It Happened in Scotland

by Patience Griffin

  “No. Never.” Rachel held such sadness in her eyes. “He had a temper. But he never hurt me and he never hurt Hannah.” She shuddered as if imagining it. “I left because he was cheating on me.” She paused for a long second, then squared her shoulders. “When he gave me an STD, I moved out and took Hannah with me.”

  Brodie couldn’t help himself. He reached over and took her hand, squeezing gently. “Ye did the right thing.” She didn’t need to hear his words, but he needed to reassure her anyway.

  She nodded her head as if she agreed.

  He didn’t let go of her. Maybe he needed bolstering up while he told her the rest. “It was a week later, ye know, when the Rose went down.” He glanced over to see if she took his meaning.

  Her puzzled look said she didn’t.

  “The ship our fathers were on. Joe’s, mine, Claire’s, and many others in town. Fourteen in all. The Rose was lost in a storm on Valentine’s Day. That accident changed Gandiegow and we lost more than the men. We lost whole families. Many of my friends had to leave town so their mothers could find work. Like Claire’s mum had to do.”

  She squeezed his hand back. “I’m so sorry about your father. It must’ve been horrible for you and your mother, and the others in the village.”

  “It was.” He and his mum moved in with Abraham. Until, of course, she remarried. “But in a weird way, it was especially hard on Joe. Though ye never would’ve known it for how he acted.” Now that Brodie had maturity and perspective on his side, he couldn’t imagine what his cousin must’ve gone through. “Joe never grieved for his da. At the time, it made sense—a week earlier, his father had nearly killed him. But he should’ve grieved. Even a little.” And this was the reason Brodie would always love Joe. He grasped why his cousin had turned hard, calloused, and shallow . . . and smooth. His emotional growth had been stunted on the night his father had taken him to task. For Joe had been beaten when he’d done nothing more than do the things lads were known to do.

  It also had to be the reason Brodie felt such a strong need to protect Joe’s child. He felt it in his soul he’d do anything to safeguard Hannah so she would never have to know the pain her father had gone through.

  Rachel, though, was still chewing her lip. “But Abraham . . .” She hesitated. “Did he ever . . . hit your uncle? Or you? Or Joe?”

  Brodie understood what she was getting at. If abusers come from abusers, then that would mean Grandda must’ve taught Uncle Richard how to be the way he was. “Nay. Not once. Grandda runs a tight ship but never uses corporal punishment. He’s a fair man.” Brodie had given this a lot of thought and believed he knew why Uncle Richard was the way he was. “Uncle Richard drank too much. He was so bitter toward Joe’s mum for leaving him. He never got over what she did. He never moved on.” Abraham, in that respect, was responsible, because he had a habit of speaking disparagingly about women. Though, since Brodie had returned home from Here Again Farm, Grandda hadn’t spoken ill of women once. Not a word about them being untrustworthy.

  But Brodie’s own thoughts became a snare and tightened around his chest. Uncle Richard was so bitter toward Joe’s mum . . . he never moved on.

  Brodie’s temples throbbed. He couldn’t find his breath. He dropped Rachel’s hand suddenly, remembering how she’d hurt him. How bitter he still felt toward her. How he hadn’t moved on. A terrible thought hit him, In this, I’m exactly like my Uncle Richard. Through his whole life, Brodie had judged his uncle, never understanding how he could’ve been that kind of man.

  Brodie stalked away, without a word to Rachel, suddenly needing to be alone more than he needed his next breath of air.

  * * *

  Rachel stood at Joe’s graveside, not quite sure what had transpired. She was still processing what had happened to her husband when he was only a boy. More perplexing, and at the same time satisfying, was that she and Brodie had connected, talked like they had six years ago . . . before she’d hurt him. He’d even held her hand. But she hadn’t anticipated he would run away.

  “It’s all your fault,” she said to Joe’s tombstone. Immediately, she felt guilty. She hadn’t known what her husband had gone through. It explained a lot.

