The Trouble with Scotland

by Patience Griffin

  But Sadie had faced enough challenges for one day and was going to put her foot down. “I don’t want to—”

  “Yere gran would want ye to get back on the horse. Let me hold the reins and help boost you up. It’ll just be a few of us here. Think of us as yere quilting family.” Deydie cocked her head and grinned. “Besides, ye’re going to do it whether ye want to or not. Ye might as well pretend that ye have a say in it and agree now while ye have a chance.”

  Sadie sighed heavily. “Fine.”

  Deydie handed her a plastic container. “Moira has been cutting background fabric for ye this last week.”

  Sadie felt a squeeze in her heart. “With all she has to do to get ready for the wedding?”

  “Aye. We want ye to get past yere grief.”

  She turned her head away, and saw Oliver watching her. The worry lines that had appeared between his brows ever since her diagnosis seemed to have faded. From this distance, he didn’t look like the overbearing brother that she knew; he seemed more concerned and sympathetic. Or perhaps it was her perspective that had changed.

  “I’ll get past my grief,” Sadie said, reassuring Deydie. Or possibly reassuring herself. She walked over to Moira, lifting the container up. “Thank you so much. Can I take you to lunch to repay you?”

  “Nay.” Moira smiled shyly. “But we can go to lunch to have a nice chat.”

  “Perfect.”

  Sadie left her background fabric in one of the cubbies and walked with Moira to the restaurant. After lunch, she read to Mr. Menzies, who was a delight because of his enthusiasm. Then she had to rush back across town to make her date with the two boys.

  Though she was busy every minute, whenever she walked from one end of town to the other, her gaze would wander out to the sea, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ross. But his leaving was a clear message . . . Sadie needed to let go of an impossible dream.

  At seven o’clock, she arrived back at Quilting Central. As Deydie promised, there was only a small crew of quilters there: Bethia, Moira, and Cait. The retreat goers were apparently whooping it up at the pub under Kit’s supervision. Yes, having fewer people at Quilting Central was less stressful, but to work on a memory quilt that would commemorate Gigi’s life? Sadie wanted to make a run for it back to the quilting dorm.

  True to her word, Deydie stood right beside her as they went through Gigi’s fabric and decided which pieces should go into the quilt, and then Sadie found herself sitting behind the sewing machine. She picked up the first pieces of the block—and a rush of emotion hit her. Gigi had always insisted a Jacob’s Ladder block should go into every Sampler, saying it anchored the quilt. Sadie wiped a tear from her cheek and sewed the first seam.

  Bethia glanced over at her worriedly. “Are ye okay? Can I get ye something?”

  “Nay. Leave her be,” Deydie said. “She’ll have to shed a few tears, but by the end, she’ll be fine. Quilting has healing powers.”

  Funny, but it seemed like something Gigi might say. Sadie knew there’d be more tears, but she was starting to feel as if she might be all right—not today, or even tomorrow, but somewhere in the future. She picked up two more pieces and stitched them together.

  After two hours, Deydie stood and declared it was time to shut down for the night.

  “I’ll need to wrestle those women out of the pub, I’m afraid.” She shook her head and the bun at the back of her neck came down. As she put the pins back in it, she spoke to Sadie. “Ye did good work today. I do believe the quilting has taken root in ye again. That’s good.”

  Sadie looked at the two blocks she’d completed for the Sampler. “You might be right.”

  “Of course I’m right. I always am about such things.” Deydie patted her and walked away.

  The others told Sadie good night and she walked back to the quilting dorm alone. Once again, Ross crossed her mind, leaving her to wonder if he was thinking of her, too. But she knew the answer. He didn’t have feelings for her like she did for him. Maybe when she got her shot on Wednesday from Doc, she should ask if he had anything for lovesickness. Or pills to make her forget what it was like to be in Ross’s arms and be well kissed.

