Blame It on Scotland

by Patience Griffin

  The quilts coming together on the design wall were beautiful. Ryn couldn’t believe how making a fabric change could change the character of the quilt. In some quilts, the solid grey pieces had been switched to a gray print, giving the quilts a subtle dimension. But mostly, the tartan was added to the circles and made each quilt pop with its own personality.

  “I like what they’ve done,” Ryn said.

  “It just goes to show that my quilters have a lot of ingenuity.” Deydie smiled proudly. “Some old dogs don’t mind learning new tricks, as long as they get to do it their way.” She turned to Ryn. “Ye’re looking peaked. Go get something to eat. Claire brought croissants and scrambled eggs.”

  The morning was going well, but Ryn still didn’t have much of an appetite. But she went to the kitchen area and put some food on her plate, though only nibbling at the food a bit. She was grateful to abandon her breakfast, when a group of quilters had questions about cutting the lightning bolt strips for their quilts. She returned to the front and back to teaching.

  At the next break, Cait brought Ryn a cup of tea, along with a worried look. “How are you doing? Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’ve been a little queasy that’s all.” Ryn wasn’t about to burden her new friend with how bad she really felt.

  Cait pointed to Ryn’s phone lying by the sewing machine. “May I?”

  “Yes.” But Ryn wasn’t sure what Cait wanted with her phone.

  “I’m giving you my number. That way ye’ll have a way to get a hold of me, if you need someone to talk to. Okay?”

  Ryn couldn’t believe the generosity of Cait. “Thank you. I might take you up on it.”

  “I mean it. Call me. Women have to stick together. It’s the only way to get through life’s complications…by leaning on one another.”

  The first day ended with Deydie and Cait treating the group to a lasagna dinner at the restaurant. Ryn wasn’t trying to be rude as her plate sat nearly untouched in front of her. If she felt better, she would’ve gladly eaten the delicious-looking food and would’ve enjoyed the fellowship of the quilters more. They’d been attentive throughout the day and seemed to have forgiven her for whatever she’d done the last time she was in Gandiegow.

  Ryn looked down at her plate again. She just wanted the dinner to be over so she could go to bed.

  At that moment, the door opened and a beautiful, long brown-haired woman with a great figure came in…followed by Tuck! Jealousy whirled to life in Ryn, as the two of them chose a table in her line of sight. The woman and Tuck were close, talking and laughing, and Ryn didn’t like it one bit.

  Bethia laid a hand over Ryn’s tight fist. “That’s Rachel, our hospitality manager. Tuck helped out today to paint one of the quilting dorms.”

  Ryn looked closer and saw the paint splatters on both of them.

  The door opened again and a little girl tore in, gripping a small quilt under her arm. “Mommy! I caught two fish. Brodie helped!”

  A tall, dark-haired, good-looking Scot sauntered in after the girl, grinning. He held a small bucket with a lid on it. This man gave Tuck a run for his money in the gorgeous department.

  Bethia leaned closer to Ryn. “That’s Brodie, Rachel’s husband. And the lassie is Rachel’s daughter, Hannah.”

  Brodie headed straight to Rachel and planted a kiss on her lips. The tight coil inside of Ryn eased a little. She glanced at Tuck and he was staring back at her.

  Brodie held out the bucket to Hannah. “Ask Dominic nicely if he’ll fry them up for ye.”

  Smiling, Rachel rescued the quilt before Hannah took the bucket from Brodie. “I thought we decided her fish quilt couldn’t go out on the boat anymore.”

  Brodie shrugged, beaming. “The lass insisted her quilt missed going out to sea.”

  Rachel laughed. “You spoil her.”

  Brodie leaned down again and whispered in his wife’s ear.

  “Get a room,” Tuck said. Once again, his eyes returned to Ryn.

  The quilters started scooting back their chairs and breaking up. Cait and Deydie were already at the counter, paying the bill.

  Bethia patted Ryn’s now relaxed hand. “I’ll show ye where ye’ll be staying—the room over the pub.”

