Mattie leaned over and quietly read the eight words on the page, never looking up once.
“Wow,” Dand said. “Ye read really good, Mattie.”
Mattie gave him a crooked smile.
When the book was done, Maggie announced that it was time for lunch.
“Go wash up, lads.” Maggie turned to Sadie when the children left the room. “What ye’re doing is a fine thing . . . for both Dand and Mattie.”
Sadie smiled. “I’ve always loved to read.” She glanced down the hall to where the boys were. “I just never knew how good it felt to read to others. Until now.”
John pointed out where she should sit. “If that’s the case, I bet Mr. Menzies wouldn’t mind ye dropping by to read to him. His eyes are bad, and he’s been shut up in his house for the last couple of years. He always appreciates a visit.”
“Sure. If you let me know what kind of books he likes, I’d be happy to.”
John named several well-known thrillers. Probably books Ross would prefer to Sadie’s Jane Austen collection any day.
The boys came running back in, prayers were said, and the food passed around. Once again, Sadie wished her brother could be here for the family dinner. But by the way he was making eyes at Kirsty during church, she imagined the two of them were enjoying a more intimate setting for their meal.
After eating, Sadie was pulled away by a text from Kit. Change of plans. Emma is going to meet you at Quilting Central.
“Go on,” Maggie said. “John will clean up the kitchen while I nurse Irene.”
But Sadie wasn’t happy about Kit’s text. What happened to her testing the quilt block at the cottage?
Sadie didn’t think she could possibly sew at Quilting Central. She would just have to convince Emma to come back here. She walked to the door, but Maggie hurried toward her.
“Ye almost forgot this.” She hefted the portable sewing machine from the treadle and handed it over.
Sadie’s stomach churned the whole way to Quilting Central. It was one thing to set up the library; it was quite another to quilt, with all the memories it would dredge up.
But as it turned out, the place was empty. Either the quilters spent their Sunday afternoons at home or they hadn’t arrived yet. Sadie was thankful to have the place to herself, if even for the moment. But then her stupid eyes landed on the completed shelves and the deep hurt of abandonment settled into her bones.
She positioned her machine on a table close to the door, in case a quick getaway was necessary, and noticed a cardboard box with her name written at the top. She pulled it closer. A lump formed in her throat. For a second she worried she would sob.
The restroom door opened and Emma appeared. “Oh, hello. The postie asked me to drop that box off here.” She stopped suddenly, her cheerfulness turning to concern, and then she rushed to Sadie. “What is it? Tell me what’s wrong.”
Sadie scooted the box toward Emma. “Gigi’s favorite fabric.”
“Oh, sweeting.” She ushered her to the sofa in the new little library.
All the losses were jumbling together. First Ross this morning, and now another reminder that Gigi was gone.
“I miss my grandmother,” Sadie blurted.
Emma took her hand and squeezed. “Of course you do.” She was quiet, letting Sadie sort through her thoughts.
“I want to talk to her. There are things I need to tell her.” Sadie and Gigi didn’t always see eye to eye when it came to men. But Gigi was the only one who could help make sense of the mess she’d gotten herself into with Ross. Gigi had a way of tackling problems from a different angle—ways Sadie never saw on her own. “There’re also things I want to share with her. Good things.” She looked around the room filled with fabric, projects, and love. “Gigi would be beyond excited to be here.”
Emma nodded understandingly.
A sob erupted from Sadie, along with the words she never planned to utter. “But I killed her!”
Emma’s look of alarm lasted only a split second. She took both of Sadie’s hands and squeezed. “You are in a safe place. But first, let me lock the door.” She jumped up and set the dead bolt.
The second she returned to her place on the sofa, Emma’s eyes backed up her words. Sadie felt safe and confessed everything.
“I went against Gigi’s wishes. She didn’t want me to be a librarian. She said I’d never get a man if I buried myself in stacks of books. She was worried about me being alone in the world.” Sadie motioned to herself. “She never made a big deal about it, but I knew she was referring to how plain I am.”
