As if she’d summoned him, Brodie stepped from the wheelhouse onto the deck of his boat. Their eyes locked, and once again, she didn’t understand how he could disregard their connection.
Vivienne followed where she gazed, then back to Rachel, raising that eyebrow. Apparently, Rachel and Brodie’s connection was obvious to her mother.
Hannah skipped ahead to the path leading between the buildings.
Vivienne watched and waited until her little ears were out of range. “So you’ve taken up with him again.”
If only that were true. “I don’t want to talk about it, Mother.”
“I must’ve hit the nail on the head if I’m Mother now.”
Brodie walked off in the opposite direction, toward home.
For a moment, Rachel considered confiding in her mom—she did want a relationship with Brodie . . . but he wasn’t interested. But what good would the admission do? It had only caused friction between her and her mom six years ago.
Vivienne raised her nose in the air. “The truth is, darling, I don’t believe Brodie is good enough for you. He never has been.”
Rachel tamped down the truth to keep it from bubbling up. Now wasn’t the time to bring up Joe’s shortcomings—his wandering eye and philandering body parts. Sure, Rachel had stood up to a few people here in Gandiegow, but confronting her mother seemed impossible. Mom was a force of nature, and if Rachel was being completely honest, she didn’t want to disappoint her. Vivienne loved Joe. But if her mother knew the truth, she’d be just as upset with Rachel for putting up with a man who stepped out on her. It was best to let it go. Water under the bridge. Joe was dead.
“Can we talk about something else?”
Her mother told her about all the gifts in her suitcase that she’d bought for Hannah in Edinburgh. “I’m having a coat and hat made in her father’s tartan, too. I need to get her measurements while I’m here. Can we do that at Quilting Central? I want her to have it for when she gets home to Chicago.”
But the thought of going home wasn’t appealing to Rachel. In fact, it made her a little sick to her stomach. Sure, she had challenges here—Brodie not forgiving her and Deydie giving her a hard time every other second. But the village was once again feeling like home. The way it had six years ago when she’d been here before.
But then Rachel remembered what lay ahead for her in an hour from now. The community was going to hate her for sure after this.
* * *
Back at the cottage, Brodie cleaned up for the Christmas Eve service as quickly as he could so he could see to his grandfather before heading out. Though Grandda was a little better today, Doc insisted he needed to stay out of the cold and rest at home. While Brodie was cutting slices of cheese for his grandfather, Dominic knocked on the back door and stepped in.
Brodie had to do a double take. He had a tray of sandwiches in his hands, but strapped to his chest was baby Nessa. “Ye have a helper, I see.”
“Claire needed an extra minute so Nessa decided to come along on the delivery. Here, let’s get the sandwiches put away.”
Brodie took the tray and slid it into the refrigerator while Nessa laughed at the silly face he made at her.
“Basil soup is in the wagon. Do you mind getting it? Just plug in the Crock-Pot and it’ll be hot for later.”
“I appreciate this. Especially making extra at the last minute.”
“No problem. So how are you holding up with having so much family in town?”
Brodie skipped over the question. “We both better hurry so we aren’t late for the service.”
Dominic and Nessa left. Brodie finished slicing cheese and set the tray next to Abraham. “I’ll be back soon.”
Grandda nodded and Brodie left, too.
If he timed this just right, Rachel and her family would already be seated at the kirk before he arrived. If Grandda were there, he’d insist the Granger females join him in the family pew. But as it was, Rachel didn’t know where his family had sat for generations.
When the service was about to start, he slipped inside. But when he looked into the sanctuary, he didn’t see Rachel, her mother, or Hannah. Father Andrew nodded as if he better take his seat. But before Brodie stepped in, the door to the kirk flew open and Hannah came tripping in, unzipping her coat. She wore a red velvet dress, black tights, and black patent leather shoes. When she saw Brodie, she broke into a huge grin.
