He swung her into the air. “Are ye all better then?”
“Aye. Doc says I’m fit as a fiddle.” Hannah hugged him.
Harry came into the hall and waved before heading to the kitchen.
Hannah leaned back and gave Brodie her most disgruntled face. “Why didn’t ye come to see me? I missed ye.”
“I couldn’t. Ye know that, princess. Moira said she explained it to you.”
“Did ye know Doc says I can go back to school tomorrow?”
“School? I thought ye might be leaving for Chicago.”
Was the speculation true then? Had Rachel really been asking after the land next to Thistle Glen Lodge? Did she really mean to build a B and B?
“Mummy says we’re staying here.” Hannah laid a hand on his cheek. “Ye’re glad, aren’t ye, Brodie?”
“So glad.” The partridge on his chest came alive and Brodie took his first full breath in a week. “I’ll get to see ye whenever I want.” He wanted to break into a sea chanty. “How about a tea party?” He couldn’t believe he was suggesting it. “We’ll make Grandda and Harry attend. What do ye think?”
Her eyes lit up with mischief. “Will they let me fix their hair?”
“Of course.” How he loved this little girl. “They have to do what the Chieftain says.”
Hannah’s eyes grew as wide as a captain’s wheel. “I get to be the Chieftain?”
Brodie laughed. “Aye. Ye’ll be the Chieftain. Just like yere da used to be.”
Hannah’s excitement shifted and her brows pulled together in serious thought. “Brodie, now that we’re staying, will ye be my da?”
He stopped breathing and a war began inside him that knew no victor. For a long second he stared into her earnest face, but had to tell her the truth. “I can’t.” She was Joe’s kid. Brodie couldn’t come in and claim her as his own.
She squinted and clutched at his T-shirt. “But ye have to. I say so. I’m the Chieftain. Ye said everyone has to obey the Chieftain.”
He sat on the bench in the foyer with her in his lap and held her close. “Hannah, this is a serious matter and playing the Chieftain is a game. What ye’re asking me to do is a grown-up decision, not one for a child.”
She slipped off his lap and crossed her arms. “Glenna has two daddies. I want two daddies, too.” Her bottom lip stuck out as a warning. She stomped her foot. “Ye have to be my da! I’m the Chieftain!”
Brodie was feeling uncomfortable. He glanced around, hoping Rachel would appear. “It’s more complicated than me being yere da.” Rachel would be part of the deal. But how could he explain that?
Hannah turned red in the face and stomped her foot again and again. “I hate you, Brodie.” She burst into tears and ran upstairs, slamming the bathroom door behind her.
He was stunned, but one thing became clear: He was an idiot. The one Granger woman who loved him now hated his guts. He’d made a real mess of things.
Harry stood in the kitchen doorway, staring at him.
“Leave off,” Brodie said. He didn’t want to discuss this with another child.
Brodie left out the front door and went back to the cold boat. He sat in the wheelhouse and brooded over his situation. At least on his boat, he didn’t have to deal with irrational females. The females weren’t only irrational but unpredictable as well. He never knew what was going to happen from one minute to the next. He could never live like that. He stared out at the calm ocean, but instead of feeling settled, his insides churned as the tide began to change within him.
He wasn’t being truthful with himself. He’d enjoyed the life and noise Hannah and Rachel had infused into the household. Maybe a little unpredictability wasn’t such a bad thing. He thought about the vision he’d had when Rachel and Hannah had been on the dance floor, how he’d seen a man in the picture, too. Could he be that man? Could he take Joe’s family and make them his own? Could he get past his guilt? Of course, Brodie could never forgive Rachel completely for what she’d done to him, but he had positioned himself someplace in the middle . . . a place where he could still hold on to his unforgiveness, and at the same time, he could have the one thing that was missing in his life. He couldn’t name the one thing, but the partridge on his chest being content was a good place to start.
He went back out onto the deck and inhaled deeply the salt of the sea and the cold of winter. Tonight, when Rachel returned, he’d seek her out and explain what had happened today. Surely they could come to some understanding for Hannah’s sake.
