Kirsty was right. Deydie had been extra grouchy for several days, barking at everyone more than usual. Surprisingly, though, the old woman was walking congenially with Harry across the room right now, instead of whacking him with her broom. What was weird was now that the news about Cait’s pregnancy was out, Deydie had been grumbling more and glaring at her granddaughter every other second.
Rachel wandered over to Cait. “Hi.”
Cait was frowning at her grandmother.
Rachel nodded toward Deydie. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Cait turned to her and focused, her frown disappearing. “My gran is angry.”
“I can see that.” The whole town could.
“She thinks I should’ve told her right away I was pregnant.”
“Did you explain that you didn’t even tell your husband?” Rachel asked.
“She won’t listen. She won’t let me help with anything either. She’s treating me as if I’m an invalid.” Cait glanced at Deydie with an unkind smile on her face. “I wish she would get over being mad.”
Rachel touched her arm. “She probably felt left out. Deydie seems to enjoy being in the thick of things, good or bad.”
Cait paused, as if mulling it over. “Maybe ye’re right. But I’m not ready to apologize. I didn’t do anything wrong.” She put her hand on her abdomen as if protecting the baby from what she was thinking.
Rachel chewed her lip. Cait was the only person she trusted to ask, and this was as good a time as any. “While I have you, can you tell me what something means?” She’d repeated the words over and over in her mind since Christmas Eve so she wouldn’t forget how Brodie had said it. “Mo ghràidh?” she whispered.
Cait’s hand dropped and she grinned at Rachel as if she’d learned a new bit of gossip. “Where did ye hear it?”
“Around,” Rachel hedged. There was no way she was going to confess the circumstances under which the words were said. While I was naked and lying next to Brodie.
Cait was the one who took her arm this time, giving it a squeeze. “It means my dear.” Her knowing smile embarrassed Rachel.
“Thanks.”
“Cait!” Deydie grabbed her broom. “I told ye to put yere feet up.”
Cait rolled her eyes. “I’ll talk to you later. I’m going home.”
Rachel was left alone, feeling both elated and downcast. Brodie had called her my dear, but afterward she ruined it by speaking from her heart and telling him what she needed. Love me, Brodie.
She laid a hand on the locket around her neck, feeling a sinking depression coming on. She should make an appointment with Emma, the town’s therapist, to help her wade through her crushed dreams and get beyond them.
Rachel had been doing a lot of soul-searching over the last week since she had time on her hands. Here in Gandiegow, Hannah didn’t need her as much, as her little girl had made the village her own. Hannah raced through town with the other children, taking turns to play at each other’s houses. Her daughter had really settled in and enjoyed a freedom here she’d never have back in Chicago.
That thought churned with all the other discombobulated feelings which were bombarding Rachel. Hannah might be happy, but Hannah’s mother was a bit conflicted—half miserable and half contented. What a strange state to be in. Since Christmas night, she hadn’t been near enough to Brodie to speak with him. When he’d said good-bye, he wasn’t kidding. But he’d found ways to see Hannah when Rachel wasn’t around—at least that was the report from her daughter. He’d taken Hannah to show her their boat. He’d given Hannah a small pail of shells for the two of them to sort. He’d gifted her with a tiny fishing rod, teaching her how to cast her line in Abraham’s parlor. She had to hand it to Brodie . . . he was an expert at avoiding Hannah’s mother.
She missed him terribly, and at the same time, she’d never felt more at peace with herself because of this community. As if gazing at a new outfit through the storefront window, Rachel visualized what it would be like to make Gandiegow her home . . . permanently. All looked well, except she had one huge complication to overcome. Could she live so close to the man she loved and accept he would never love her back?
That strong empowering voice harrumphed in her head. Hell yes! You are the mistress of your destiny. Live life and be happy no matter the circumstances.