Emma shook her head. “You’re not plain, Sadie Middleton. You’re you. The most perfect version of yourself.”
Sadie nodded to assure Emma. “I know therapists have to say stuff like that, but you don’t need to protect my ego. I’m okay with being plain. I’m a realist.”
“I’m a realist, too. And your friend. And as your friend, I’m going to give it to you straight. Do you understand?”
Sadie braced herself, but she figured Emma wouldn’t tell her anything new.
Emma gazed into her eyes with earnestness. “Anyone who meets you automatically loves you.” She squeezed her hands again for emphasis. “Ask anyone in Gandiegow.”
That statement delivered a hell of a wallop to Sadie’s chest. On its heels came another.
But Ross doesn’t love me. No man had ever loved her. And that was okay. Somehow, though, she knew she was responsible for running Ross out of town. She’d do anything to take back whatever she’d said or done that pushed him away. Had it been because she’d lied to him and said he wasn’t her type?
Emma touched her arm as if to reassure. “Deydie and some of the others seem a bit harsh at first, but it’s no reflection on you. It’s their way of protecting their corner of Scotland.”
Emma had misread Sadie’s consternation. And Sadie couldn’t bare her soul and talk about her crush on Ross. She could hardly admit it to herself.
“Now that we have that settled”—Emma glanced at the door as if it was a watch and their time was nearly up—“tell me why you believe you killed your grandmother.”
Because Emma had woven such a deep layer of trust and confidence around them, Sadie felt safe to tell her what had happened. “The second I started my first dental hygienist job, I knew I couldn’t do it. Not long term. Not even short term. I went behind Gigi’s back and looked into going to graduate school for library science. But I didn’t get around to applying right away because, well, I was spending a lot of time at the doctor’s office, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. And when the diagnosis came, everything was up in the air, and I wasn’t sure I could handle the graduate program. At the last second, I decided to go for it. The application was due at five p.m., and Gigi called at four and asked me to run by the quilt shop and pick up the fabric she’d been waiting for; her hair appointment was running late. I told her I couldn’t do it. I didn’t tell her why, and Gigi was upset with me. I figured I would wait and tell her after I was accepted into the program.”
“So what happened?” Emma asked quietly.
“Gigi made it to the quilt shop as they were closing. She was out of breath and holding her chest. The quilt shop owner said she collapsed just as she made it to the counter.”
“Oliver told us she’d had a heart attack,” Emma said gently.
“The paramedics said she was gone when they arrived.” A tear slipped down Sadie’s cheek. “If only I had gone to the shop when she asked me. I was sending in my application at the same moment Gigi died. My selfishness killed her.”
Emma slipped her arm around Sadie. “No. You didn’t kill your grandmother.” She squeezed her shoulder. “But maybe taking the blame has been easier than facing the fact that you have to go on without her.”
“What?” Sadie pulled away, feeling angry and confused.
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p; “I didn’t know your grandmother, but I’m certain if she was here right now, she would agree with me.” Unwavering, Emma stared steadily into Sadie’s eyes. “She would be proud that you were making decisions for your own life, moving in the direction that you felt was best for your future. Who doesn’t want that for her child?”
“But Gigi wasn’t my mother.”
“True. But I understand from Oliver that she raised you both. She was your grandmother, but in a lot of respects, she played the role of mother, too. She would only want what’s best for you. And as mothers, we tend to think that we know what’s best . . . like I do for Angus. But if all goes well, one day I’ll put myself out of a job, and he’ll be able to start making decisions for himself.” She paused for a second. “Just like you did.”
The realization started to sink in. Sadie knew Gigi. She might’ve been a little upset with her at first, but she had a way of accepting things, even faster than Sadie herself. Gigi was forever saying, Nothing is more constant in life than change.