  She let herself into the empty dorm; the famous quilters were staying in the quilt dorm next door, Duncan’s Den. Oliver had moved to the room over the pub. Sadie went to her room and dressed for bed.

  Today was Monday. She was heading home on Friday. Back to her life in North Carolina. She wanted to be over Ross by then; she had to be.

  For the next two days, she woke up and did it all again. She said good-bye to the retreat ladies on Wednesday evening and on Thursday morning sewed with the Gandiegow quilters. In the afternoon, with a heavy heart, she went in search of Oliver, to make sure all was set for them to go home the next day.

  * * *

  Oliver didn’t want to go anywhere. He looked down at Kirsty as she cuddled into him on the sofa. Her little studio apartment, set at the back of the school, was the perfect space. She said it had once been a storage room, but the town had turned it into a flat before she’d taken the job as their new teacher.

  There was a light tap at the door.

  Kirsty jumped and he stilled her.

  “It’s okay. We’re not doing anything.” Now, if Deydie or one of the other quilting ladies had stopped by two hours ago . . . that would’ve been a different story. “Do you want me to answer it?”

  Kirsty pulled away. “Nay. I’ve got it.” She took the few steps across the room and opened the door.

  Sadie stood on the other side. “Hi.”

  “Come on in.” Kirsty stood back and let her pass through.

  “Can I speak with you a moment, Oliver?” His sister looked miserable. Even more so than when they’d arrived. Coming to Scotland hadn’t helped her a bit. It had only made her worse.

  Kirsty grabbed her jacket from the hook by the door. “I was just going to run over to the restaurant and pick up some food. Sadie, will ye join us?” Oliver had installed a second hook for his jacket yesterday.

  “Thank you, but no.” Sadie looked as if she’d lost weight. “I need to get packed for our trip home.”

  Kirsty’s face fell and Oliver felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He was going home. He and Kirsty both kept forgetting that he was really leaving tomorrow. It felt like a bad dream. He’d only just found her, and he wanted to build a future with her. It was going to be hard to maintain a long distance relationship, but he had no choice. He had to get Sadie home and see her through her illness.

  As soon as Kirsty was out the door, he turned back to his sister. “What’s going on?”

  “I just want to make sure everything is set for tomorrow. You said you were going to get us checked in.” She frowned at him. “Or did Deydie volunteer me to teach another quilt class?”

  “No.” He wished she would. Then he could stay a while longer with Kirsty.

  Sadie cleared her throat, but it wasn’t to get his attention. Was she getting sick?

  “Are you feeling all right?” he asked. Maybe he should ask Doc MacGregor to take a look at her.

  “My throat’s a little scratchy. I might be getting a little summer cold.”

  Oliver pulled out his phone. “I’ll call the doc and tell him you’re on your way over.”

  Sadie rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Oliver.” She shivered.

  “Come here and sit down.” Oliver held out the quilt that Kirsty had given to him this morning. She called it Four Crowns.

  Sadie looked around, embarrassed.

  “Just get warmed up a bit. We’re not in North Carolina. Scotland is chillier than home.”

  She sat down and pulled the quilt over her shoulders. “I know.” For a moment, she sat silently.

  “It’s going to be hard, going home, with Gigi not there.”

  “I know. Nothing feels like it�
��s ever going to be the same again.” That was a huge confession so he backpedaled. “But we’re going to be okay. Do you hear me?”

  She wrapped the quilt around her more tightly. “I need to tell you something. And you’re not going to like it.”

  Hadn’t they all had enough bad news? He sighed heavily. It better not be about that Ross Armstrong. Oliver was glad he was gone, and good riddance. He was certain that Ross had taken advantage of Sadie, and Oliver hated him for it. His sister didn’t deserve to be used.

  “Go ahead and tell me,” he said.

  “It’s about Gigi.”

  “What about Gigi?”