  “No,” Ryn said, glancing first at Tuck and then at her bag with her clothes in it by the door. “I’ll be fine. Deydie pointed out the pub earlier. She said there’s only the one bedroom at the top of the stairs. Besides, I’d like to finish my tea first.” What she’d really like to do was to keep an eye on Tuck for a little while longer.

  But then the man in question surprised her, as he hailed Bethia from two tables over. “I’ll make sure the lass gets to the pub safely.”

  Bethia nodded as if safely was code for something more intimate. “Right. I’ll let ye sort Ryn out.”

  Ryn’s face felt as warm as her hot tea. She took a sip to hide her embarrassment. “Thanks for everything,” she mumbled to Bethia.

  “We’ll see ye bright and early in the morn?” Bethia asked. As if Ryn might find more interesting things to do between now and then.

  “Yes, first thing in the morning.”

  Bethia rose from her chair and met up with Deydie at the front door. The two of them spoke and then turned back to Ryn. Bethia was smiling, but Deydie wasn’t. She looked as if she wanted to warn Ryn again about shenanigans and what that could lead to.

  Unfortunately, Tuck scooted back his chair and stood. “Rachel, Brodie, if you don’t mind, I’m going to join Ryn, so she won’t have to sit alone.”

  The two turned to Ryn.

  “She could come and join us,” Rachel offered.

  “Nay,” Tuck said quickly. “We have Whussendale things to discuss.” He left and took the seat across from Ryn.

  She frowned at him. “What Whussendale things?”

  Tuck cocked his head at the counter and whispered. “They’re newlyweds. With Hannah, they don’t get much alone time.”

  Ryn glanced over to see Hannah seated at the counter with a coloring book, crayons, and a chocolate milk. The restaurant owners and patrons seemed to work in unison to give Brodie and Rachel a few moments alone.

  Ryn wondered what it would feel like to be part of a community who cared about her as much as Gandiegow cared for the newlyweds.

  “That’s very astute of you.” Ryn took another sip of tea. “Are you staying in Gandiegow tonight? It’s kind of late to be going back to Whussendale, isn’t it?”

  “Aye. I’m staying in town. Ross asked me to take over for him in the morning as his wife Sadie needs routine blood tests done first thing. She’s waiting on a kidney transplant.” Tuck filled Ryn in on Sadie’s condition and how Sadie’s brother Oliver was going to share a kidney with his sister.

  “And you, Ryn? How are ye feeling?” Tuck asked. “I was worried about ye this morning.”

  Damn him for being a caring person, making her feel all soft and fluffy inside. “I’m fine. My stomach was a little messed up this morning. All is good now.”

  Tuck glanced down at her full plate of food. “Are ye sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes. I just want to go to bed.”

  Tuck stood. “I’ll get yere bag.”

  But Ryn got that feeling everyone had eyes on them again. “No. You stay and eat. I can get it.”

  Apparently, though, Tuck was deaf. By the time she stood up, he was waiting for her at the door.

  Once outside, she turned to him. “Aren’t you a little concerned with how this looks?”

  “How what looks?”

  “Stop playing dumb.”

  Tuck came to a stop. “If I worried every time Gandiegow judged me, I’d never know a moment’s peace.” He gazed out at the sea. “I don’t care what they think.”

  She knew he did care. As they walked through town, the noise from the pub got louder and louder. When Deydie had shown her The Fisherman earlier, the place hadn’t been open. And Ryn hadn’t given a thought to staying above the bar. But the pub was de
finitely alive now. It wasn’t just the noise that was getting to Ryn. She worried what everyone would think if Tuck took her inside, sporting her night bag over his arm. Would they think they were shacking up tonight?

  She grabbed his sleeve, bringing them to a stop just outside the pub. “Let me go in alone.”

  But Tuck didn’t act as if her words had registered. He was staring down at her hand on his arm. She read the emotion and wasn’t surprised when he pulled her into the shadows, leaned her up against the wall, and kissed her. Hard.

  It was surreal—the drums from inside reverberating against her back, the wail of the pipes, and the pounding of her heart.

  She laid her hand against his chest and pushed. “What about keeping a distance?”