Deydie glowered at her from the doorway and began trudging toward her. Rachel was pretty sure the old woman didn’t want to compare nail polish. Yes, she’d been dawdling, but the head quilter didn’t understand she had a lot on her mind.
It was best to head her off at the pass, so Rachel met her halfway. “I have a question for you.” She liked throwing the dour-faced woman off guard.
“What?” Deydie asked.
“Where do out-of-town guests stay if the quilting dorms are full from a quilt retreat?”
“What?”
Rachel had spoken clearly. “Let’s say, that when Hannah and I arrived, the quilting dorms had been full. Where would we have stayed?”
Deydie stared her down. “There’s the room over the pub, but it only has the one bed.” The old woman frowned. “I guess ye would’ve had to stay with one of us, if ye didn’t have Abraham as family.”
“I heard Kit Armstrong brings in her American clients for her matchmaking service. Where do they stay?”
“We have to plan it so that no quilt retreat is going on.”
“Has that been a problem?”
“Nay! The Kilts and Quilts retreat comes before her Real Men of Scotland business. I’ve made that perfectly clear. Though sometimes Kit gets her britches twisted up over it.”
“And tourism?” Rachel went on bravely, now that she had Deydie’s attention. “Do you ever have people come here for the beautiful ocean and the fresh air?”
Deydie stepped closer, peering up at her. “What are you getting at?”
Rachel took a step backward. “Nothing. I was only wondering.”
Deydie huffed. “Git back to work.” She hustled away.
Rachel stared at the door, having one of her weak moments, wishing a certain fisherman would walk through. But he didn’t. She longed to go back in time to Christmas night and kiss him once more. She would plant such a kiss on him that the memory would last her for a lifetime.
She wandered over to the stack of tablecloths and took one from the top. Again, she wondered if she should run her B and B idea past Brodie before she went any further.
Hell no! The strong inner voice guffawed. He doesn’t get a vote. It’s your decision.
True. He’d said good-bye. Maybe it was time for Rachel to step confidently into the next phase of her life. One that made sense. No more past-their-expiration-date second chances. No more crazy fantasies of a family that would never be. Hannah was her family. Her mother, too. A bed and breakfast in Gandiegow would make a great adventure for her and Hannah.
A bit of anger bubbled up. If Brodie doesn’t like it, then he can walk the plank.
“Why the maniacal grin?” Vivienne said.
Rachel jumped. “Where did you come from?”
“I was sent on an errand.” Her mother’s face was glowing as if illuminated by the sun.
Rachel knew that look. “What’s going on?”
“I saw that gorgeous man, again,” Vivienne purred.
“The village is full of them.”
“Ah, but this one is for me. I asked around. He’s single.”
Rachel felt embarrassed, not for her mother, but for herself. She couldn’t have her mom hitting on the men of Gandiegow if she was to have a B and B here. “Dare I ask who it is?”
“The one I saw after church. The doctor’s father, Casper MacGregor. I hear he hasn’t lived here very long.”
“But you’re headed off to France tomorrow.” Rachel should’ve encouraged her to go right after Christmas.
>
“France can wait.” Vivienne looked like Hannah right now, as if she were about to unwrap a new present. “Even better, maybe I can convince Casper to go with me. Travel is much more fun with a companion.”
Normally, Rachel would tell her mother to knock herself out, because her trysts never reflected on her. But this was different.
Vivienne frowned. “Stop looking at me like that. We’re of age.”
“True. But—”
As if it was a sign from heaven, the door opened and Casper came walking in, carrying his grandson Angus. His daughter-in-law Emma was beside him.
“No time like the present.” Vivienne winked at Rachel and then sauntered over to him.
Rachel started to go after her, but something caught her eye: Grace Armstrong straightened as if she’d been pierced by a harpoon. She followed to where Grace was looking. First Casper, then to Vivienne’s killer hips sashaying over to the retired reverend.
Rachel wasn’t the only one who noticed. Emma was watching the whole thing unfold, too. Rachel took a step toward her mother to stop her, but the expression on Emma’s face said she wasn’t going to intervene.
