She held her head high, ready to take on Deydie, and stepped from her temporary sanctuary. But she stopped short at the hushed dining room, and then there was the strum of a guitar.
Her eyes landed on who produced the beginning of the familiar song. Lochie sat ten feet away on a stool, instrument propped on his lap, and his fingers making magic with the melody. His eyes, though, were gazing at her.
He began to sing. “You . . . are so beautiful . . . to me.”
Something unfamiliar came over her and she felt shy. She chewed her lip, but couldn’t look away as Lochie sang to her.
“You’re everything I hoped for . . .”
As he sang on, she realized the village had gathered around them, a cocoon. She’d come to Gandiegow as a teenager, an outsider. Slowly over the years, because of the kindness of her protector, Mrs. Coburn, Bonnie had been included more and more. But it was today, when Deydie put her in charge of the decorations, that Bonnie knew she’d finally become a full-fledged member of the community. Maybe it was Lochie singing to her, or maybe it was the village around them, but something changed, making Bonnie melt. She’d never felt softer and safer in her whole life.
The song ended and Lochie handed his guitar to Coll. He walked straight to Bonnie, clearly determined, and more attractive than she’d ever seen him before.
“What do ye say?” Lochie took her hand, intertwining their fingers, and waited.
The room was hushed with quiet anticipation. Bonnie glanced at each one of the quilting ladies standing around her. Some of them nodded; others showed their approval with their smiles and their eyes. It was not that Bonnie needed their permission, but it felt good to know she had it.
She gazed at Lochie and the rest of the room fell away. She saw her future. One of laughter and companionship. Perhaps sitting with Lochie while he strummed his guitar. She wouldn’t be alone anymore. It was a future she would like very much. A smile spread across her face . . . and into her whole body.
Bonnie squeezed his hand. “Will ye marry me?”
He laughed. “Aye.” The room broke into applause as he picked her up and spun her, as if she were a wee thing and not a tall lass. “I’ve been waiting forever for ye to ask.”
* * *
Brodie dropped back into his seat at the restaurant with the locket still in his hand. He’d screwed this up, but he just didn’t see how he could’ve done anything differently. He pulled the locket from the bag and set it on the table in front of him as if it were a million years ago and he was in secondary school biology class . . . readying himself for a dissection.
Before he could analyze anything, the door to the restaurant opened. Automatically, he turned to see if it was Rachel, but as he cranked his head around, he caught sight of his mother.
Robena was as sharp as a hawk, seeing two steps in front of everyone else. As a lad, Brodie never got away with anything. Her eyes flicked down to the table. He saw the locket register on her face and then she laid a hand on Freda’s arm. “Go on without me.” The crew went to the stairwell and up.
His mother gave him a sad look. Aye, two steps ahead of even me. The realization was still sinking in of what he’d lost. No, what he’d given up, if he was being honest.
Mum came to the table, pointing at the other chair. “May I?” The air between them was always too polite for Brodie to feel comfortable, but he didn’t know how to change it either.
He reached over and pulled the chair out for her.
His mother stared at the necklace that had once been hers, as if she was watching an egg hatch. “Have I ever told ye the story of the locket?” She shook her head, answering her own question. “No. I never did, did I?” She gazed up at him, giving him the same intense study she’d given the piece of jewelry. “I couldn’t tell ye, Brodie, not back then.” She reached her hand out to take his, but pulled back as if remembering she could get burned.
Silence settled over the table. His mother seemed to be struggling, and Brodie, the horrible son that he was, he let her.
Robena smiled as if suddenly remembering the happiest of thoughts. “The locket is magical.”
He wasn’t expecting that. “I don’t necessarily agree.” It had only caused him grief.
“The locket was the way I knew yere da truly loved me.” Her eyes misted. “He was my best friend when we were kids. We played together. We shared our secrets . . . and our grievances. He always had my back. He knew what it was like for me to grow up with yere grandda.” She looked away, her cheeks reddening as if she’d said too much.
