by Camille Eide
Aunt Grace and Maggie packed the picnic things back into the baskets and didn’t appear to need any help. Emily and the girls were sheltered from the wind by some low-growing bushes but still within easy distance of the loch in case they needed water for the moat.
Claire jogged toward them and dropped to her knees beside Emily. “The boys are on the bank fishing away. I guess one race across a freezing loch was enough.”
Kallie reached for the bucket in Emily’s hand, but frowned when she found it empty.
“Sorry, Kallie, I’m slacking off.” She picked up the bucket and filled it quickly. “Here you go.”
The girls worked steadily. Kallie mounded lumpy turrets while Hannah gathered pine cones. “These will serve me as my royal subjects,” Hannah said. She formed a line with the cones in front of the palace.
Claire chuckled. “Bet you’re glad you came. You’ll not find fun like this anywhere else.”
Emily filled another bucket and handed it over. “I am glad I came.”
“But ...?”
Maybe Ian did have work to do, but he probably would have joined his nieces and nephews in a heartbeat, if not for her.
“What?” Claire gave her a probing look.
“Ian should be here spending time with your kids.”
Claire gave her short hair a finger comb. “He sees more than his fill of them, trust me.” She lowered her voice. “He seemed well enough today. You think he’s avoiding you?”
Emily nodded and looked away. He was probably trying to make it easier on her. He must have overheard enough to know she couldn’t handle being near him.
Maggie and Aunt Grace had been sitting on the large, plaid blanket where everyone had eaten lunch, but now they were slowly getting up. Or, at least, Grace was slow about it. Maggie hopped up, took hold of Grace’s hand, and pulled her to her feet.
Emily raised her voice so they could hear. “Aunt Grace, do you two need anything?”
Maggie waved her off. The two of them headed away from the beach toward the meadow, a colorful sea of wild, brown grasses and purple heather against a backdrop of deep evergreen.
Emily squinted and looked closer. A bundle of paper poked out from under Maggie’s arm.
“Daft.” Claire chuckled, shaking her head. “Look at them.”
The old women headed toward the meadow. Grace leaned on Maggie’s arm, pointing out the clumps of grass and brush as they worked their way through the bank of shrubs separating the beach from the meadow.
An odd, heavy sensation fell on Emily as the two sisters worked together, helping each other.
“They’re quite the pair, aren’t they?” Claire’s gaze followed their progress until they were out of sight.
“Are they okay to go off alone?”
Claire nodded. “They won’t get far. It’s been so good for Maggie, having Grace here. She’s happier than I’ve seen her in a long time.”
Aunt Grace seemed happy as well, but Emily wasn’t ready to admit it out loud.
Claire chuckled. “Did you know Maggie’s telling everyone that Grace is home to stay?”
Emily glanced at Claire. “I’ve heard.”
“So what do you think?”
She poked a twig in the dirt, traced a series of connecting circles. What was there to think about? “I don’t know. It’s not what we planned.”
“Right, but aside from a change of plans, what do you think of her living here? Have you thought about what’s best for Aunt Grace if it turns out that you—you know—can’t take care of her? What if she outlives you?”
The bluntness of Claire’s words sent a new chill along Emily’s already cool skin, and the hairs on her arms stood at attention. “I haven’t really thought about it. But now that we’re here, seeing them together gives me a lot to think about.”
“She’s happy here. After all, this is her home.”
Is it?
“What does she have back in the States?”
Just me. Emily turned her attention to the girls. They had worked hard and steady and made quite a bit of progress on the castle, each one doing her part. Sisters working together without much fighting.
Whooping and laughter drowned out her thoughts.
Jack and Douglas appeared, each one jogging toward them with a fishing pole in one hand and a sloshing bucket in the other.
“I caught three. That’s two more than Jack,” Douglas said, breathing hard.
“But my one is bigger than the lot of yours combined.” Jack set his bucket down near his mom.
Claire made a face. “Remember—you catch it, you clean it.”
“Look at these.” Douglas let his bucket drop next to Jack’s, slopping water over the side.
The bucket moved and made more sloshing sounds on its own.
Emily peered at the fish and looked up with a smile. “Those are really nice, Douglas. What kind are they?”
He looked at her and stiffened, cheeks bursting with color.
Jack gave Douglas an elbow poke. “They’re brown trout, but we call ’em brownies.” He leaned close to his brother. “Race you to the honey buns.” He took off running toward the picnic baskets.
Douglas dropped his pole and ran after him.
“A bonnie catch, boys.” Claire’s raised voice drifted after them. “Just don’t forget what I said about cleaning them.” Then she turned to Emily. “So, back to Grace. What concerns you?”
Emily frowned. How to say it gently? “Aunt Grace has trouble with her memory and sometimes she does things that are ... unsafe.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“It happens a lot when she’s tired or gets out of her routine. She needs to be with someone all the time. Someone who can keep an eye on her.”
Claire’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t you trust us, then? We Scots may be a lively bunch, but we’re not all wild and reckless, in spite of what you may have heard.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—”
“Fire!” Maggie’s voice rang out from the bushes behind them. She burst into view, coughing, and croaked, “Fire! Get water!”