Brodie smiled at the arrangement. He could have Hannah for his daughter and at night he’d have Rachel to keep him warm in his bed. It seemed like the perfect solution. They would get married and live like some crazy fairytale . . . happily ever after.
Chapter Eighteen
Rachel decided today officially marked the beginning of her new life. As she pulled into Gandiegow’s parking lot, she glanced over at the folder next to her. Inside was the deed to the property next to Thistle Glen Lodge, future home of Partridge House, her own B and B. She wasn’t trying to punish herself by naming her establishment after a moment she and Brodie had shared. The name was her way of filing away the past and giving it new meaning.
The list was long of things to do and Rachel had been systematically checking them off. After many years at the Winderly Towers, it wasn’t easy to tender her resignation. As hard as it had been, Rachel had been putting off telling the one person who wouldn’t take well her decision to stay here. The one person besides Brodie. Before she went any further, she pulled out her phone, but then looked out at the ocean, watching as the waves rolled in. She sighed, and then finally placed the call.
“Hi, Mom, do you have a minute?”
“Sure. I’m only getting ready to lie down for a nap. Late night, last night.”
“You’re having fun then?” Rachel said, procrastinating.
“Loads. Now what’s going on?”
“I don’t want you to be upset. Okay?”
“Is Hannah all right?” Vivienne’s voice was laced with panic and worry.
“She’s fine. Actually, she’s great. All better and having fun again with her friends.”
“Then what’s this about?” Vivienne’s tone had taken on the lower pitch of impatience.
Rachel bit her lip and then spit it out. “I’m building a B and B.”
“A B and B? But you never wanted a small establishment.”
“What?” Rachel choked. “How did you know?”
“Rachel, I’m your mother. I pay attention. I had hoped you would take over the Sunnydale Hotel, but I knew you wouldn’t. You loved working at the Winderly Towers.”
She was flabbergasted. Her mom had known all along? She paused for a second to let it sink in. All those years, Rachel had fretted for nothing. What wasted time and energy. She should’ve spoken up sooner and told her mom how she was feeling.
“Why a B and B now?” Vivienne asked.
“I’ve changed. A bed and breakfast is perfect for us.”
“I can see that.”
Now came the hard part. Rachel was still getting used to the idea of her mom not being a short drive away. She was just going to come out with it, because the deed was done, literally, lying next to her in the car. “I bought the property next to Thistle Glen Lodge.” She went quiet, waiting for the explosion on the other end.
Her mother only sighed. “My granddaughter certainly loves that village.”
“Then you’re okay with it?”
“Rachel.” Her mother sounded exasperated. “You don’t need my approval. You’re a grown woman.”
Rachel didn’t feel like a grown-up right now. Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “But I’m still your daughter and I’d like to have your blessing.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Vivienne’s laugh felt light and comforting. “Of course you have my bl
essing. I love you. Though I haven’t done the best job of saying it, I believe in you, too.”
The unspoken lay in the ether between them. If only Rachel had been assertive with her mom six years ago—she knew now that’s all it would’ve taken—she would’ve had the confidence to walk away from the wedding that had been planned.
“Mom, I love you, too.”
“I know, darling. Give Hannah a skwunch from me, okay?”
“I will. See you in March?”
“Yes. But Rachel?”
“Hm?”
“Make sure my granddaughter hasn’t immersed herself too much and is only speaking Gaelic when I return.”
Rachel laughed, they said their good-byes, and she hung up. She opened the car door and breathed in the fresh sea air. Today really did feel like a new beginning.
Tonight marked a new beginning, too. Since New Year’s Eve, Tuck had been hounding her to go out with him. She finally agreed, but only on one condition: She wasn’t interested in a relationship. Apparently, neither was he. They were going out as friends, or she wasn’t going at all.
When Rachel arrived at Abraham’s, Hannah didn’t come running out. She found her daughter in the parlor with her grandfather and Harry. She was subdued while Harry and Abraham played checkers.
“What’s going on, peapod?” Rachel asked.
Hannah looked up at her, but it was Harry who answered.