Emma gave her an understanding smile. “I promise that when you’re ready to go through your grief that you will give up blaming yourself. But in the meantime, I feel like I have to say it again . . . Gigi’s death is not your fault.”
Loud banging sounded at the door. Then Deydie squished her face up against the glass.
“Should I let her in?” Emma asked.
“If you know what’s good for both of us.”
Emma got to her feet. Sadie stood, too, and hugged her new friend.
Deydie pounded harder. Her muffled, “Unlock this door,” filtered inside.
Sadie laughed, feeling lighter than she had in days. “I’m going to wash my face.”
She took her time in the restroom. When she walked out, she felt self-conscious, but neither Deydie nor the other women who had shown up descended on her. Sadie was grateful. She was also grateful that one of them had moved Gigi’s fabric box to another table, farther away. Sadie would have to face that box eventually, but now wasn’t the time.
Sadie and Emma got down to work, setting up the machine as Emma explained how Kit had gotten detained by a call from a client. Sadie wondered if maybe it was fate.
She and Emma worked through the quilt lesson step-by-step. Kit’s suggestion to test the pattern was a good one; they found several places to make the instructions clearer and were able to fix a measuring error.
Finally, Emma stood and stretched. “I should make my way home and care for my men.” She hugged Sadie.
“Thank you for everything.” Sadie was referring to more than the quilt block test.
Emma gave her a genuine smile. “You will do a brilliant job of teaching the quilters this week.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie noticed Deydie hanging posters along one wall. “What’s that all about?”
Emma pretended not to notice. “I do have to go. Good luck.”
That sinking feeling came over Sadie. She could’ve just left, but something told her she’d better speak with Deydie first.
She walked across the room and saw that on each poster was a famous quilting instructor from the US. Sadie had seen many of them on TV or had bought a book they had written about a certain aspect of the craft.
“What’s all this?” Sadie motioned to the six posters lined up.
“Och, I guess I forgot to tell ye.” Deydie nodded respectfully to the wall, as if the women themselves were in the room. “These are the students that ye’ll be teaching next week.”
* * *
Ross went below deck to his cabin to get his rain gear. On his bunk lay the blank piece of paper on which he’d tried to make a list of future careers that would fit him. His mind, though, couldn’t focus on anything but Sadie. Then or now.
He snatched up his gear to go back outside. It would serve him right to catch his death of cold. He was such a louse. A coward. Of course he’d left for Sadie’s sake; she deserved more than to be his rebound fling. But she also deserved a man who wouldn’t run out on her and not say good-bye. It was just that he didn’t think he could do it. He would’ve taken one look at her sweet, beautiful face and been unable to leave.
That was one thing that bugged him about Sadie—she was always calling herself plain. When he’d first met her, he’d thought her pleasant-looking, but not necessarily a beauty. But he must’ve not been looking closely. If Sadie was plain, then so was the first flower in spring. Or the sunset over the ocean. Or a rainbow after a storm. And when he’d first seen her at the pub, he’d thought she was too young for him. But now she seemed perfect.
He hadn’t left Gandiegow because he didn’t want Sadie to be his rebound; he’d left because she was so much more than that. But he needed to pull his head out of the clouds. He wasn’t ready to settle down, yet he couldn’t treat Sadie like a fling, either. Being so attached to the lass would mean trouble for the both of them.
He tossed his pillow against the wall. “Why couldn’t she have shown up five years from now?”
Ross pulled his rain jacket from his duffel and slipped it on. The job on the Betsy Lane’s crew had come along at just the right time. It put distance between him and Sadie, and that’s what he needed to get his head screwed on straight. And they were scheduled for an offload right before the wedding, which was perfect. He would make it in time for Moira and Andrew’s big day . . . and Sadie would be gone.
Chapter Thirteen
Sadie glanced at the six famous quilters talking among themselves near the back of Quilting Central. She leaned against one of the longarm quilting machines for support. She hadn’t slept a wink last night. She was such a nervous wreck that she didn’t have the wherewithal to worry over Ross . . . not too much anyway. She took a steadying breath. “Tell me again why these quilters are here.”