“I ran so I wouldn’t be late,” she said too loudly for church, but the starting music drowned out her last words. She rushed to Brodie and hugged him. He couldn’t help himself; he scooped her into his arms. The lass has gotten under my skin.
“Are ye ready to sit?” he said quietly.
“Aye.”
The door opened and the two well-put-together Granger women came in gracefully. Abraham was right; Vivienne Granger was handsome. And her daughter was lethal. Was Rachel trying to kill him with how good she looked in black velvet?
Vivienne set her overnight case at the entrance, but not before giving Brodie a disapproving nod. Brodie walked down the aisle, figuring the women would follow him since he was carrying the girl. It wasn’t until all eyes were on him before he realized he should’ve had Hannah walk on her own. The way the villagers were watching him, they were certainly placing bets on when he and Rachel would wed.
But that wasn’t his only issue. By carrying Hannah in, he’d ordained where all four of them were to sit. He put the little lass down at his family pew. He started to tell her to slide in but that would leave him sitting next to one of the Granger women. He took his seat first, then Hannah, Vivienne, and Rachel. With them lined up all cozy like this, speculation would run rampant.
They rose immediately as the processional started. Brodie sang “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful” from memory, using the familiar song to calm the tension caused by his pew mates.
Vivienne tugged on Rachel’s arm. “There’s Graham Buchanan.”
Graham and Mattie scooted in next to Cait directly in front of them.
“I know, Mom,” Rachel whispered back. “Don’t make a big deal.”
Brodie had to admire Rachel that she took the town’s commitment to Graham seriously. Vivienne would not win any points by trying to get Graham’s autograph during the Christmas Eve service.
Brodie put the two women to his left out of his mind. When the service was nearly over, Father Andrew nodded. At first Brodie thought it was to him, but then Graham leaned over and kissed a surprised Cait, before he and Mattie rose and walked to the front.
“We have a special treat this evening,” Andrew said, beaming as if handing out Christmas presents to one and all. “Two of our parishioners have asked if they may do a duet.”
The congregation was as shocked as Cait, and whispering broke out throughout the kirk.
Andrew held up his hand and the room went quiet as the music began.
Mattie solemnly looked up at his grandfather Graham, and Graham nodded back to him.
“Silent night,” Mattie sang, his voice soft and his pitch true. “Holy night. All is calm. All is bright.”
Graham joined in, smiling at them all, but tears had come to everyone’s eyes. Even Brodie’s.
Hannah pulled his arm. “Why is everyone crying?”
Brodie kissed the top of her head. “Because we’re happy.” Mattie had come a long way after enduring so much. To hear him sing, and to know he was healing, was the best Christmas present Gandiegow could ever receive.
When they got to the last verse of the song, Mattie sang by himself again for a few lines, but then he and Graham raised their arms to have everyone join in. The town sang, but amid the joy of the Christmas miracle, noses were being blown throughout the sanctuary.
When they were done, Cait stepped out of the pew and Mattie flew into her arms. “Merry Christmas,” he said quietly.
Graham la
id a hand on Cait’s shoulder as the three of them sat back down.
Andrew tucked his handkerchief in his pocket. “All rise for the final prayer.”
When he finished, Brodie expected the music for the recessional to begin, but instead, Andrew called for announcements, not something that was usually done on Christmas Eve.
Brodie was even more surprised when Rachel’s hand timidly rose.
“Here.”
Andrew motioned her to come to the front.
Rachel glanced around nervously while standing. As she scooted out, his locket swung from side to side. God, what was she up to?
She made it to the lectern, but then froze. “I, ah—”
“Louder,” Deydie hollered from her row with the quilting ladies.
Rachel glared at the older woman as if she was undaunted by her or anyone else. Finally, she looked at the rest of them with fierce determination. “As you all know, several things have gone missing around Gandiegow. I’ve been appointed to get to the bottom of one piece of the puzzle.”
The pews lit up with chatter.
Rachel held up her hand. “Does anyone in this room wear a size forty-four boot?”
