Grace laughed. “Okay, Reverend, enough of that.”
“What do ye need to ask me?” But he sounded as if he knew.
In that second, Rachel knew, too. She’d come in here to hide from this day, but God had delivered her a front row seat to one of Gandiegow’s cherished traditions. She couldn’t help peeking out again.
Grace took Casper’s hands. “Since the first moment I met you, I knew ye were going to be someone special in my life.”
“Aye. Me, too.”
“As ye know, I was a wee slow in accepting it, but I’m not backing away from it now.” She stepped closer to him. “Casper MacGregor, I love you. Will ye marry me?”
“Oh, Grace, of course I will.” He hugged her. “Ye know how much I love you. I’ve wanted ye to be my wife from nearly the moment I laid eyes on you. But I knew ye needed time.”
“Thank you for being patient.”
Casper kissed her cheek and hugged her one more time. “Are ye ready to tell our families?”
“Mine first,” she said. “I want my sons to know how happy I am.”
They hurried from the building. Rachel waited until she was certain they were gone before standing. She should go to the grand dining room this minute before someone else snuck in here for another proposal.
But as she made her way up the aisle, she realized there was one more thing she had to do. Yes, she’d given Brodie the locket, but that hadn’t given her complete closure. If her heart was going to say good-bye to Brodie forever, then she had to visit the place where she’d kissed him for the first time.
The place where she’d fallen in love with him.
The place where the dream had begun.
She picked up her notebook and headed to the ruins of Monadail Castle.
* * *
Brodie hurried down the walkway feeling desperate. He’d looked everywhere for Rachel. Both quilting dorms. The General Store. His cottage, in case she stopped in to see Abraham. But she wasn’t there. When he popped into Quilting Central, he had to hurry out. Rowena rushed toward him with proposing in her eyes, and dammit, he didn’t have time. As he slammed the door behind him and sped away, he vowed to give a fiver to Rowena later, because right now he had to find Rachel. Almost as a last straw, he stopped in at the surgery to see if Rachel had fallen and hurt herself. Doc wasn’t there, which was best because Brodie wasn’t sure how he would’ve explained his frantic behavior.
He was ready to start going door to door, but as he passed the kirk, the answer came to him. He knew where she must be. Monadail Castle. He ran through town to the path that led up to the ruins. As soon as he reached the summit, his eyes searched and found her, sitting under the archway. His heart beat faster. His chest expanded. Life was good. As he drew near, he saw the Celtic notebook he’d given her. Careful not to disturb the family of partridges that nibbled at the snow, he quietly made his way over to where she sat.
As he got closer, he realized she wasn’t sketching the birds or designing a quilt, but was instead working on a sign:
PARTRIDGE HOUSE
BED & BREAKFAST
“When does it open?” he asked, thinking he’d caught her by surprise.
But not his Rachel. She kept her head down and kept drawing. “This coming summer. I hope.”
“Aye. Perfect timing.” He came closer.
She glanced up at him warily. “Why perfect timing?” She seemed more skittish than the birds. He was afraid if he made one wrong step now, she might fly away.
He sat down on the rock wall and scooted closer to her. “I’ve been contemplating moving out of Grandda’s.”
“Harry cramping your style?” she asked.
“Aye.” Sure. The kid could be the perfect excuse. “I’ll be looking for a place to live, ye know.” He nodded toward her notepad. “Maybe there’ll be room for me at Partridge House.”
She shook her head, not looking up. “Booked solid. You should try the room over the pub.”
This wasn’t going well. He’d been dismissed. But he needed this one chance to state his case. If she still wanted Tuck after he was done telling her how he felt, then Brodie would back out. Forever. “Look, Rachel, I want to be serious for a minute.”
She glanced up at him, but then back at her paper, sketching a large partridge next to the lettering. “Fire away.”
He pulled the locket from his pocket. “I know ye’re with Tuck now—”
Her head shot up. “What?”
Brodie continued on. “I shouldn’t be horning in on another man’s woman, but dammit, Rachel, all bets are off when it comes to love.”
She gaped at him and then at the locket he held out.
“Take it back.” His voice was hoarse, raw with what he felt for her. The partridge on his chest was beating its wings, making his pulse run rapid. He wanted a second chance. If only she would say, Love me, Brodie. “I fixed the locket how it should be. Look inside.”
He took her hand and laid it in her palm. He watched as she touched a finger to their pictures and waited to see if she saw what he saw.
He inched even closer, wanting to touch her, but he spoke instead. Now was the time for him to tell her everything. “I see it now. We’re a family. You, me, and Hannah. I was stupid for letting a tiny mistake happen . . . like ye marrying my cousin.” He gave her weak smile.
“You made the mistake? I—”
“Aye. It was my fault.” He took a chance and captured her hand. When she didn’t pull away, he felt encouraged. The partridge on his chest began to relax. “I should’ve been clear. I should’ve told ye I loved you. I should’ve told ye that you couldn’t marry Joe. I should’ve explained how I had the means to support you. I should’ve gone with ye to tell Joe, yere mother, and everyone in town that you were meant for me, and I for you.” Holding her hand wasn’t enough. He gathered her into his arms. “I’ve never stopped loving ye.” He searched her eyes, looking for the truth, and then he found it. Right where it had always been.