  “Sorry,” she said to Joe.

  That was the problem when remembering someone who was dead, especially when it came to her husband. She had a tendency to either blame herself, or Joe for all the ways he’d wronged her, or make him a saint for the good things he’d done. Joe wasn’t completely good or bad . . . he had only been a flawed human being like everyone else in the world. From what Brodie told her, there was a reason Joe might’ve been the person he was. For the next hour, instead of venting to Joe about how he’d let her down, she filled him in on Hannah and the kind of person she was turning out to be. By the time Rachel was done, she felt lighter, as if the weight of their failed marriage had been lifted a little. She wiped away the tears and headed back to the cottage to get Hannah.

  She found her daughter in the parlor, next to Abraham, with her tablet in his lap.

  Hannah looked up and grinned at Rachel. “I taught Grandda how to use yere iPad. I told him to keep it and play games while I’m at school in the morning. It’ll give him something to do until I can get here. Is that okay, Mommy?”

  “Sure. That’s fine.”

  Abraham smiled up at her, too. “Ye look as if ye could use a nightcap.”

  So even to his worn-out eyes, her spent tears were visible.

  “Mommy, are ye all right?”

  “Yes. It’s just the cold outside.” Rachel remembered the last nightcap she’d made in this parlor and how it hadn’t turned out well. It seemed nothing was turning out as she’d like it.

  There was a knock at the door. For a brief moment, she hoped it would be Brodie, but he wouldn’t be knocking. “I’ll get it.”

  She left Hannah and Abraham and went to the front. When she opened the door, a tall, blond, very good-looking man stood there, smiling at her.

  “Hallo,” he said. He looked over his shoulder as if someone might be watching. “I’m Tuck MacBride. Father Andrew’s brother.”

  Yes. Moira’s brother-in-law. There’d been a lot of talk about him at Quilting Central among the natives. As it was, she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t in good favor with the people of Gandiegow. Tuck had wronged them in one way or another, but none of it seemed specific. The only thing Rachel knew for sure was he’d missed his brother’s wedding. In Gandiegow, loyalty to family and community stood head and shoulders above everything else. According to the whispers in town, Tuck only cared about himself.

  He leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms over his chest nonchalantly, seeming to assess her from head to toe. “I’ve seen ye from afar. Would ye like to go to the pub with me and have a drink?”

  He was so overly confident that she laughed.

  Tuck frowned, standing up straight, but then he donned another smile.

  “I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I have to get my daughter to the quilting dorm.” She could think of a hundred reasons why she shouldn’t go to the pub with him. Number one on the list was Brodie.

  “Can I walk ye and the lass back then?” Tuck was very charming.

  “No. But thanks for the offer.” She went to shut the door, but he put his hand out to stop it.

  “Hold up,” he said.

  But from behind him, as if she had binoculars for eyes, she saw Brodie off in the distant. Brodie halted, taking in the scene. Then he stomped in her direction.

  “I have to go.” She pushed Tuck’s hand out of the way and closed the door. She thought about locking it. Something in the way Brodie moved toward the cottage, like a stalking panther, made her think all hell was going to break loose any minute.

  “Hannah, come get your coat,” Rachel said, walking down the hall. The way Brodie looked at Tuck and at her, she could picture him busting throu
gh the door. Was she imagining it or was he really jealous?

  Brodie had done nothing but surprise her since she’d set foot in this village.

  When Rachel stepped into the parlor, Hannah hadn’t budged.

  “I said, let’s go.”

  “I want to stay with Grandda. I want to show him Angry Birds next.”

  “Come away now, or you’re going to have Angry Mother to contend with,” Rachel said, half-joking, half-not-so-much.

  The front door opened and slammed shut. Brodie was to the parlor before Rachel could grab Hannah’s hand and make a run for it.

  “What did he want?” Brodie said quietly. It would’ve been better if he yelled.