“I know, Mum.”
Her eyes came back to him. “I guess ye do.”
Brodie felt the need to defend his grandfather. “But Grandda has changed. Really he has.”
“I know.” Absently, she reached for the locket and toyed with the chain.
Brodie nodded to her hands. “How did the locket convince you?”
Her eyes were filled with warmth for him. “As I said, yere da and I were friends. When we were barely adults, yere da told me how he planned to marry me. I laughed at the thought. I knew everything about him, all the childish things he’d ever done. He knew all of mine. He was still a lad in my mind. I hadn’t realized he’d grown into a man. I hadn’t seen the changes.” She smiled, holding back happy tears.
Brodie remembered how much his mum and da adored each other. Sometimes, they’d ignore him because they were so consumed with one another. He never minded it, though. With them being so much in love, he felt safe and secure.
Brodie leaned forward, feeling like a kid who had been left with a cliffhanger. “How did Da convince ye?” He needed this piece of the puzzle like he needed air and water and food.
“He told me of the money he’d saved from fishing, of the cottage he was going to rent for us, how he could support and take care of me. All the things a good man should be doing if he was to ask a lass to marry him.” Robena opened the locket and gazed at the pictures. “But I was a young woman who had the romantic dreams of love. I didn’t care about whether he could support me or not. It never occurred to me that love could come from friendship. I’d never heard of such a thing. But then yere da presented me with the locket. He’d put our pictures inside. He told me he loved me, couldn’t imagine a life without me. These were all the things a young woman needed—the romance of a locket, words of love. I’d always loved yere da, but that moment changed who we were together.” She shook her head. “No. It only made us into more.” She shut the locket and scooted it back to the center.
Brodie was subdued by the story. He pushed the locket back to his mother. “Ye should have it. As a keepsake.”
She laid her hand over his, stopping him. “The locket was magical before. It can be again.” She squeezed his hand. “I don’t need it. Yere da is in my heart. He’ll always be there.”
“But I thought you forgot all about da,” Brodie blurted. Because the polite air between them had been broken and replaced with a raw truthfulness, he barreled on and said the rest. “Da was barely gone when ye married Keith. Mum, how could you?” It was an accusation, not a question. All the anger rushed back into him, fresh as a live fish pulled from the water . . . and gasping for air.
Brodie tried to pull his hand away, but she clamped down harder.
“Oh, Brodie, it’s my fault.”
He agreed.
“This is way overdue. I should’ve explained. I should’ve told ye everything back then. But I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?” He felt hot and needed air. Why wouldn’t she let him go?
She squeezed his hand and then surprised him by freeing her grasp. “I had no way of supporting you and me. I had to marry quickly.” Her voice dropped and she glanced toward Claire, who was wiping down the counter. “Ye remember, don’t you, the women and children who left Gandiegow after the Rose went down? I’m so glad Claire f
ound her way back. But ye see, don’t ye, so many didn’t return to Gandiegow. Gone from their homes. Their community. From the people who knew them and loved them.”
Brodie had been surprised to find Claire back in the village when he returned home from his six-year absence.
“So many widows left for the city to find work. But I couldn’t bear for ye to lose yere town, yere grandda, and Joe, right after losing yere da. I saw a way to stay. I asked Keith if he would marry me so you wouldn’t have to leave.”
“You asked Keith to marry ye?” Brodie always assumed the man had swooped in and taken advantage of his mother when she was hurting and vulnerable. But he should’ve known. His mother was always two steps ahead.
“I asked Keith and made him agree to live in town so nothing would change. He did that for ye and more.”
“Like what?” Guilt washed over Brodie, ratcheting away at how he’d felt justified in not forgiving his mother.
“Keith is a good man. When ye wouldn’t come live with us, it was Keith who sorted through things and considered yere feelings.” She paused for a second as if the memory was from yesterday and not two decades old. “Keith was concerned for my da. Abraham lost a son . . . my brother. Keith could see how Abraham needed ye and Joe there to be with him to see him through.”