  “Screw the distance.” And he kissed her again. With more passion. Her breath caught as she could feel his heart beating against her palm.

  She clutched his shirt and pulled him closer. He kissed her neck and moved lower. She adjusted so he could get to any part of her he wanted.

  He had a way of making her forget everything, especially her resolve.

  The pub door slammed and footsteps fell on the stone porch. Tuck grabbed her hand and they ran for the back of the pub, where he pinned her against the wall again. This time, though, he cupped her cheek gently. “New plan.” He took a couple of deep breaths. “Forget everything I said before.” He kissed her again, but when his hand slipped under her shirt and cupped her bra-covered breast, she pulled away.

  “Too fast.” She wiggled out of his arms, adjusting her shirt. She couldn’t get perspective with Tuck so near. She still felt his handprint against her skin, how it had moved intimately up her back and then around to her front. “I better get inside and to bed.”

  Tuck gave her a teasing smile. “That’s a hell of an invitation. Aye, I’ll join you.”

  “Alone.” But that one word was so hard to say. “We can’t be lovers, Tuck.” Not now. Her plans were revising quickly. What if she took the time for them to be friends first? Maybe then she wouldn’t turn into a lovesick idiot!

  The expression on Tuck’s face transformed into hurt, and then anger. “Is there someone else?”

  “Yes. Me.”

  But that seemed to throw him off even further. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m working through some things.” She had no intention of explaining the truth—how she’d fallen many times for the wrong guy. She was afraid if she shared even a little part of her story, she’d end up embarrassing herself, and bearing too much of her soul in the process.

  “What things?” He looked offended now, as if he’d been lead on, only to have his face slapped.

  Ryn put out her hand. “I’ll take my bag.”

  Without argument, he handed it over and stayed where he was while she walked to the front of the building. It was too soon to congratulate herself for being strong. For resisting him.

  It took everything she had to pull open the pub door and go inside. She wanted nothing more than to run back out, throw herself at him, and be encircled within his strong arms again.

  Instead, she ignored the crowd and marched up the steps behind the bar and made it to her bed alone.

  * * *

  Tuck slumped against the stone building. He couldn’t believe he’d been so weak. But the Almighty couldn’t blame him for wanting to have Ryn look at him again with those soft eyes of hers. And the contentment he felt when he held her in his arms…

  He sighed.

  Besides, Ryn wasn’t Elspeth. But the lass certainly had Elspeth’s play book—driving him crazy.

  “Effing hell,” he said on an exhale. Why couldn’t he have kept his distance?

  Though the pub was right here, it wouldn’t do any good to try to drink his worries away. With Ryn above stairs, he wouldn’t put it past himself to sneak up there, climb into bed, and kiss her until he felt whole…and contented again.

  15

  Maggie stepped through the entrance to the hospital, knowing her routine of seeing John should be old hat by now. But to her core, she felt like a rowboat without oars—adrift, directionless. She wasn’t herself anymore. She always thought she was a strong woman, but now she was as sturdy and mighty as a squid splayed on the dance floor. Life had beaten her up and thrashed her about. She barely had the energy to take the elevator up to her husband’s floor.

  Aye, she shouldn’t feel like she was treading water. There were plenty of things for her to do. Deydie certainly had high expectations, wanting her to get the next Whussendale Kilts and Quilts Retreat going. She didn’t even have the wherewithal to give a proper thank you to her American cousin for taking over as she’d done. Maggie should invite her to dinner or bake her a cake.

  But truthfully, Maggie had nothing left to offer. And the only person to blame for her life’s upheaval was Tuck. His easy-go-lucky manner had left John hanging. Now her husband was a shell of the man he used to be.

  If only John would get better. His injury was healing, but losing his hand had caused his spirit to fester, infecting and killing his good nature, and destroying the life they’d known together. Damn Tuck for tearing my life apart.

  She reached John’s floor and plastered on a smile. He couldn’t see her dismay. Her biggest problem today was she had to tell him of her conversation with Mum last night. He wouldn’t like it. Just more bad news for him.