She rested a hand on his cheek. “I never stopped loving you either. Tuck and I have been nothing more than friends.”
He nodded, feeling elated. He could’ve broken into a song, but he leaned in and kissed her instead.
The kiss was sweet, heavy with promise, and drove away the years they weren’t together. Now and the future were the only things that mattered. Their love uniting them for all time.
When the kiss was over, he didn’t let go. He should’ve been content, but he wanted everything. “Rachel, now that we have that settled, ye need to get on with it.”
The confusion in her eyes was sincere.
He brushed her hair back. “Isn’t there a question ye need to ask me?”
* * *
Rachel was giddy with happiness that Brodie loved her. High on life. But still foggy from the kiss. “What do you mean?” But the second she spoke, she knew what he was fishing for. She thought about Sinnie and how she wanted her man to be a man.
Rachel wanted the same thing. But she wasn’t Sinnie. Rachel was a mother.
“Brodie, we should have a serious talk first. A blended family isn’t going to be easy.” She’d seen what her employees went through with their stepkids and worried about burdening him with extra responsibility. She would have to learn to compromise, too. She suspected Brodie would have to learn how to give a little, also. “I know you love Hannah, but I’m afraid as time goes on that you might resent taking on such an obligation. As you know, Hannah can be a handful. And me, I’m not used to sharing her.” Though she’d learned to share a little since coming to Gandiegow.
He nodded, caressing her arm. “Don’t worry. I don’t expect it to be smooth sailing, lass. We won’t always agree. But I’ll never resent being by your side. We’ll have each other. It can’t have been easy for ye to raise Hannah on yere own. But now, you’ll have me to lean on. Let me sh
are the load and be a father to Hannah.”
“I just want to make sure you’re going into this with your eyes wide open and won’t have regrets later.”
Brodie gazed at her. “I’m done with regrets.”
She entwined her hand with his. “I’m done with regrets, too.”
They stared at one another, soaking each other in, their six years apart melting into nothingness.
But then his expression changed into a mock frown. “I’m a patient man, lass, but I’m getting weary waiting for ye to ask me that question.”
“What question?” she feigned.
He shook his head as if he was disappointed she wasn’t quicker on her feet. “It’s Leap Year Day. I’m growing older here by the second.” He brushed back her hair.
She felt light and airy, playful. “Leap Year Day? Sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell.”
His mock impatience was turning into real frustration. “Ye know what I’m talking about. I see it in yere eyes. It’s a Gandiegow tradition.”
Rachel held firm.
Brodie shrugged. “Well, Bonnie was at the cottage first thing this morning, looking to marry me. Rowena, not fifteen minutes ago, was ready to get down on one knee and ask me a certain question.”
Rachel’s blood boiled, at least momentarily, but she didn’t take the bait. “I can understand why.” She patted his chest. “You’re quite the catch.”
He looked horrified and stepped back, dropping his arms.
She gave him a sweet smile. “I hope you’re carrying plenty of five-pound notes. From what I hear, you’re in hot demand. I’m certain you’ll be busy tonight at the dance.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Ye’re not going to make me an honest man before then? Ye’ll make me endure an evening of marriage proposals?”
“That depends.” She looked at him with her eyebrows raised, as if she was waiting.
“On what?”
“I’m an old-fashioned girl, Brodie. I like my man to make the first move.”
He guffawed. “Really? Am I to forget that ye kissed me first? A chap doesn’t forget a kiss like that.”
They both looked up at the archway, the same thought surely crossing their minds. This is where it all began.
But then Brodie took the locket from her hand and worked at undoing the clasp. “Turn around.”
She did as he said.
He ran a finger along her neck before looping the chain around her. “Rachel, will ye do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, but hooked the clasp, as if the locket around her neck was a binding contract.
“I will.” She’d waited forever to say those words.
He gently turned her back to face him. “Tomorrow, we’ll get a ring.”
She kissed him and they held on to each other as if a ring didn’t matter.
He pulled away, taking her hand in his, looping their fingers together. “We need to go back now. There’s a wee lass who needs me to ask her a question.”
“And that is?” A crazy tea party flashed through her mind. Then other scenes: Seeing from a distance Hannah trussed up in her life vest on the deck of Brodie’s boat. Or the two of them dancing in the parlor with Hannah standing on top of his shoes.
Brodie grinned at her. “I need to ask the wee lass if she’ll let me change my answer to her previous question. I want a second chance on the position she wants me to fill. I hope she’ll still have me.”
Rachel squeezed his hand, loving him so much more because he cared about Hannah as much as she did. “I bet she will.”
They walked down the bluff hand in hand, ready to tell the whole world, their world—Gandiegow—the big news. They were getting married, and their family was going to live happily ever after.
Don’t miss Patience Griffin’s
The Trouble With Scotland,
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Continue reading for an excerpt.