Brodie never considered that his mom had grieved for her brother Richard. She’d lost two loved ones in the storm, and a pang of hurt tore through him. “I’m sorry.” His words didn’t feel like enough.
“Aye,” she acknowledged, but then moved on. “Keith knew how much fishermen made. Do ye think ye would’ve had all you had, or that Joe would’ve been able to go to university on my da’s income alone? Nay. Keith gave yere grandda room and board . . . for both ye and Joe.”
Brodie’s mouth hung open. He shut it.
She stared at him, waiting patiently until it sank in.
“I never knew,” Brodie finally said, feeling so ashamed. He’d been unkind to Keith in his mind. He’d accused his mother of wretched things in his thoughts. He’d been wrong. So wrong.
“I love Keith,” his mother said boldly. “It didn’t happen all at once. It wasn’t the romantic love of a young woman receiving a locket, a love built on friendship. My love for Keith was built on necessity . . . and the love for my son. It developed over time. But I love Keith with all my heart. Just like I still love yere da.”
In that instant, Brodie was deluged with understanding. His idea of love expanded. His perception of the truth shifted. Forgiveness overwhelmed him as tears filled his eyes.
He jumped up, embarrassed by the flood of emotion, but mostly because the weight of unforgiveness had been lifted. He pulled his mother to her feet and hugged her, dying inside for how much he loved this woman. She’d done everything for him. He started to beat himself up—he’d been an ass, a complete ass—but God whispered in his ear, Forgive yourself, too.
“I love you, Mum.”
“I love ye, too.”
“I’m so happy ye have Keith.” Brodie pulled away to look into his mother’s tearing eyes. “I should’ve come to live with ye. There’s so much I should’ve done.” There wasn’t enough time to list all the things he’d gotten wrong over the years. “I’m so ashamed of all the time I’ve wasted. I regret all the things we could’ve shared. I ask ye to forgive me.”
“It’s done. Forgotten.” She kissed his cheek.
He gazed at her, stunned with her generosity. “But how can ye forgive me so quickly?”
She gave him that knowing smile, the one she’d used on him from the time he was a wee lad. “I’m a mother. It’s what we do.”
He hugged her again, and as he did, another revelation hit him. Forgiving feels so incredibly good that I want to do it again. Rachel appeared in his mind, and the partridge sang. He’d slowly been forgiving her, but the rest of it fell away now. She’d only been trying to do the right thing, as Grandda had pointed out. Brodie couldn’t fault her for that. He couldn’t blame her for moving on and giving up on him either. He loved her and only wanted the best for her now. If Tuck could make her happy, then he would learn to be happy with her decision.
His mother snapped him out of his vision. She reached for the locket and placed it in his hand. “Ye’ll make good use of this? Ye’ll not waste the magic?”
He couldn’t make any promises. Brodie latched on to the locket as if it were a life-preserver which had come too late. “Thank you.”
“Will ye be all right?” Robena glanced toward the stairs as if only just remembering a broom might be waiting for her backside if she didn’t go help the others.
“Aye. I’m better. Much better.”
His mother left him, and once again, he sat down with the locket, having a totally different perspective. The locket really was magic; it brought him and his mother back together. He opened it to reveal his parents. So very young. Maybe Brodie should replace the pictures with his mother and Keith and give it back to his mum. This would be a tangible way to show them that he supported their union, though the gesture was many years late.
Brodie gently removed the pictures of his da and mum. “What the hell.” Two other pictures had been placed behind them.
On the left side was the picture from Rachel’s first day back in town, when they’d taken the family picture, but it was only of the two of them. Rachel was facing forward, but Brodie wasn’t. He was staring at her and his longing was clear.