Brodie wore a forty-six.
Rachel looked around and seemed relieved that no one wore that size.
But a deep voice said, “I wear a forty-four.” Tuck rose from his seat and the room gasped.
“Dumb luck,” Rachel muttered with a frown on her face, but then brightened as if an idea struck her. “Anyone else? Surely, Tuck isn’t the only one in Gandiegow who wears a forty-four.”
The crowd glanced from one to the other, silently, but then accusing chatter began to buzz around the room like a swarm of killer hornets.
Rachel looked in Brodie’s direction as if she was hoping for his support. She shook her head to convey the news was bad.
Brodie didn’t believe for a second Tuck would steal anything, even the wellies, though the bloke’s boots had seen better days.
Rachel put her hand up to silence the room, but then she looked to Tuck. “Do you mind staying after for a minute?” She nodded toward the Narthex.
“Sure.” Tuck sat. He was frowning, too. He had to know what this was about with all the gossip which had been going around . . . unless the man was deaf.
“Thank you.” Rachel ducked her head and made her way back to her seat. Father Andrew called out for the last hymn to begin. Brodie didn’t sing, but kept glancing at Rachel to make sure she was all right.
And because he didn’t trust Tuck for other reasons besides a damned pair of missing wellies, Brodie was going to stay afterward, too.
When the song was over, Brodie filed out with the rest of them where a group—Deydie, Bethia, Amy, Father Andrew, and Moira—had gathered in the Narthex. The head quilter was sending the gawkers along their way by glaring at whoever wanted to hang around to see what would happen to Tuck.
As Rachel left the sanctuary, she turned to Vivienne. “Can you take Hannah to Abraham’s and tell him we’ll be along shortly? I’ll bring your overnight bag.” She glanced to where it sat by the door.
Vivienne nodded, but she wasn’t really paying much attention as she was watching Graham come up the aisle.
“Leave him alone, Mom,” Rachel said. “I mean it.”
“I just want an introduction,” Vivienne whined, sounding an awful lot like Hannah.
“No. It’s Christmas. You’ll let him be. Abraham is waiting for Hannah.”
But apparently there were more sights for Vivienne to appreciate. Behind Graham were Gabriel and his father.
“Oh, my.” Vivienne fanned herself. “Now, who’s that fine specimen? The older one, of course.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Leave him alone, too.”
Hannah put her hand on her grandmother. “We better go, Gran.” Clearly, she was the adult between the two of them.
“Very well.” Vivienne turned away and they walked out.
“I’m going to have to put a leash on her,” Rachel muttered.
Brodie stood close. “How come ye made the announcement?”
“The quilters made me their talking head. I’m expendable, you see?”
No, he didn’t see at all. Brodie laid his hand on her back—for only a moment—to get her moving toward the lynch mob. When Tuck came into the lobby area, he frowned at the assembly. The bloke made his way over, shaking his head.
Deydie harrumphed at the sight of him. “Ye may resemble yere brother, the good Father, but ye’re nothing like him. He wouldn’t be stealing from the townsfolk, and he would’ve been here for yere wedding.”
Tuck put his hand up, courtroom style. “I didn’t do anything. I swear.”
Andrew appeared pained that his brother had said swear within the walls of the kirk.
“I promise,” Tuck amended. “I didn’t take the wellies or anything else ye want to accuse me of doing.”
Hesitating, Moira moved slightly forward, keeping her eyes on the ground. “Tuck is eating plenty at home. I’m certain he hasn’t been taking the food.”
Brodie knew why Rachel didn’t say anything about the plate she’d left out. She had nothing to report definitively. He planned to fix that problem later tonight, though.
“Well, I think ye did the thieving,” Deydie said as the resident Scrooge. “But let’s take a vote on it. Who thinks Tuck is the thief?” She raised her old hand in the air.
Everyone else looked embarrassed, leaving their arms at their sides.
“He didn’t do it,” Andrew said. He gripped Tuck’s shoulder in a show of solidarity. “I know my brother.”