“She and Brodie had a fight.”
Rachel’s mother bear instincts went into high alert. “About what?” Brodie better not have hurt Hannah’s feelings.
Hannah huffed. “He said he won’t be my da.”
Rachel was stunned. “He what?” And though it shouldn’t have, the thought hurt.
Harry once again spoke for her daughter. “She asked Brodie if he would be her da and he said he couldn’t.”
Rachel got that part, and she was sure Hannah was taking it hard, but not as hard as the pit which grew in Rachel’s stomach. It was just another final word from the man she’d loved for so long. She’d buried the second chance she’d wanted with Brodie. She expunged that kind of wishful thinking from her heart. Then why did Brodie’s rejection hurt so much?
Abraham seemed to watch her closely.
Rachel donned a veneer exterior for her daughter’s sake, and hopefully hid how she was dying inside. “Did you hear or see what happened?” she asked the old man.
“I was dozing. Didn’t hear a thing.”
That’s convenient, she thought.
“Brodie left right after, slamming the door,” Harry supplied. “We haven’t seen him since.”
Rachel wanted to give Brodie an earful. It was one thing to reject her, but it was quite another to not let her daughter down gently.
“Hannah, we have to go,” Rachel said. She hated she had to leave her again tonight after being gone today, but this was the life of a single mother. “You’re going to play with Glenna this evening.”
Hannah popped up. “Really?”
“Yup.” Rachel loved that her daughter could snap out of a bad mood quickly. She hoped she was this lucky when Hannah was a teenager. “Abraham? Harry? Do you need anything before we go?”
“Deydie will be by this evening to play canasta.” The old man seemed to brighten just mentioning the bossy quilter’s name.
“I’m going to make myself scarce,” Harry said.
Abraham laughed. “Her bark is worse than her bite.”
Harry grinned. “I know. But still.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow after church,” Rachel supplied.
“See ye later, alligator,” Hannah said.
“After a while, crocodile,” said Abraham and Harry in unison. Abraham seemed happy to oblige Hannah on her ritual; Harry, not so much. But it said loads about him that he would do it for Hannah anyway.
Outside, Hannah skipped while Rachel held her hand. “Where are ye going tonight, Mummy?”
“Out with a friend,” Rachel said truthfully.
“Who?”
Rachel tried to divert her. “What are you going to take to Glenna’s? Your dolls and your stroller?”
“Aye. But just the doll Glenna gave me. I want to show her how happy Dolly is to live with me. Who are ye going out with tonight?”
It wasn’t a big deal. “Tuck.”
“How come ye don’t go out with Brodie?”
Because he never asked me. “Because I’m going out with Tuck. We’re just friends.” It was best to make that clear with Hannah upfront. Rachel suddenly remembered why she had to be careful with whom she saw. Brodie was living proof that Hannah could get attached easily and get her heart broken when things didn’t work out.
Hannah gazed up at her. “Why doesn’t Brodie love us anymore, Mummy?”
Rachel leaned over and picked up her daughter, holding her close. “Make no mistake, sweetie, Brodie still loves you.” Rachel would make sure he fixed whatever had happened between them today. Though it sounded like Hannah had backed him into a corner.
At the quilting dorm, both of them readied for their evenings. Hannah filled her backpack with her guzzy and some doll clothes. Rachel threw on a loose sweater and blue jeans. It was good enough for having dinner at the restaurant.
A knock came at the door.
Rachel needed to put her earrings on. “Can you let Tuck in and tell him I’ll be out in a minute?”
“Sure.” Hannah hopped away as if she were Peter Rabbit, which took twice as long to get to the door as if she’d walked.
Rachel opened the slotted container she used for her jewelry. The first thing that caught her eye was Brodie’s locket. She needed to return it, and she would. Her head said it was past time, but her heart wanted to hang on to it a little while longer.
Hannah yelled from the living room, “Ye’re right, Mummy. It’s Tuck.”