He examined the other photo. Christmas Day. He remembered how he didn’t want to sit for another family picture, but Hannah and Grandda had insisted. This photo had been cropped, also. In this picture, she was staring at him; he’d been oblivious to what was plain for him to see now. She longed for him, too.
His eyes went from one side to the other, another picture becoming clearer . . . the big picture. They looked so right together—he and Rachel. He could see them as a family. He loved Hannah so verra much, as if she was his own. But more important, he loved Rachel. It had always been her. Always.
“I’ve only been kidding myself that I could get over ye,” he said to her picture.
Suddenly, he didn’t care that she was with Tuck. He jumped to his feet. He carefully slipped his parents’ picture into the pocket over his heart, over the tattoo of the partridge that guarded everything he knew to be true. Brodie had to take a chance. He had to find Rachel. She’d loved him once. Maybe she could love him again.
Chapter Twenty-one
Rachel sought refuge in Thistle Glen Lodge, sitting in front of the empty fireplace. She’d given the locket back, but hadn’t anticipated feeling the loss of Brodie all over again. Suddenly, Ailsa and Aileen came bustling through the door.
“Rachel?” Ailsa said.
“Are ye here?” Aileen echoed.
Rachel closed her eyes. “Yes.” She stood as if she’d just finished with an inventory of the clean towels.
“Deydie wants ye back at the grand dining room,” Ailsa said.
“Claire said that ye’d left,” Aileen added.
Rachel picked up her notebook, the one Brodie had given her. “I have some things I have to do. For the bed and breakfast,” she clarified, hoping to sound convincing.
Ailsa turned to her sister. “What should we tell Deydie?”
Aileen looked worried.
Rachel felt sorry for them and reached out, touching both of their arms. “Tell Deydie I won’t be long.” She held up the notebook to remind them. Then to get them moving toward the door, she walked that way as well and went outside as if she had a meeting set with Mr. Sinclair.
The three of them stood on the stoop, looking at one another.
“I’ll be there in a while.” Rachel needed some time to pull herself together. She walked toward the businesses as if she was on a mission as Ailsa and Aileen hustled in the direction of the restaurant.
Once on the
walkway, Rachel glanced around for another place to hide. She couldn’t handle decorating for the dance tonight or listen to any more hopeful chatter about proposing. Returning the locket to Brodie had felt so final. She needed a quiet moment alone to let her fate sink in, without the company of people who were certain true love existed and won out in the end.
She heard voices from behind her. Not wanting any more of Deydie’s crew to track her down, or to hear any of the proposals that were happening all over town, Rachel opened the door to the church and stepped inside, grateful this building was kept unlocked, too. The building hummed with calmed stillness, which drew her in. She treaded softly into the sanctuary, nearly to the front, and chose a pew on the far left.
As she sat, peace and understanding bathed her as surely as the sunlight streamed through the stained glass window and shone on the altar. God was sending her a clear sign that she and Hannah were going to be all right. She’d had glimpses of it all along, but now the straight path was revealed.
The community, like the sun, would be a beacon for them, showing them the way. She took a moment to bask in the revelation. She smiled; this was what it was like to be part of a tight-knit community. Maybe I should get back. But as she was about to stand, the church door creaked open.
“In here?” a deep voice said, the door slamming shut.
Rachel should’ve made herself known to them, but instinctively she crouched down so as not to be seen.
“Aye. In here,” said a female who sounded like Grace Armstrong. “There’s a question I’ve been waiting to ask ye.”
“Oh?”
Rachel leaned out, peered up the aisle, and saw Grace and Casper standing at the entrance to the sanctuary. Since New Year’s Eve, the two of them had been inseparable and the talk of the town. Gandiegow had gotten behind the twosome, and Rachel agreed—they made a nice pair. Also, there was something reassuring about a mature couple finding love. It gave her hope that her mother would find someone special one day. Rachel looked again, but before she could stand up and say, You’re not alone, Casper was planting a kiss on Grace. Rachel squatted down farther, kicking herself for being here. Maybe they won’t stay long.
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