Fire? Where was Aunt Grace? Emily scrambled to her feet in spite of the numbing dread that raced through her.
Claire shouted at the boys to get their buckets, then disappeared into the bushes where Maggie had emerged.
Jack and Douglas came running.
Emily hurried after Claire, Hannah and Kallie trailing behind. She pushed her way through the bushes.
A whimper came from behind her and she turned.
Hannah was crying.
Emily scooped her up and ran on.
A cloud of gray billowed ahead, curling upward.
She reached a clearing and stopped. Still holding Hannah, she pulled Kallie close.
The fire wasn’t big, but it had grown beyond a small, rock-lined pit and was spreading through the tall, dry grass.
Aunt Grace stood a few yards beyond the fire and waved, smiling at the blaze like a child over her birthday cake.
“Girls,” Claire said, “stay with Emily.” She ran to the beach.
With Hannah in her arms, Emily took Kallie’s hand and skirted the fire toward her aunt. She let go of Kallie’s hand to switch Hannah to the other hip, then reached for her hand again, but the older girl was gone.
“Kallie?”
Douglas came running with a bucket. With a garbled yell, he tossed the contents of his bucket into the fire.
Water and three brown trout flew through the air and hit the blaze dead center. The fish bounced on the smoldering spot doused by the water, flopping around and twitching like break-dancers on a charred, smoky stage, surrounded by an audience of flames.
Jack came next with his bucket. He set it down, took out his fish, and tossed the water at the fire. He slapped his brother on the back with a “way to go, mon,” and sprinted off with his bucket.
Douglas stood there, shoulders drooping, watching his flailing fish through the smoke.
“I’m scared.”
Hannah wrapped her arms around Emily’s neck. “Will it burn us up?”
“Oh, no, honey. We’ll put it out.”
“Will it cook Doogie’s fish?”
As Douglas disappeared with his bucket, Emily threw a look over her shoulder. Were the others coming?
The water had put out the center of the fire, but the outer edges were still burning.
Kallie appeared with two pink plastic buckets of sand.
“Careful, honey,” Emily said.
Kallie set one down and tossed sand from the first bucket onto the fire, then switched and did the same with the other one.
Claire appeared and threw water at the fire, but the outer flames spread farther.
Maggie came tottering along the path.
Grace made an exasperated sound. “Maggie, ye didnae use my good tablecloth to put out a fire again, did ye? The Buchanan plaid?”
The old woman frowned. “What else was I supposed to use? The fancy lace one?”
Claire frowned. “Tablecloth? What are you two talking about?”
“Och, Gracie,” Maggie said, ignoring Claire. “Ye were always the smart one.” She turned toward Kallie. “Run get the blanket we used for our picnic and bring it here. Quick, lassie!”
Kallie turned and ran.
“She’s only eight, Maggie,” Claire said.
“So help her instead of squawking at me like a chicken.”
Claire turned and ran as flames crackled and spread to the dry grass.
Smoke drifted toward Grace and Emily. Aunt Grace coughed.
Within minutes, Claire returned with Kallie, Douglas, and Jack, all bearing the thick, plaid blanket. Dripping wet.
“Everyone, grab a corner,” Claire called out. “Kallie, you be careful.”
They spread it out and dropped it onto the burning grass, smothering the fire instantly.
Billows of smoke and the smell of singed fabric rose with a sizzle from the wet cloth.
They all formed a solemn circle around the smoking plaid. No one said a word.
Maggie wrinkled her red nose at the smoldering mess. Grace patted Maggie’s shoulder and leaned close to her. “Thank you for the bonfire, dearie. I had a lovely time.”
Claire shook her head.
Douglas stared at the blanket for a long time.
Jack clapped his brother on the back. “We’re heroes, eh, Doog? We killed a fire.”
“My fish,” Douglas whispered.
Kallie giggled. Then Hannah got the giggles—in Emily’s arms.
Tension-laughter bubbled up in Emily’s throat.
Oh, no, not now ...
Laughing would hurt the boy’s feelings. She covered her mouth and held it in. Bad idea, as usual. She snorted.
Hannah leveled wide eyes at Emily.
Emily burst out laughing, all hope of a dignified save gone. Then everyone was laughing, alternating with bursts of coughing, even Douglas.
Claire turned to Emily. “Well, as you can see, you have nothing to worry about. Aunt Grace should do very well here. She fits right in.”
Emily looked at her great-aunt.
Grace nodded and smiled.
By the time they cleaned up the mess and gathered the picnic supplies into Claire’s car, everyone was exhausted. Even Maggie, who climbed into the backseat without a word about driving.
Grace snuggled between Claire and Emily in the front and quickly dozed off.
“Aside from demented chickens and wild fires, Scotland isn’t such a bad place now, is it?” Claire kept her eyes fixed on the narrow road.
Emily drank in the view. The endless hills, all in a bright assortment of green earlier in the day, had taken on deeper shades of green in the late afternoon. She gathered the colors in her mind. While she would have the photos she’d taken of the farm and their outings to remember this place, no photograph could fully capture the charm and beauty of Scotland.