  “He was selling Girl Scout cookies,” Rachel said sweetly. “Want some?”

  “What?” Brodie raised his voice then.

  Rachel walked over, laid a hand on his chest, and drove him backward into the hallway. He was all steel. If he’d wanted to stay put, no man on earth could’ve moved him.

  “It was nothing,” she said, almost in a whisper, so as not to upset her daughter or Abraham.

  As if on cue, Abraham started coughing. Rachel wondered if the old man wasn’t covering so she and Brodie could argue without bothering Hannah.

  “Get in the kitchen.” She grabbed his hand and pulled Brodie in that direction.

  When they got there, Brodie stood in the doorway, blocking her from leaving. “Tell me the truth. What did he say?”

  “He introduced himself,” she said honestly.

  “And what else?”

  “Nothing else,” she lied. But then she inserted nothing else that mattered, just to ease her conscience.

  Brodie raised an eyebrow. “Ye have to watch out for him. Tuck,” he said, as if he needed to qualify the him.

  “He seems harmless,” she said. “He’s just a good-looking flirt.” She shouldn’t have added that last bit, but part of her wanted to push the boundaries to see if Brodie might feel something toward her.

  Brodie grabbed her arm and got very close to her face. She didn’t need binoculars now. She had a front row seat to his irises, every emotion playing out in his eyes. He wanted to kiss her. As God as her witness, she wanted to kiss him, too.

  She’d always been impatient. Some might call her impulsive. She grabbed his other arm and pulled him in until his lips met hers.

  He growled against her mouth, “Dammit, Rachel.”

  She didn’t know if it was because he was mad about Tuck or because she hadn’t kissed him sooner. But she didn’t care, because Brodie kissed her back.

  She felt like they were all alone in the world, but they weren’t. Her daughter was in the other room and Rachel didn’t want to confuse her. She, herself, was baffled about what the future would hold, though the two of them kissing was a great place to start. But she couldn’t allow Hannah to see them together until she had a commitment from Brodie. She pulled away, but held on to him, breathing hard.

  “Mommy?”

  Rachel spun around, horrified.

  “Why are ye kissing cousin Brodie?”

  Chapter Eight

  “Ah, hell,” Brodie hissed. He dropped Rachel’s arm and grabbed a magazine off the counter, holding it in front of his jeans.

  Rachel looked to him as if he should explain the birds and the bees to the lass. He’d do anything for this little girl, but he wouldn’t tell her what kind of things could transpire between a man and a woman. He marched from the room. He shouldn’t have come home until he knew the two females were gone.

  A better idea came to him; he should find Tuck and kick his arse.

  He didn’t make it but a step out of the kitchen before he heard Rachel talking soothingly to the girl. He peeked back in.

  Rachel was sitting with her back to him in one of the kitchen chairs with Hannah in her lap. Seeing the mother and child with their heads together was enough to make his heart melt. But then Rachel spoke. “Sometimes adults kiss like that.”

  “I know,” Hannah said. “I’ve seen the people on TV, but I’ve never seen ye do it before.”

  Though it didn’t mean anything, the revelation pleased him verra much.

  “Is that how ye kissed Daddy?”

  Rachel paused for a long second, but then answered, “Yes.”

  “Does that mean ye’re going to marry Brodie?”

  Brodie wanted to leave, but he couldn’t. This scene was like an accident on the highway in which he couldn’t look away.

  Finally Rachel answered, “I kissed Brodie because I like him.”

  He found he could barely draw breath. The partridge on his chest stirred, warming him and nestling in for what seemed like the long haul.

  “I like him, too. Does Brodie like ye back?” Hannah asked.

  Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know, sweetie.”

  He skulked away, because he didn’t know either. If only Rachel hadn’t stomped on his heart before, all this would be so easy. Would he ever be able to forgive her? He didn’t even know where to start. He could ask her why she’d gone through with the wedding, but Brodie wasn’t sure he could withstand the answer. Because I loved Joe and I didn’t love you.