Rachel mulled that over. If she got in the middle of this, she’d be as bad as Vivienne, who always wanted to control whom she dated. Whom I married. The sobering truth settled in. She had no right to get involved with her mother’s affairs. Rachel could only observe and hope for the best.
Vivienne sidled up to Casper and began chatting him up.
Deydie harrumphed loudly. Rachel glanced around and found the old woman glaring not ten feet away with her broom at her side.
Rachel put her hand up to keep the woman from coming closer. “Fine. I’ll get back to work.” She shook out the cloth and smoothed it over the table.
Next she joined Coll and Amy, who were setting up chairs around the perimeter of the room. The job was mindless, giving Rachel more time to think about her bed and breakfast. When she got a moment, she was going to start sketching out her dream.
“Need help?” Emma asked.
“Yes.” With more than just the chairs. “Can I ask you a question?”
Emma took the chair from her and placed it against the wall. “Certainly.”
Rachel wasn’t sure where to begin. “I never touched my husband’s life insurance money.” She told her how she’d moved to the hotel, how their marriage ceased to exist, how when he died—though she was the beneficiary—Rachel didn’t feel as if she had a right to use the insurance.
Emma listened while they worked, nodding her head with each new piece of information. Finally, she sat in one of the chairs. “There’s only one thing for you to consider.”
“That is?”
“Are you raising Joe’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
Emma laid a hand on Rachel’s arm. “In there lies your answer. He must’ve had confidence you would use the money wisely if something happened to him.”
True. Joe had trusted her when it came to money. He’d even said once he knew she was the one to marry when he saw how frugal she was. Also, he was the type of person who would’ve changed his policy if he thought she would squander the insurance.
A weight lifted. It had been heavy on her mind for so long that without it there, Rachel felt a little uncomfortable.
“Don’t worry,” Emma said. “You’ll get used to the idea.”
“I guess it’ll take some time.”
“Mommy!” Hannah ran at her. “Did ye know there’s a dance tonight? Dand says so. Glenna said I can wear a pretty dress.” She twirled around as if she had the dress on now. “I love to dance.”
“I know you do.” Rachel picked her up and hugged her close while doing a mini waltz. Feeling lighter made it easier to dance. She looked at Emma over her shoulder. “What do I owe you for your help?”
Emma shook her head. “What do the Americans say? It’s on the house?”
“Thank you.”
Hannah laid a hand on her cheek. “What did Emma do for ye, Mummy?”
Rachel liked being called mommy, but her girl was determined to be a Scottish lass. “Emma helped me with a problem.”
“I’m glad.” Hannah hugged her again. “I like it when ye’re happy.”
It occurred to Rachel, that since Christmas, she’d been seriously down in the dumps.
But no more. Hannah needed her mum happy.
Rachel twirled and Hannah squealed. Tonight at the dance was the perfect time to embrace something new. It would be a good life.
“There’s Glenna.” Hannah slid out of her arms and ran off.
Rachel smiled. Gandiegow was the right place to raise her daughter and the right place for her to be. Rachel would help out with the retreat-goers while they were at the quilting dorm. She’d teach a class here and there. She’d build her B and B and stay busy running it. She was making a new start. Second chances were for dreamers, and Rachel was a grown woman with a daughter to care for. She should’ve realized from the start that it takes two to make a relationship. It was time to silence the little voice forever and embrace the voice which told her to be strong.
She couldn’t afford to waste another second on what would never be. Without giving herself a moment to reconsider, she reached up and unclasped the necklace from around her neck. The locket fell into her hand and she shoved it into her jeans pocket.
Her neck felt naked. But she would get used to that, too. Emptiness was expected when change was taking place. Time for me to grow up and move on.
“Brodie!” Hannah yelled from across the room. “Mummy, it’s Brodie!”