  She sat there so quietly, it reminded him of when their parents had died. She hadn’t cried. She just sat there looking blank. And the only thing he could do for her then was to read to her. Like their parents had done for them every night. It took a long time, but finally she started to laugh again. Live again. He wanted that for her now . . . but he didn’t think that reading to her this time would work.

  They weren’t a huggy-type family, but he wanted to reach out to her now. “Go on. What is it?”

  “I wasn’t sure how to tell you before, but you have a right to know. I may be somewhat responsible for Gigi’s death.” She told him about her application to grad school.

  “We knew about that,” Oliver said.

  “What?”

  “Sadie, good grief, the way you leave things lying around . . . Gigi and I both knew you wanted to apply for the library science program. We were just waiting for you to tell us.”

  “So you two were discussing it behind my back?”

  Sadie had accused him and Gigi many times of having their own little club because of their early morning chats. “You know Gigi just needed someone to talk to, so she used me as a sounding board. She loved you very much. You know that.”

  Sadie hung her head. “I know she loved me. But what you don’t know is that we argued. The day she died. She wanted me to pick up the fabric from the quilt shop, but my application was due.” She wiped at the tears that began leaking from her eyes.

  “Oh.” He grabbed a tissue off the side table and handed it over. He’d promised Gigi to never tell Sadie, but that was a moot point now. “It’s not your fault.”

  “That’s what Emma said.”

  “Emma? You talked to her?” Why hadn’t she come and talked to him? He was her brother.

  “It just kind of came tumbling out. She has a way with people,” Sadie said.

  “I guess I can see that. She got me talking the other day, and I was telling her all sorts of things before I even knew it.”

  They sat there not speaking for a long moment. Sadie was probably still beating herself up, and he needed to find the right words to tell her the truth about Gigi.

  Finally he did reach out and touch her shoulder. “Sadie, when I say it’s not your fault, I mean, it’s really not your fault.”

  “What the heck does that mean?”

  “You’re probably right about Gigi telling me things when maybe she should’ve been talking to both of us.” He shook his head. It had been so difficult carrying this around. “Gigi made me promise never to tell you.”

  Sadie got that look in her eye . . . that she was on the verge of becoming irate. “Tell me what?”

  “It was right after your diagnosis and Gigi didn’t want to worry you.”

  Sadie stood, the quilt slipping from her shoulders to the floor. “I swear, Oliver, if you don’t spit it out . . .”

  “Sit down.” He picked up the quilt and held it.

  Sadie towered over him, glaring, waiting.

  He stood, too. “Gigi got some bad news, too, right after you did. Her heart was bad. It was only a matter of time.”

  “What?”

  “She didn’t think you could handle it, with everything going on. As I said, she didn’t want to worry you.”

  “She should have told me. You should have told me.”

  “She made me promise that I wouldn’t. I can see now that was a huge mistake.” Gigi also made him promise that he would take care of Sadie no matter what. He thought about Kirsty. He would honor his grandmother’s request, even if it meant he might lose his true love.

  Kirsty opened the door and the smell of Italian meatballs came in with her. She seemed to be taking the temperature of the room, then carefully made her way to the table and set down the sack. “I’m going to step into the schoolhouse for a moment to check on a few things.”

  “It’s okay,” Sadie said. “I’m leaving.” She didn’t say good-bye. Oliver couldn’t blame her. Once again, Sadie had been dealt a load of crap.

  Kirsty came and rested beside by him, rubbing his back. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “God, I hope so. I don’t know what to do. She’s so young and has had to deal with so much grief.”

  Kirsty wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed. “Don’t forget, Oliver, that you’re grieving, too.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “And Sadie isn’t a little girl. She’s a woman, and I can see a strength in her that perhaps you can’t. She’ll cope. And rise above.”

  He sighed and gazed into Kirsty’s face. “You have a way about you. Whenever I look into your eyes, I start to believe that everything is going to be okay.”

  “Trust in that.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him until the rest of the world fell away and it was just him and Kirsty, and tomorrow wouldn’t come.