  He went out the front door, walked to the General Store, and signed out one of the community cars. He needed out of this town. Now.

  He drove to Lios and stopped at the pub on the corner. But when he took a seat at the bar, he couldn’t bring himself to order a whisky, thinking it was what Uncle Richard had done on the night he beat Joe. Brodie ordered a soft drink instead, but only drank half before leaving and climbing back in the car.

  Twenty minutes later, he found he was pulling down the lane to his mother’s house. No, Keith and Mum’s house. Brodie threw on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt. Keith and his mother had bought a small farm a few miles from Gandiegow, raising sheep, chickens, and ducks. Brodie had never been to visit, and by God, he wasn’t going to visit now. The house in front of him held another female he couldn’t forgive. To let his mum off the hook would be like betraying his own father. Twenty-four years ago, his mother had no problem two-timing his father’s memory, by marrying Keith within a month of his da dying.

  The curtain in the front picture window stirred and then it was pulled open. Brodie could see his mother’s face staring back. Neither one of them moved as if locked in a strange game of chess. He understood why she didn’t come out to get him. She’d tried hard over the years. At first, she did everything within her power to get him to move in with her and Keith. Later, she had invited him to dinner. Or she’d ask him to Christmas at her house. But he’d stood his ground. Someone in this family had to. He and his mother had come to a cordial understanding, and over the years, he’d settled in for the long haul in his unforgiveness.

  He put the car in reverse, turned it around, and headed back to Gandiegow, making a decision for how it was going to be. He’d survived over the years by putting the heartache aside. He could continue on the same route until Rachel was gone after Christmas. He would do everything in his power not to be around the cottage when she was there with Hannah visiting. He would be congenial to her at their Christmas gathering. But that was it.

  No more kissing her.

  No more pining.

  Being a stubborn hard-ass had worked for him up to this point. It wouldn’t fail him now.

  * * *

  Rachel and Hannah were both quiet as they left Abraham’s. She worried about her daughter. Had witnessing the kiss traumatized her?

  Hannah looked at her. “I’m okay, Mommy.”

  Rachel squeezed her hand. “I know you are.” Hannah was an extraordinary child. She couldn’t really read people’s minds, but she was as sensitive as a Geiger counter when it came to picking up emotions.

  Rachel sighed. Her second chance was much harder to bring about than she ever dream
ed it would be. Now Hannah was involved.

  Farther down the walkway, she spotted Grace Armstrong, looking this way and that, as if on the lookout for someone. Rachel guffawed, Grace’s actions reminding her of her own when she’d been looking for Brodie.

  Rachel pulled her daughter to a halt. “I need to stop in Quilting Central, sweetie. I left my notebook.” She wanted to work a little more on her directions for the Gandiegow Fish quilt. If there was time, she’d like to cut out the pieces after Hannah went to bed.

  “Can I see if they have any biscuits?” Hannah asked, grinning.

  “Aren’t you full from dinner?”

  “Nay.”

  “We’ll see. There may not be any.” Quilting Central, though, was a mecca when it came to snacking. It was a wonder the town’s quilters weren’t three feet wide. But Gandiegow was a walking village and everyone received a lot of exercise with their feet as their only means of transportation.

  Inside the building, the room was abuzz.

  “What’s up?” Rachel asked Amy as Hannah ran off to the counter where the cookies sat.

  “We have a mystery going on here in the village. Things have gone missing. Now that everyone is comparing notes, they are finding out it’s no coincidence.”

  “What kind of things?” Rachel asked.

  “Maggie left a pie on the crate outside her door to cool for a couple of minutes, and when she came back, it was gone. Also, Lochie swears his sandwich was taken from his lunch bucket. Aileen finished a quilt and left it by her sewing machine, but now it’s gone.” Amy leaned in close. “Everyone’s saying it has to be Tuck.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s the only stranger in town,” Amy said matter-of-factly.