodie.
They said good night, Cait left, and Rachel got down to business, transferring photos from her phone to the computer by the copier. Surely one of them, taken on their first day, would be good. But when the first picture came up, she gulped. She, Hannah, and Abraham were smiling at the lens, but Brodie . . . was staring intently at her. While hitting the zoom button, she leaned in closer to see if his gaze held love, hate, or if he felt complete indifference toward her. She sighed. That was longing on his face. Hope soared through her heart like a gull winging over the ocean, more hope than she’d let herself have since she’d arrived in Gandiegow.
But this picture would never do for a family portrait for Abraham. She clicked through the next three images. Brodie was staring straight ahead in these, no smile, his mouth set in a determined line as if bearing up against an untimely storm. Rachel chose one, enlarged it to fit the paper in Deydie’s bottom desk drawer, and hit the print button.
From the copier, like a metaphor for rebuilding her relationship with Brodie, the picture came together a pixel at a time. When it was completely printed, she could see their life together more clearly. His obstinate behavior had been chipping away at her dream, but now she felt reenergized. Because no one else was at Quilting Central, Rachel selected the picture of Brodie staring at her and shrank the picture to the size of the locket which hung around her neck. She located Deydie’s paper scissors, which were clearly marked with DO NOT REMOVE! Rachel carefully cut out the picture of him and her.
She looked around one more time to make sure she was alone and unclasped the necklace. She wouldn’t be so bold as to cover up the picture of one of Brodie’s parents, but she did pop out the picture of his mother to place the picture of them behind it. Now Rachel had what she truly desired close to her heart.
She borrowed an empty folder from Deydie’s desk and slipped the large family picture inside. In the morning, she’d talk to the head quilter about locating a piece of MacFarlane tartan, Abraham’s clan, for which to make the frame. She laid the folder by her sewing machine, satisfied to have made some headway on the Christmas present. Yawning, she let herself out of Quilting Central, turning off the lights on her way.
But when she stepped outside, her eye caught a figure ducking between the buildings as if he didn’t want to be seen. She thought about Amy’s report of the things which had gone missing. For a second longer, Rachel waited to see if the person would reemerge. For surely if it was one of the townsfolk, they would make themselves known. But when he didn’t appear, she headed for the quilting dorm. She was more intrigued than afraid, but nonetheless, she was happy for the streetlamps and a well-lit path back to Thistle Glen Lodge.
* * *
Brodie stalked toward The Fisherman, Gandiegow’s pub, feeling relieved to have made it back to town without doing something stupid . . . like confide in his mother about what had been going on with Rachel. He shivered. He hadn’t answered his mother’s questions before, and he
wouldn’t now as to how her locket had ended up with the Yank. He was just going to wait it out until Rachel left, then he’d get on with his life. What was a little more pain?
He’d waited six years before . . . hiding out at Here Again Farm where the memories of Joe’s widow shouldn’t have been able to find him. But he’d thought about Rachel every day. Hell, every hour. Even worse was what he did after Joe had died. Rachel was on his mind in ways he shouldn’t have allowed, things he couldn’t admit to anyone. He envisioned how the two of them could be together now that his cousin was gone. The guilt from those thoughts alone kept him from finding Rachel after Joe’s death. Plus, his grandda’s constant reminder that women can’t be trusted had reinforced his stance over the years afterward. But Brodie never stopped fantasizing about her, and he hated himself for it.
He pulled open the door and stepped into the noise of the pub, pausing to take it all in. Lochie was playing guitar in the corner. Coll was delivering food. As usual, Bonnie was passing out drinks and zeroed in on him the second he walked in. She was always looking at him as if she was chocolate deprived and he was a Cadbury bar. Most of the tables were full, and for a moment, Brodie felt calmed. There was safety in numbers, and being around the townsfolk would help him not to think about Rachel. Also, being here was going to keep him from rushing to the quilting dorm to find her and kiss her again. And again. Though that’s what he effing well wanted. The good news was there was no chance of Rachel showing up at the pub this late with Hannah in bed for the night.
God, he liked that little girl Hannah. She made him laugh. She seemed to have gotten the best of Joe and the best of Rachel.
Brodie’s chest clenched. He hated that some small thought of Rachel could tear him up so easily. He couldn’t have it both ways. He couldn’t have Joe’s widow and hold on to his principles. He’d gotten burned once and he’d learned his lesson. He wasn’t stupid enough to have a go at her again.
Brodie made his way to the bar, but was stopped with a hand on his shoulder.
“Join us.” Gabe pointed to an empty table nearby. Behind Gabe was his father, Casper, who had moved here after Moira and Andrew’s wedding. The retired reverend relished in watching his grandchildren, but had quickly become active in the community, too. He helped Father Andrew at the kirk with everything from maintenance on the furnace to being a sounding board for next Sunday’s service.
“Sure.” Brodie took a seat and so did Gabe.
“I’ll get our drinks,” Casper said. “No sense in making Bonnie wait on us.”
“I’ll take a whisky,” Gabe said.
“Irn Bru,” Brodie added.
Gabe nodded. “Change mine to Irn Bru, also.”
“Ye sure?” Casper said to his son.
“Aye. Early morning. I’m needed at the North Sea Valve Company to check a motor on one of the lines.” It was interesting—and their good fortune—that the town’s physician was also a damned good mechanic.
Casper nodded and left them.
Brodie pointed to the retired pastor. “He seems happy and settled here.” It felt good to hang out with Gabe and not discuss Abraham’s deteriorating health.
Gabriel laughed. “Da is happier than the Pope on Sunday; retirement agrees with him. It agrees with me and Emma, too. We’re able to get out by ourselves some. Dominic and Claire are making use of his grandda babysitting services, also. I’m so glad he’s here.”
