Blame It on Scotland

by Patience Griffin

  Too late for him. Deydie barreled in his direction as if she was a freighter and he was a dinghy in her path.

  “Tuck, find that lassie and drag her back here by the hair, if need be. She promised to be back by one, but as ye can see, it’s coming on half past.”

  Tuck could’ve begged off, if he’d been faster to come up with a reasonable excuse. But only the truth sat in his brain, flashing like a neon sign: Being near the lass makes me feel things I shouldn’t. He couldn’t say this aloud. And Deydie, the old bat, wouldn’t she have a heyday with that information? Probably take her broom to his head and then blab the truth all over town.

  “Where did she say she was going?” he asked.

  “To lie down in the room over the pub.” Deydie shook her head. “Aye, she didn’t look well this morning.” Her old face scrunched up like a prune. “But that’s no excuse for missing a quilt retreat.”

  He nodded and quickly left for the pub. His hurried pace matched his level of concern. When he arrived, Ryn wasn’t coming down the stairs, which was the scenario he’d played out in his mind on the trek over.

  He crossed the room to the bar and took the wooden staircase leading up, two at a time. The upper level only had two rooms—the restroom and the bedroom, where sometimes out of town guests stayed.

  He knocked on her door. “Lass, are ye all right?”

  “No,” she said with a groan.

  “I’m coming in.” He gave her a second to cover up, in case she was indecent. But when he went in, she was fully clothed with the sheep quilt twisted around her, her body curled up into a ball, and arms hugging her middle. She was as pale and white as the kirk’s steeple.

  He rushed to the side of her bed and squatted down. “What’s wrong?” He brushed back the hair from her face, as the warmth of her cheeks registered. “Ye’ve got a fever.”

  “I don’t feel good.”

  He pressed his hand against her forehead and took a moment to gently caress her hair before reaching for his phone. “Don’t worry. I’ll call Doc MacGregor. He’ll fix ye up.”

  Doc picked up on the second ring. “What’s going on, Tuck?”

  “I’m calling about Ryn Breckenridge, the lass from America. She’s sick, Doc. Can ye come over right away to the pub?”

  “Nay. I’m at the hospital. Give her the phone and let me speak with her?”

  “Sure.” Tuck put his phone in Ryn’s hand. “Doc wants to talk to you.” He didn’t move away to give her privacy, because he couldn’t stop stroking her hair, her arm, hoping to give her comfort.

  Ryn brought the phone up to her ear. “Hello.”

  She listened and then answered Doc’s questions. “I’ve felt kind of lousy for the last month or so. My stomach has been hurting. Sometimes it’s worse than others.” She paused. “Yes. I’ve had a little fever here and there. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  Panicked, she looked up at Tuck. “Is that necessary?” Then she handed the phone back to him.

  “What’s going on, Doc?”

  “Bring her to the hospital. I’ll check her out here.”

  “We’re on our way.” Tuck hung up. She looked helpless, but he knew that was just the illness. He’d discovered a thing or two about Ryn—she was one tough and gutsy lass. Tough as any Scottish woman. For her to come all the way to Scotland alone…

  “I know ye like to argue with me,” he said. “But ye’ll not argue with Doc MacGregor. Let me help ye up.”

  She nodded, looking like a whooped pup.

  He knelt down and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Lean on me.”

  “What about the quilt retreat?” she asked as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

  He paused, close to her. Even though she was sick, and he shouldn’t, he drank her in as if she was whisky and he craved intoxication. “When we get to the car, use my phone to call Deydie. She’ll understand.”

  “She said I looked like hell,” Ryn said wryly.

  Together, they stood, but she winced as she tried to straighten up.

  “I’ve got you,” he assured her. “The car park isn’t far.” He grabbed her purse as he helped her out the door. “The stairs are too narrow for us to go side by side.” He went first and she leaned on him while he slowly walked down. At the bottom, he quickly and easily scooped her into his arms.

  She waggled her feet, but didn’t seem to have the energy to give a full-fledge protest. “I can walk. Put me down.”