Deydie wrapped her coat around her tighter then pointed a finger at the accused. “I’ll be watching ye.” She spun around and waddled out the door.
The rest of the group disbanded with a few attempts at Happy Christmas but the sentiment fell flat. Amy and Moira retrieved a bag and brought it over.
Amy presented the shopping bag to Rachel. “For you. We thought ye would need it.”
Rachel looked a little hesitant to take the sack. He couldn’t blame her. He still couldn’t believe the quilting ladies had forced Rachel into making that blasted announcement. She finally took the bag. “Thank you.”
“Look inside. Moira and I finished it.”
Rachel’s gaze questioned her, but then she opened the bag and pulled out the patchwork quilt he’d seen earlier.
Moira gave her a weak smile. “We knew ye wouldn’t have time to complete it for yere mum before tomorrow morn.”
“Thank you both. So much.” Rachel looked as if she meant it. “This was so thoughtful.”
Amy beamed brightly. “It was the least we could do. Happy Christmas.” The two of them left together.
Brodie took the quilt from Rachel and put it back in the bag. He nodded that they should go, too. At the door, he grabbed Vivienne’s overnight case. When they were away from the kirk, he spoke. “Ye shouldn’t have been the one to get up there.” He didn’t need to explain what he was talking about.
Rachel shrugged. “Deydie implied she’d ease up on me if I did. What a crazy ordeal. Tuck did not do it.”
“I noticed you didn’t say anything.”
“My vote didn’t count. I was just the messenger, not the judge and jury. Besides, I don’t know anything for sure.”
Exactly what he thought.
She stopped. “But as soon as I catch the little thief, I’m going to drag him to Deydie and then make the old quilter apologize to Tuck.”
He laughed, imagining Rachel pulling the man by his ear all the way to Deydie’s doorstep, but his merriment died when he thought about Rachel standing up for Tuck. “Do ye care for the man?” Brodie hadn’t been with Rachel every second of the day. Had she formed a relationship with Tuck when he wasn’t around? But the locket still hung around her n
eck and the sight of it slightly eased his growing panic.
She was giving him a weird frown as if she wanted to burrow into his head and figure out what he was thinking. “I don’t even know Tuck,” was her answer.
“But ye’d like to.” Brodie was seething a tad more than he wanted to admit.
“I guess,” Rachel said. “I want to get to know everyone in Gandiegow. I like it here. I always have.”
But Brodie felt stuck on the fact that she wanted to get to know Tuck. Was it his fault, because he’d built a wall of unforgiveness between him and her?
“We’re here.” Rachel didn’t go in, but grabbed his arm. “Thank you for staying behind with me at church. I wasn’t sure what was expected of me at the inquisition, but I was relieved you were there with me.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek.
He soaked it up, her hand resting on his arm, and her lips on his face. When she pulled away, he felt cheated. The only explanation he could give himself for what happened next was because it was Christmas Eve. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her as if a bushel of mistletoe hung above their heads. Being the one to initiate the kiss was a heady feeling of power, and he understood why Rachel was forever stepping in and making the first move. But when she tried to deepen the kiss, he came to his senses, breaking away. He was breathless and feeling confused. His resentment toward Rachel was all he had, and he clung to it the way Hannah clung to her guzzy. Unfortunately, Rachel’s goodness was seeping into him and chipping away at the hard feelings he held for her.
I’m not supposed to care about ye.
“They’re waiting.” His voice sounded as if he’d swallowed half the rocks on the beach. He opened the door and let her go in first. He seriously considered not entering at all, but he couldn’t leave Grandda on Christmas Eve.
They hung up their coats in silence. There was nothing for him to say. He should apologize for kissing her, because he had no plans of rekindling what had started six years ago. He’d kissed her because it felt good to do so. End of story. It wasn’t a damned proposal. He handed her the bag containing the patchwork quilt.
It Happened in Scotland Page 19