At twenty-two, Sadie Middleton didn’t like zombie movies, but as she stepped off the bus a mile out of Gandiegow, Scotland, she felt like the lead in her own dreadful film. Sadie of the Dead. Not some glamourous zombie either, but a plain zombie who wanted to vanish. The other women around her were excited, giddy about their first evening at the quilt retreat. Sadie only felt waylaid. Shell-shocked. Miserable. If she was still at home in North Carolina, she would be sitting on the porch with Gigi, her grandmother, drinking sweet tea and waiting for the July 4th fireworks to begin.
Except they weren’t in the U.S.
And Gigi was dead.
The gravel crunched under Sadie’s feet as she made her way, along with the other quilters, to the North Sea Valve Company’s factory door. Their bus had died and coasted into the parking lot, and they were to wait here until she and the others could be transported into the small town. She leaned against the building, unfolded the printed email, and read it again:
Dear Sadie and Gigi,
Pack your bags! Your team has won the grand prize in the quilt block challenge. Congratulations! You are coming to Gandiegow! For complete information regarding your Kilts and Quilts Retreat and all-expense paid trip to Scotland, please email us back.
Sincerely,
Cait Buchanan
Owner, Kilts and Quilts Retreat
Having read the note a hundred times, Sadie shoved it back in her pocket. It seemed a cruel joke from the universe—to receive this letter only hours after Gigi’s funeral.
At hearing the news about the retreat, her brother Oliver had gone into hyper drive, using his grief to propel him into action. While insisting Gigi would want Sadie to fulfill their dream of a quilt retreat abroad, Oliver had made all the arrangements for Scotland—packing her bags and having her out the door before Sadie knew what had happened. His bullying made the trip feel more like a kidnapping than a prize.
Sadie’s grief had immobilized her, made her want to crawl under a quilt and never come out. She waffled between feeling despondent and angry. But the one constant was her guilt for the part she’d played in her grandmother’s death.
Her quilted Mondo bag slipped from her shoulder . . . the bag that matched Gigi’s that they’d made at their last quilting retreat together. Memories of that glorious weekend were stitched into Sadie, the moments long and meaningful. She pulled the bag up, held it close, and squeezed her eyes shut.
The last twenty-four hours were wearing on her. Sadie was exhausted, depleted. But she had to keep it hidden at all costs. She glanced over at her ever-helpful brother as he assisted the rest of the women off the bus. Good. He was being kept busy. She was sick to death of Oliver fussing over her and telling her what to do.
At that moment, two vans pulled up. A tall, nice-looking man got out of one and a very pregnant strawberry blond got out of the other. As they spoke to the bus driver, the woman handed over her keys to him.
Oliver, who had only just finished unloading the last quilter from the bus, hurried to the couple who’d brought the vans. “Excuse me?”
“Yes,” answered the man. From his accent, he clearly was from the States. Texas, perhaps.
Oliver pointed to Sadie. “My sister needs to be in the first group into town.”
Embarrassment radiated from her toes to her scalp. Dammit, Oliver. Sadie ducked behind another woman as the two newcomers turned in her direction.
“Sure,” the man said. “We can take her into Gandiegow first. I’m Max, by the way.”
Oliver introduced himself, too, and unfortunately felt the need to explain further. “My sister is ill.”
The couple’s curious eyes transformed into compassion. The women around Sadie spun on her with pity as well, staring at her as if they hadn’t just spent the last couple of hours with her on the bus in quasi-normal companionship. To them, Sadie had been another quilter, a fellow-retreat goer. Now, she wasn’t. She
was to be flooded with sympathy. No longer included. On the outside because of her disease.
Oliver spoke to Sadie but pointed to the vans. “Get in. They’ll get you to town.” He’d said it as if Sadie’s problem was with her ears and not her kidneys.
Without a word and anxious to hide her red face, Sadie walked to the van with a compliant exterior. On the inside, though, she was seething. She climbed in and took a seat in the back. A minute later, others were climbing in as well. No one sat next to her, leaving her alone to frown out the window at her overly responsible brother.
The couple climbed into the front of the van and began chatting with the other quilters. Sadie found out more about them and their connection to Gandiegow—Max and Pippa were engineers at the North Sea Valve Company and newlyweds. They kept up a steady conversation, asking the quilters about themselves, and explaining about the upcoming wedding between their Episcopal priest and a town favorite. Mercifully they left Sadie alone.
A few minutes later, when they reached Gandiegow’s parking lot, a group of men and women were waiting for them.
“We’re a closed community,” Pippa explained. “No cars within the village. Everyone is here to help carry yere things to the quilting dorms.” Sure enough, many of the women had wagons beside them, while the men had their muscles. “Deydie will want everyone at Quilting Central as soon as possible. She’s the head quilter and town matriarch.” Pippa made it sound as if they better do as Deydie bid or there might be trouble.
One by one, they disembarked from the van. When Sadie got out, a young woman in a plain plum-colored dress with a double-hearted silver brooch moved forward. Next to her was a young girl.
“I’m Moira,” the woman said, “and this is my cousin Glenna. We’ll help ye get settled into the quilting dorm.”
Sadie followed them, immediately pleased with both of her handlers; Moira and Glenna seemed blessedly quiet and shy.
It Happened in Scotland Page 32