Slowly, Rachel turned around to see him carrying a table through the doorway. He set it down and caught Hannah as she launched herself into his arms. His eyes came up and met Rachel’s. His features were guarded and his wariness conveyed his message clearly—give me space—as if he were five inches away instead of thirty feet.
“Stop worrying. I’m all done,” she whispered to him, assuring him, assuring herself, tired from the imaginary world she’d built where she could have him for always. She reached in her pocket and touched the locket again. “I never should’ve assumed anything.”
Hannah came running back to her. “Brodie’s going to be at the dance tonight. Are ye going to dance with him?”
“No, sweetie. I’m not going to dance with him.”
Hannah cocked her head to the side. “Don’t ye like him anymore?” The room’s chatter ceased, going unusually quiet. “Ye said ye liked Brodie a lot when ye kissed him.” Her little voice rang out as if she were on the loud speaker.
Rachel cringed. More than a few heads whipped around, actually all of them. Her chest and face felt on fire, and she refused to look in Brodie’s direction again.
She took Hannah’s hand and began walking, almost dragging her daughter along. “I like Brodie fine. Now, let’s go.” Rachel didn’t want to stop at the quilting dorm to change. She wanted to keep on walking, out the door, out of Gandiegow, but wouldn’t leave the village now that she’d decided to stay. But she could hide out for an hour or so and try to forget all the humiliating mistakes she’d ever made.
Chapter Seventeen
Brodie planted his feet and stared down the damned decorating committee, one by one. Rachel might run away, but he wasn’t one to stick his head in the sand and hide. Not anymore.
“Back to work,” Deydie hollered.
He flipped the table over, pulled down the legs, and set it up. Hell, worrying over what might tumble out of Harry’s mouth had been wasted energy. Brodie should’ve been guarding himself against the forty-inch-tall five-year-old who was known for saying the most outrageous things.
But I heard Rachel with my own ears; she said she liked me.
That didn’t mean a thing. He liked broccoli.
But he knew she liked him from the one night they’
d been together. Love me, Brodie.
He finished his task with only a few glances from the folks about the room. But as he left, Deydie shot him a quizzical look, which was weird. She normally had a scowl on her face while she was running shotgun over the village.
At home, he spent time with his grandfather, getting him settled in for the evening. Hannah had been by earlier and helped Grandda choose and download some new apps for his iPad.
Brodie caught sight of the screen as he moved the tablet to the side table. “Seriously, ye’re playing that. Little Girl Magic?”
Abraham chuckled. “The lass insisted.”
“Of course she did, and ye couldn’t deny her.”
“Not our Hannah.”
“Are ye sure you don’t want me to stay home with ye?” Brodie sailing his boat into a storm seemed preferable to going to the dance tonight.
Abraham peered over at him. “Ye’ve been out of sorts of late. Does yere dark mood have anything to do with a certain American lass?”
Brodie shifted his gaze to the window. “Nay. I don’t feel much like celebrating the New Year, is all.” He took the bowl of beef stew from the tray and handed it to his grandfather. “I could use the time to catch up on the books. Or play checkers with you.”
“Gandiegow is expecting ye to sing tonight. Ye can’t let them down.”
But the partridge on Brodie’s chest wasn’t in the mood to sing. Brooding was more like it. He needed time to think. He’d done so well avoiding Rachel this past week and he didn’t want to ruin his good streak. Being near her might set him back, might make him like her more, or might convince his bruised heart to develop a permanent case of amnesia where Rachel was concerned. He especially didn’t want to go to the dance tonight after what happened in the grand dining room earlier. The news that they’d kissed would’ve spread by now to the far reaches of the village, the best piece of gossip in a while.
After he finished getting Abraham settled, Brodie dressed for the evening in a black button-down shirt and black jeans, and then he trekked across town. The music sounded from one end of the village to the other, infinitesimally lifting his dark spirits.
It Happened in Scotland Page 26