“When will his cottage be started?” Brodie knew Casper had been sharing a room with his grandson Angus in the small doctor’s quarters.
“Mr. Sinclair says he’ll start construction in the early spring. A cozy two-bedroom will be just the thing to let Da rest between playing with the grandbairns.”
“Gandiegow is certainly expanding.” Brodie thought about all the new faces since he’d left six years ago, plus all those who were no longer here—either moved away or had passed on. Rhona, his old schoolteacher, moved to Dundee to help her daughter. There were a few deaths, too—Kenneth Campbell, Moira’s da, who had recently died, and Joe. Life had a way of changing and moving forward whether you wanted it to or not.
Gabe was talking.
“What?” Brodie asked.
“I said, when I get a free moment tomorrow, I’ll check the timing on yere boat’s engine.”
“I’d appreciate it. It sounds a bit off.”
“Sure.”
The door to the pub opened. Ross, Sadie, and Grace appeared. But whereas Ross and Sadie continued their conversation and walked in, Grace stopped suddenly, gazing across the room as if a rock star was in their midst. Brodie followed to where she looked and was surprised at who she mooned over—Gabe’s da, Casper MacGregor.
Casper had stopped, too, about three feet from the table and stared at her, a grin starting in his eyes and expanding across his face. A look back at Grace said her temporary paralysis had lifted; she was glancing side to side as if going to make a run for it.
The retired reverend’s eyes dropped to the drinks in his hands as if he only just remembered they were there. He set them on the table and walked toward Grace with determination, giving no explanation to them first. He caught up to her before she could flee.
“Did ye know about this?” Brodie asked Gabe.
“What?”
Brodie nodded toward Gabe’s father, Grace, and the door. “Grace Armstrong and yere da.”
Gabe looked in their direction. “No. I didn’t. It’s interesting, though. Growing up, the single women of the kirk were always vying for my father’s attention. My mum died when I was a baby, ye see. But he never dated, not once. He always seemed too busy with church business to worry about the women clucking around him. Of course, Dominic and I were always up to some trouble or another.” Gabe laughed, but then seemed thoughtful for a moment. “It might be nice for him to have some companionship.”
But Grace seemed torn. Casper looked back at their table a couple of times while he was talking. Brodie suspected he was trying to get Grace to join them. Finally she left him to sit with Ross and Sadie, who were laughing, their heads together in the back corner booth.
Casper returned and sat down, but not before he glanced one more time at Grace.
“When did that happen?” Gabe asked.
“What?” Casper said, more than a little distracted.
“Grace Armstrong.”
“Oh, aye. Grace and I had a nice visit after Andrew and Moira’s wedding.” With his eyebrows pulled together, Casper sipped his drink, no smile on his face now.
“Ye couldn’t get her to join us?” Gabe asked.
“She said she wants to sit with her son.”
But Ross seemed totally engrossed in conversation with his wife, Sadie, while Grace looked miserable.
Casper pushed his drink back and stood. “I think I’ll take a walk.”
“Night, Da,” Gabriel said.
Casper nodded to them. He didn’t look again in the direction of where Grace sat, but Brodie was pretty sure he was thinking about her as he trudged out the door.
Not ten seconds later, Grace rose, weaved her way through the crowd, and slipped out the door, too. Brodie decided maybe he wasn’t the only one in Gandiegow who was having problems.
Chapter Nine
Once outside, Grace skimmed the area to make sure no one saw her before running after Casper. He was heading between the buildings, probably back to the doctor’s quarters. She had to explain why she couldn’t sit with him in public. She caught up with him before he reached the other side of the wynd.
“Wait. Please.”
He stopped and turned.
She was a little out of breath, not because of running but because of the adrenaline flooding her system. “I want to talk.”
Casper raised an eyebrow. “Ye didn’t want to a few minutes ago. Why wouldn’t ye sit with me?”
She chewed her lip. “My son was in the pub.”
“So? Mine was as well.”
“It wouldn’t be right,” Grace said.
Casper reached for her, his large hand feeling warm in hers, making her feel safe, secure. “When I heard ye were moving here, I’d hoped we could see each other.” He looked down at her hand and then brought his eyes up to meet hers. “I want to court ye, Grace.”
Part of her wanted that, too. But she’d been over it a million times in her mind. She couldn’t. She had to think of her sons. What of their feelings? Surely they would see her dating Casper as betraying their father, who’d died four years ago. She felt like she was betraying Alistair, too.
Casper squeezed her hand and gazed into her eyes, making her lose focus. He was such a kind and good man, a man any woman would want. For him to proclaim he wanted to court her? The thought made her breath hitch. He sealed the deal by leaning in and kissing her. Not the kiss on the cheek he’d given her when they’d parted after Andrew and Moira’s wedding. But a real kiss. A proper kiss. A kiss that had her feeling all kinds of things she assumed she would never feel again. She felt like butter heated up and poured over fresh-from-the-oven bread. When her stomach began to ache and she wanted more of him, Casper pulled away.
He searched her eyes. “What do ye say?”
“All right,” she heard herself whisper. But then her senses partially returned. “But I don’t want anyone to know.”
He frowned at her, but softened it by resting his hand on her back. “I don’t like it, Grace.”
She laid her hand on his cheek, but couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Just give me some time.” It was a plea, but also, it was a lie. Time wouldn’t change anything.
He kissed her again, but seconds later, she pulled away.
“I have to get home.” She wasn’t a young lass anymore—not like when she married the boys’ father and could do whatever she wanted.
“Okay.” But Casper had a determined gleam in his eyes which said he wasn’t giving up.
It Happened in Scotland Page 14