  “Be still.” With long strides, he made it to the door. “I’m speeding up the process.” He was careful as he crossed over the threshold—a reverse wedding night scenario. A memory flashed across his mind. He’d been ridiculous back then when he’d planned how he was going to carry Elspeth on their wedding night.

  But this is a different lass.

  Ryn laid her head on his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. He glanced down at her. Aye, totally different. She looked up at him with something close to gratitude and then she shut her eyes. From this angle, she didn’t look a thing like Elspeth. Maybe he should hold Ryn close at all times.

  As they got to the car park, an auto came down the hill with St. Andrew in the driver’s seat. Tuck didn’t stop. He went straight to Hugh’s loaner and put Ryn to her feet, though he still supported her.

  Andrew pulled up beside them and rolled down his window. He seemed judgmental until his eyes darted to Ryn. He softened with concern. “What’s happening?”

  “Ryn isn’t well. Doc MacGregor wants to see her at the hospital as he can’t get away. Will ye do me a favor and let Deydie know?”

  “Aye.”

  “Thank you,” Ryn said weakly as she slipped into the car.

  Andrew addressed Tuck. “Call me from the hospital. Let me know how she’s doing.”

  “Will do.” Tuck got behind the wheel and started the car. He glanced over to make sure Ryn was strapped in. “I’ll get ye there safely.”

  He backed the car out and drove up the hill. As he hurried to the hospital, he couldn’t help compare the last time he’d driven there. He wondered about Raymond, the one who’d had the heart attack, hoping it all turned out well for him.

  Tuck glanced worriedly over at Ryn again. Doc didn’t mention anything about her condition being life threatening, though it was disconcerting he needed to see her right away. Ryn didn’t look good, so Tuck prayed like he hadn’t since he was a lad, when he’d been a true believer. Lord, please let her be okay. I really care for her!

  That thought was a heavy revelation. Tuck had made his decision to keep his distance, but he was close enough now to reach out and touch her. He hit a rough spot in the road, and as the car pitched forward, she winced. He took her hand and gently squeezed. “Sorry. I’ll do better. Everything’s going to be okay.” He squeezed again to give his words credence, but also to reassure himself.

  She gave him a weak smile, before laying her head back and closing her eyes.

  “I’ll warn you if there are any other rough patches.” The words should’ve been benign, but the statement seemed to come from someplace deep within him. A scary place. A place full of meaning and compassion. A place he hadn’t allowed another woman to occupy since he was seventeen. He pulled his hand away and tightly gripped the steering wheel, driving a bit faster.

  An hour later, he pulled into the hospital. “Can you walk or do I need to get you a wheelchair?”

  “I’ll walk.” She undid her seatbelt.

  He disembarked and hurried to the other side, helping her out. Once inside the hospital, he put Ryn in a chair, grabbed her paperwork from the front desk, and then rang Doc.

  “I’ll be out in a few minutes to get her,” Doc said.

  “I’ll let her know.” Tuck turned back to Ryn to give her the news, but as weak as she was, she still had the wherewithal to slap a hand over her paperwork.

  Was she hiding it from him? Tuck understood—some things were personal—but it still made him wonder. He took his eyes off her paperwork and brought
them back up to her face. “Doc MacGregor is with a patient, but will come get ye in a minute.” He gave her an encouraging smile.

  But Doc didn’t come. Instead, he sent a nurse. Before there could be any argument, Tuck made it clear he wasn’t sending Ryn off into the belly of the hospital alone. “I’m her husband.”

  Ryn’s look of shock was comical. He dared her to contradict him with a raised eyebrow, but the little minx opened her mouth anyway, and he knew she meant to set the nurse straight. He had no choice but to silence her with a quick kiss. While he was so close, he whispered into her ear. “They won’t let me stay with you, if they think I’m anyone beside yere family. Roll with it, luv. I’m not letting ye go in alone.” He glanced at the double doors to get his meaning across. “Okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  Tuck supported Ryn as they followed the nurse to the triage room. The nurse retrieved a tourniquet and a syringe off a small stainless steel table. “I need to draw some blood.”

  Ryn shifted toward her, turned ghostly white, and then passed out.