Good. No surprises. Rachel had to keep telling herself that going out this evening was the right thing to do; it was good for her. She walked out of the bedroom and down the hall. Tuck looked handsome and the man knew it. By the amount of products in his hair and the perfect turn of his cuffs, he was one of those guys who put time into his appearance.
Rachel picked up her purse. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to drop Hannah at your brother’s.”
“I’m playing with Glenna,” Hannah piped in. “Mummy has a date.”
Tuck’s eyebrow went up. “That’s good to know.” He looked as if Hannah’s words were a green light on more interesting activities than friendship tonight.
“Yes, a date between friends,” Rachel added firmly.
She helped Hannah with her coat, Tuck grabbed the pink backpack, and Hannah manned the buggy with Dolly inside. To an outsider, they probably looked like a cozy family heading out for a stroll. But on the other side of the door, Rachel stopped dead in her tracks at who stood there.
Brodie!
He seemed to take in the scene as if witnessing a crime, cataloging every detail, his shock playing out on his face.
Hannah glanced at Rachel. “Ye were right, Mummy. Brodie does still love us.”
That was not love in his eyes. For Rachel or for Tuck.
Hannah tugged on Brodie’s arm. “I’m on my way to Glenna’s while Mummy goes on a date with Tuck.”
“Hannah!” Rachel said. “I told you—”
Brodie put his hand up, blocking, as if Rachel’s image burned his eyes. “I was just stopping by, um, to see if Hannah was all right. We had a tiff.”
“She’s fine,” Rachel tried.
But Brodie was already moving off, and was speaking over his shoulder. “Good. Hannah, I’ll see ye later. I have to get home to Grandda.”
Oh, crap. Rachel wanted to run after him, but he wasn’t part of her new beginning. She watched as his large frame got smaller and smaller the
farther he got away. She finally turned back to Tuck and Hannah. “I—I . . .”
Tuck looked down at her strangely. “Are ye sure you want to do this tonight?”
She plastered a smile on her face. She had promised herself she would be happy for Hannah’s sake, no matter what. Practice makes perfect. But what she really felt was loss. Grief. That she would never truly be happy again.
* * *
For the rest of January and most of February, Brodie kept his head down and threw himself into work—fishing no matter the weather—morning, noon, and night. In the evenings, he trudged to the pub, making sure to never return home if he might have a chance meeting with Rachel. He prided himself that he saw Hannah every couple of days as the lass was the only ray of sunshine in his bleak existence. He’d missed out on being with Rachel; she and Tuck were an item now.
Tonight, as Brodie walked to The Fisherman, he wondered at Tuck. The longer the bloke dated Rachel, the quieter the man became on the boat, which was excellent on Brodie’s ears. In fact, he said nearly nothing to Brodie’s grunted orders while fishing. Harry complained how working with them was as much fun as gutting a fish. Brodie didn’t care what the lad thought . . . though Harry was becoming right useful on the boat, handling the bait.
On the way to the pub, he saw Moira, Amy, and Sadie—arms loaded—heading to the restaurant. He sighed heavily. The Gandiegow women were planning another dance.
The Valentine’s céilidh had been canceled because of a major winter storm. The single men of the village were hoping for more than a storm to stop the Leap Year Day dance tomorrow night; they were praying for a hurricane to nix it.
Every four years when the men tried to hide, Deydie would threaten them with her broom and remind them to be available when the women came-to-calling. It was also a warning to start building up reserve cash to pay for each rejected proposal that Leap Year Day brought. Many of the women looked to Leap Year Day as a profitable windfall, as five pounds a rejection could really add up. Especially since the women from the surrounding farms came to town looking for a husband, too.
Brodie might have seen the humor in it at one time, but he didn’t now as he climbed the stairs to the pub and opened the door. In fact, he hadn’t seen the humor in anything since Tuck had become a fixture in Rachel’s life. Brodie had seen them all over town together—Tuck, Rachel, Hannah, and Glenna. Tuck had even taken to sitting next to the American lasses at church. Rumors were flying of an early spring wedding, which settled into Brodie’s stomach like spoiled haggis. But what could he do? He’d tried, but missed the boat, out of his own damned pride.
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