  She opened the door and walked in. Ross and Ramsay stood, both looking upset.

  “We better head out,” Ross said.

  “Get well, brother.” Ramsay was known far-and-wide for his laughing teasing manner. But there were no smiles and light-heartedness now.

  John didn’t even glance up as his brothers left.

  Maggie knew her brothers-in-law wanted to speak to her in the hallway, but she couldn’t discuss with anyone her worry—John was slipping away from them all and would never be the same again.

  “Close the door,” her husband said, as if the chill of death had passed through him.

  Maggie did as he asked, but remained by the door.

  “I’m not a wee babe,” John said. “I don’t need babysitters.”

  “They weren’t here as sitters. Your brothers wanted to see you,” Maggie defended.

  “I’m capable of being alone. Ye shouldn’t have asked them to come…to leave their boats, their wives. I won’t be a burden.”

  Each encounter with her husband left Maggie more fearful. She couldn’t go stand by him, else he would see how she trembled. And even scarier, the Almighty, whom she’d trusted in her whole life, had forsaken them all—Ross and Ramsay, she and the kids.

  “I’ll be right back.” She escaped out into the hall, going in the opposite direction of her brothers-in-law, and headed for the restroom. She barely had the door closed behind her, when the tears began to come.

  “Help me,” she cried.

  The path ahead was blurred and she didn’t know what to do next. There was no way out of the despair that surrounded her. And even worse, there was no way to jar her husband back into being the man she’d known him to be.

  * * *

  Ryn was so exhausted that the noise downstairs didn’t really register, as she pulled the brightly-colored sheep quilt over her bone-weary body. She didn’t sleep well, though. She felt chilled and her stomach pained her all night.

  In the morning, when she looked in the mirror, she was shocked to see how pale she was—the whitest of muslins. She put on extra blush, hoping no one would notice.

  Though everyone at Quilting Central was doing a good job on their quilts, the morning crept toward the noon hour at a snail’s pace. Ryn declined to have lunch with them.

  Deydie stopped her at the door. “Where are ye going?”

  It was raining too hard outside to say she was going for a stroll, so Ryn told the truth. “I’m headed back to the room over the pub to lie down for a few minutes.”

  “Good,” Deydie said, surprising her. “Ye look like hell.”

  R
yn gave a half-hearted laugh. “I’ll be back before one. Promise.” But the truth was, she wasn’t sure she could keep it.

  * * *

  At one o’clock, Tuck finished up on the boat, and without realizing it at first, he headed straight for Quilting Central. He should go to the parsonage to check in with his brother or to Pasta & Pastries to grab a bite to eat. Instead, he stupidly marched toward the one woman who wanted nothing to do with him.

  He’d gone a bit mad. Shouldn’t he want to be shot by a harpoon rather than to see Ryn again? Wouldn’t it be better to have any sort of torture than to gaze upon the near identical face of his ex? God, he didn’t want to stir up those old feelings and relive the pain of the past. But apparently, his rational brain and his blasted feet weren’t on the same page. He halted under Quilting Central’s metal sign which hung above the door.

  After taking a deep breath, he went in. But as he scanned the room, he didn’t see Ryn.

  Deydie waddled to the front and stepped up on the low-rise stage. She frowned down at her men’s wristwatch before looking up at the quilters and clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “While we wait for the American lass to return, I need to let you know the hairdresser will be here next Thursday, if ye’re in need. Stop by the General Store and pick yere time. Meagan’ll not be back in Gandiegow again until the end of May. And some of ye, I might add, are looking pretty rough.”

  Tuck thought that was the caldron calling the kettle black. The bun at the back of Deydie’s head was half undone with her white tendrils escaping down her hunched back.

  Deydie cleared her throat loudly over the whispering women. “In the last week, we had three more groups sign up for retreats. We’re close to having the rest of the year booked out. Make sure to look at the schedule and sign up for the times that work for ye.”

  Deydie’s worried gaze traveled to the door, but found him instead. She nodded in his direction, as if telling him to stay, but spoke to the room. “Git back to work on yere quilts now. I’ll check where that lass is.”