Deydie cackled. “Ye’re whiter than the muslin on that Four Crowns quilt I just took off the quilting machine for Kirsty. I think she means to give it to yere brother.”
“The famous quilters?” Sadie reminded her. “Why?”
“They wanted their own retreat here in Scotland, and Caitie set them up.” The old woman patted her back, more gently than she’d ever done before. “I told them ye were new to teaching, so don’t be nervous. Besides, ye only have to teach two hours in the mornings. Three days of that ain’t going to kill anyone.”
It might. Sadie looked down at her hands. They were shaking.
“What makes you think I can teach them anything?”
And why didn’t I go home when I had the chance? Maybe if Sadie closed her eyes, she’d disappear like Ross had. It would serve Deydie right for putting Sadie on the tracks and sending the quilting train to barrel over her.
Life in Gandiegow, as far as she was concerned, was a complete disaster.
Except she enjoyed reading to Dand and Mattie. Getting to know Moira, Emma, and Kit. And setting up the library. But she certainly didn’t enjoy how miserable she felt about Ross being gone.
Oliver and Kirsty came through the door.
Sadie rolled her eyes. “Great. An audience.”
“He’s here to fix Caitie’s computer.”
“And judge me,” Sadie added.
“Nay. He’s here for moral support.” Bethia handed over a steaming mug of tea. “Take a sip and then we’ll get started.”
None of this made sense. Sadie looked to heaven and shook her head, not sure what the Big Guy was thinking on this one. She headed up on the stage.
Bethia guided the six women to the front table. Sadie expected them to look judgmental and critique her every move, but instead they only welcomed her with warm smiles. She should’ve known. Quilters were the best people in the world as far as she was concerned—more giving than any other group.
But when Sadie opened her mouth to introduce herself, nothing intelligible came out. “Well, um . . . ah—”
“Get on with it, lass,” Deydie hollered. “These ladies don’t understand gibberish.”
Sadie reddened. “Sorry. I’m Sadie Middleton.”
“She and her gran won the quilt block challenge,” Deydie said.
They nodded at her kindly, and Sadie suddenly felt brave. She stepped off the stage and stood in front of the tables, holding her head high as if she was the equal of these mega quilting stars. She held up her winning quilt block. “My grandmother, Gigi, and I designed this quilt block because we’ve always loved thistles.” She described how they’d worked on the block together and sent it in, hoping and praying to win the challenge. Then she had to tell the rest: how they’d won, but that Gigi had sadly passed away before finding out.
“Come sit with us.” Dorothy Webb Parker patted the seat beside her. “Deydie told us about your grandmother. We’re so sorry for your loss.”
Each one of them gave Sadie her condolences. And this time, she wasn’t angry with Deydie for sharing the news about Gigi. Because sharing the loss felt as though she was being lifted up by the community, instead of the grief weighing her down.
Dorothy examined the winning quilt block. “How did you approach the appliqué?”
Sadie answered her, and then the next question. Two hours flew by, and she found that she liked teaching, because while she was teaching, she also learned a lot. She learned she could get up and speak in front of others and be heard. And she learned that she liked helping people. Although these women knew so much more about quilting than she ever would, they hadn’t known Gigi’s secret to appliquéing.
When her time was up, Sadie gathered her bag with three thrillers to take to Mr. Menzies’s house. After reading to him, she had an appointment with Mattie and Dand.
Deydie stopped her at the door. “I’ll expect ye back here this evening.”
“Why?” Surely the old quilter didn’t have another class lined up for her.
“Since ye missed yere retreat last week—with all the gallivanting ye did with Ross—ye’re going to have to do some sewing. And it’s time for ye to deal with yere box.” Deydie pointed to the parcel that now sat on a small table next to Deydie’s desk. “I’ll be right there with ye when ye go through it.”
The Trouble with Scotland Page 20