  Although he was shook up, Tuck caught her before she slipped out of her chair. “What’s wrong with her?” he demanded from the nurse, his heart beating wildly. Then he gently shook Ryn. “Ryn? Ryn?”

  Doc MacGregor walked in, seeming unfazed by her unconscious condition. “Tuck, put her on the table.”

  “What happened to her?” Tuck’s heart wouldn’t go back to normal. But he did as he was told.

  “It was the needle,” the nurse explained, as she put a smelling capsule under Ryn’s nose.

  Doc picked up Ryn’s limp wrist and patted it. “Ryn, wake up.”

  Ryn roused. “What happened?”

  “Ye fainted,” Tuck said, not feeling fully relieved.

  “Relax. It’s normal,” Doc reassured. “It’s completely harmless, as long as there’s someone there to protect the patient if they fall. A certain percentage of the population has the same reaction as our new friend here.”

  Tuck rolled his eyes at Doc’s chattering. Why doesn’t Gabe get on with it and find out what’s wrong with her?

  Ryn nodded. “I should’ve warned you. I’ve had this problem my whole life.”

  “Ye scared the shite out of me,” Tuck said.

  Doc stuck his hand out to Ryn. “I’m Gabriel MacGregor. It’s nice to meet the quilter who’s caused quite a stir in Gandiegow with yere…what’s it called?”

  “Modern quilt,” Tuck provided.

  Doc frowned over at him. “Ye need to leave so I can examine my patient. I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

  Tuck opened his mouth to argue, but Ryn stopped him.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  He took her hand and ran his thumb over it. “Are ye sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Reluctantly, Tuck placed her hand back in her lap and let go. “I’ll be right outside.”

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him. “Ye’ll be in the waiting room.”

  “Aye.” Tuck left and made his way back out. But once there, he couldn’t sit or relax. Instead, he paced until Gabe appeared with a frown on his face.

  Tuck rushed over to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ryn’s being prepped for surgery. It’s her appendix.”

  “Surgery?” Tuck’s blood pressure rose. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “I’ll let you know how she’s doing, once she’s out.” Gabriel nodded and then rushed off.

  Tuck pulled out his mobile and called his brother. As the phone rang, he told himself he was only calling to give an update on Ryn, and not because he knew his brother’s voice would calm him.

  “What’s going on?” Andrew asked. “Is Ryn all right?”

  “Doc is taking her to surgery. Appendix.”

  Andrew didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll get Moira and then we’ll be on our way.”

  “Ye don’t—” Tuck tried, but Andrew had already hung up.

  The next hour crept by. He couldn’t stop thinking about how pale and weak Ryn had been, making every bad scenario surface in his mind. It didn’t help that the hands on the clock were going in slow motion.

  It was nearly two hours before Doc came through the double doors and straight to him. “Sorry about the wait. I had to rush off to another emergency after Ryn’s. She’s in the recovery room and doing fine.”

  Tuck’s chest opened up and he could finally draw a deep breath…something he hadn’t been able to do since seeing Ryn lying in the room over the pub, curled up in a ball.

  “She’s going to be okay,” Gabe said. “The question is, are you?”

  “Can I see her?” Tuck asked eagerly. It was too late to be cool and calm. Doc had already seen him acting the fool, fawning all over Ryn.

  “Nay. In a while. I’ll let you know when you can come back. Go get some tea and biscuits.” Doc laid a hand on his shoulder. “Relax. Yere lass is going to recover just fine.”

  Tuck didn’t correct him, but went to find something to drink. Just as he was ordering a cup of tea, his phone rang.

  “Where are you?” Andrew asked.

  “Café,” Tuck said.

  The next hour’s wait wasn’t nearly as stressful. Knowing Ryn was all right, and the fact that Andrew and Moira were there beside him, made his two cups of tea and three tea cakes go down better than if he’d been on his own. Ryn is going to be okay, Tuck kept telling himself.

  When Doc texted him Ryn’s room number, Tuck wanted to head out immediately, but shared the info with Andrew first. “She’s in room 423.”