  * * *

  All the men on board the Betsy Lane were celebrating as the sun went down, making her the loudest fishing vessel in the fleet. They’d fished through a bad storm, caught their quota, and were heading home sooner than expected. As the vessel rounded the bend, Gandiegow came into sight, and Ross checked the time—Friday, eleven p.m. Good thing they didn’t finish any earlier or he may have run into Sadie.

  When they pulled up to the pier, Ross grabbed his duffel and stepped off the boat. He’d much rather be fishing on the Indwaller with his brother, but the Betsy Lane had served her purpose.

  He made his way home knowing his grand plan had failed miserably. He’d done everything he could to keep Sadie off his mind, even taking extra shifts on the boat, but the lass still haunted him. No matter where he went on the boat, or what he did, the thought of Sadie was right there with him. He just felt fortunate now that he was back in Gandiegow that she was gone.

  As he passed the schoolhouse, Oliver came out the side door. Ross stopped and stared. Did Sadie go back to the States without him?

  Oliver stalled and glared. “I thought you were gone.”

  “I thought ye were gone, too.”

  “There was a storm. Our flight was canceled.”

  What? Ross looked about nervously.

  “Yes, my sister’s still in town. But you better stay away from her.”

  Ross planned to, but he sure as hell didn’t like getting ordered around. For an answer he only stared back.

  “I mean it,” Oliver said. “She’s been jerked around enough.”

  “What do you mean?” Had someone put the moves on Sadie while Ross was out of town?

  “I mean, she doesn’t need you sniffing around.” Oliver went on.

  Ross rarely had the urge to punch someone besides Ramsay, and that was usually in good fun, but he had the urge to punch Oliver now. Maybe instead, he’d give him a verbal jab, threaten to sic Deydie on him for being at Kirsty’s at this late hour. “If I were you, laddie, I’d be careful. Ye’re on our turf. Our rules.” He nodded toward the school building. “I’m sure the folks in town wouldn’t like ye sniffing around our schoolteacher, either.”

  “Just watch yourself.” Oliver glared at him another second, and then huffed off.

  Ross was tempted to go by the quilting dorms, to see for himself if Sadie was really there. Just to know for s
ure.

  But, showing great restraint, he headed home instead. When he got there, no one was awake. He went into the kitchen for a glass of water and gulped it down. But his thirst still wasn’t quenched. He set his duffel in his room, intent on going to the pub.

  Ross was kicking himself. He should’ve asked Oliver when their flight was rescheduled for. Would they be leaving in the morning? Afternoon? Later? And if it was later, what was Ross going to do then? He’d probably see Sadie. Then what?

  As he approached the path that led to the quilting dorms, he came to a decision. He needed to see the lass, and settle this once and for all. He’d had his fill of cozy moments with her. She needed to understand that it was over. There was no future for them. Friends, or otherwise. She was leaving, and he was going to embrace his freedom.

  His step quickened. When Thistle Glen Lodge came into view, he saw that all the lights were on. Why the heck wasn’t she in bed, getting her rest? He marched up to the door and knocked.

  In the next second, he changed his mind. He should just walk away. He turned to leave as the door opened. She stood there in a cotton robe, pulling the belt into a bow.

  She looks angelic. And desirable! The sight of her was like a boom swinging and hitting him in the chest. He wanted to both protect her and devour her at the same time.

  She stopped short. “What . . . ? Why . . . ?”

  “Can I come in?” His voice sounded hoarse as if his throat had been lined with sand.

  “No!” She perched her hands on her hips. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said—and moved to shut the door in his face.

  He put his hand up to stop it. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

  “The storm! The town was worried sick,” she said, glowering at him.

  “I doubt that. It was only a wee thing,” he said.

  “Well, it didn’t look wee or feel wee. But it’s good you’re alive. Now go away.” She pushed harder at the door.