“Grace may have friends in the States,” Claire said, “but this is her home. Her family. And Maggie needs her.”
“No,” Emily said.
“No?” Claire shot a frown over the old woman’s head.
“I mean, no, she doesn’t have anyone in the States. Just me.”
Claire navigated the narrow road for a while. “What about you? Do you have family to help you when you need it?
Family? Right. She definitely wouldn’t be calling her dad. He made it clear that he wanted no part of going through the dying ordeal again.
“I have friends.”
Claire puffed out a laugh. “So do I. But family takes care of each other.”
In a perfect world, maybe.
Grace stirred against Emily’s shoulder and suddenly the weight of Claire’s words sank in. The MacLeans were Grace’s true relatives, a connection Emily didn’t have. Maybe Grace did belong with them. But did Claire and Ian want the responsibility of caring for her? And with Maggie bent on mischief, were Ian and Claire prepared to give Grace the kind of care she needed?
“The solution’s simple. Both you and Grace move here.”
“Me?”
“Aye. You could get a job in the village, if you fancy. Stay on the farm and keep an eye on the old hens. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about her, and you’d be looked after. When the time comes.”
When the time comes ...
Emily studied the side of Claire’s pretty face. “That’s really kind, but I couldn’t possibly burden any of you. I’m not family.”
“Pssh, of course you are.”
Emily shook her head. “Claire, I can’t—”
“Hey.” Claire turned, dark eyes flashing. “You’re not only Grace’s niece; you’ve been like a daughter to her. She loves you. And Ian loves you. That makes you family.”
Did Claire know what she was suggesting? Emily shook her head at the passing hills dotted with sheep, carefree little specks of black and white against gently rolling green mounds. How simple, their sheepy little lives. No concern for anything beyond moving from one grassy patch to the next.
“You do want to stay close to Grace, don’t you?”
Emily glanced at her great-aunt, praying she wasn’t hearing this. “I do, but—”
“And you love Ian.” Claire shrugged. “So what’s stopping you?”
“That is what’s stopping me.”
“How’d you figure that?” Claire frowned as she turned the car onto another narrow road. “You love him. He loves you. If he’s going to lose you, what difference does it make if it’s now or later?”
How could Claire ask a question like that? Claire was married. Wasn’t there a deeper, more intimate bond between a husband and wife than there was for others? She’d seen it in her parents. Didn’t that kind of bond bleed all the more when torn apart? “There’s a huge difference, Claire.”
“Not to Ian.” Claire shook her head. “He’s a MacLean. When we love someone, it’s forever.”
And I’d be thrilled to know that, if things were different. Emily swallowed hard. “He’s free to begin again, to have a family of his own. That’s what he wants.”
Claire snorted. “Ian has plenty of family. Look round you.”
It’s not the same. “Claire, it’s kind of you to offer to ... look out for me, but I have to think about what’s best for Ian. And for everyone.”
The car slowed and Claire turned onto the road that led to the farm. “What about Grace? Don’t get me wrong, Ian and I can manage those two without help, but you’ve been with her a long time. She loves you.”
The thought of being separated from Aunt Grace brought a twinge of sadness. Not knowing if she was okay. Not having her near. Living alone.
“If she were to stay here,” Emily said quietly, “it would be better for her—and everyone else—if I wasn’t around.”
“Have you talked to Ian about this?”
Emily leaned a cheek against her aunt’s soft, white hair. “No.”
They crossed a small bridge and drove the remaining mile in silence.
Claire turned the car in at the farm and climbed the slope.
They passed the cottage. No sign of him.
“This is Grace’s home and Ian knows it.” Claire pulled up beside the house. “As I see it, she has no other options. So there’s really no question about it, is there?”
Sadness tugged hard at her heart. Emily tried to ease it away with a steady exhale. “I can’t lay this burden on you and Ian.”
Claire cut the engine and turned to Emily. “She’s a woman, not a burden.”
“I know.” She looked Claire in the eye. “I need to think about it.”
“Talk to Ian. See what he thinks.”
Ian. “Okay, yeah. I should do that. I’ll ... talk to him.”
“Good. Get it settled now.” Claire smiled. “Everything will work out, you’ll see.”
Emily returned the smile with a pang. What would it have been like to have Claire for a sister-in-law?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
After Claire and the kids left, Grace settled in for a nap. Emily’s gritty, sun-baked skin continued to cook inside her clothes, and the lingering heat of the day added to the irritation. She ran upstairs to change.
An envelope taped to Ian’s study door caught her eye. It was addressed to her. She took out a single, folded sheet.
Emily—Please use whatever you like. The computer in my study is online now if you need one. And if there is anything else you need, anything at all, please ask and I’ll make certain you have it.
IAN
With a sigh, she refolded the note and slipped it in her pocket, both touched and saddened by his thoughtfulness.
Since she and Grace had left home a week ago, she hadn’t checked her email. She entered the study and slipped into the seat at the desk. Within minutes, she found a week’s worth of messages cramming her inbox. Her swift scan of the subject lines stopped short on one from Oregon Health and Sciences University.
Dear Ms. Chapman,