  Andrew stood, but Moira, still sitting, put a hand on his arm. “Tuck, ye go on. We’ll visit with her when ye’re done.” Moira’s voice was always soothing, but right now, her words had a gentle firmness that Tuck appreciated.

  “Thanks.” Tuck hurried to the elevators.

  When he got to Ryn’s room, he took a deep breath, before opening the door. He found her dozing.

  She must’ve sensed he was there, because she opened her eyes. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he said back, stupidly, but he was so happy. “How are ye feeling?”

  She smiled. “I’m not feeling a thing.” She lifted her arm with the IV. “There must be some happy juice flowing in here.”

  “Aye. Painkillers. Doc said you’re going to be fine.” Tuck grinned at her as if he was a savant. He took her hand and squeezed. He never realized how good it felt to have someone special, and to be by her side when she needed him most.

  “When do I get to go home?”

  Tuck’s stomach flinched at the thought. I don’t want ye to go home. I want ye here with me, here in Scotland. But the statement would’ve been inappropriate and would’ve shocked her. Hell, he was shocked to have the notion even cross his mind.

  Ryn studied his face. “Why the frown? Did Doc say when I can get out of here?”

  “Oh. He didn’t say.” Tuck’s pulse returned to normal and he relaxed. So she didn’t mean she wanted to go back to the States.

  He pulled up a chair and sat down. “Andrew and Moira are downstairs.”

  Ryn looked surprised. “They are? They didn’t have to come.” She paused as if selecting the right words. “Thank you for bringing me, but you don’t have to stay, either.”

  He answered truthfully. “Yes, I do have to stay.”

  “Because the Laird said so?” She frowned, as if she already knew the answer to it.

  “Nay. I’m staying because I want to be by your side.”

  “Oh.” She seemed as if she’d been taken off-guard.

  Well, hell, it was about time she had a clue of what he’d been going through. Since meeting Ryn, she’d kept him off-guard, too. How could this emotional teeter-totter, she’d caused within him make him feel more right with the world than he’d ever been?

  The door opened and a nurse walked in. “I need to check yere incisions.”

  Tuck nodded to Ryn. “I’ll step out and tell Andrew and Moira how you’re doing. If I know them, they’ll want to
pop up to see you. Is that okay?”

  Ryn nodded and Tuck left.

  His step felt lighter and his chest did, too. He turned the corner and nearly ran into a couple—a bathrobed man who was clutching a woman’s arm.

  Tuck was high, still feeling the effects of Ryn being okay. And just being around her. It took a moment for his brain to catch up with what he was seeing, and then another moment for it to fully register who it was in front of him. And who it was he nearly toppled!

  John and Maggie. Oh, God!

  Subconsciously, Tuck scanned John. Before he could stop himself, his eyes fell to where John’s missing limb should be, but wasn’t…and Tuck felt sick.

  16

  “John?” Tuck wasn’t prepared to see him and didn’t know what to say.

  How’re ye doing? seemed asinine, as his appearance and demeanor made it clear how John was doing: John looked like he’d been rolled under the boat.

  And Tuck couldn’t say, I’m sorry for what I did to ye. Much too late for that. Sorry certainly didn’t come close to describing how tortured Tuck felt over his part in John getting hurt. They stared at each other for a long moment.

  John glanced over at Maggie and growled, “Go.”

  At first, Tuck thought John was telling Maggie to leave them alone, but it took Maggie turning and pulling John away from him to understand.

  John blamed him. Utterly. Completely.

  And Tuck couldn’t blame John for it.

  Tuck blamed himself, too.

  * * *

  When Tuck returned to Ryn’s hospital room with Andrew and Moira, Tuck was as pale as her hospital gown, as if he’d seen a ghost. She wasn’t the only one who was concerned about Tuck…the priest was worried about his brother, too. Andrew kept glancing over at him.

  Moira came over shyly. “How are ye?”

  “Better,” Ryn said. “I feel bad about the retreat, though. I hope Deydie isn’t too upset with me.”

  Moira’s laugh sounded like soothing wind chimes. “Deydie’s upset that you didn’t tell her how bad ye were feeling. Ye’ll probably get an earful when she arrives.”