Skye stepped forward. “Can I help?”
“Och, noo. Sit yirself down.”
Skye followed Callum. How genuine had Mary McGuire’s warm greeting really been? If she were Callum’s mother, she’d be worried. Mary wouldn’t want to nurse Callum’s broken heart again. Much as Skye didn’t want to hurt him for a second time, she couldn’t guarantee that wouldn’t happen. Having both Callum and her career seemed impossible. But, she had a few months to figure it out…if he was willing to take a chance.
Callum pulled out a chair for Skye and pushed it back in as she sat. What a gentleman. Not that he hadn’t always been thoughtful, even though a little rough around the edges in his youth. He’d smoothed out somewhat. If only Mother could see him now. But really, now she knew of her mother’s probable treachery, she wasn’t sure she’d share Callum’s return into her life.
“Can I get you a drink?” He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch light.
She looked up at him. “A glass of water for now. Thank you.”
“Are you all right?”
“My throat’s dry, that’s all.”
“You sound a little hoarse. How’s that cough?”
Not really healing as she’d hoped. The hoarseness, sore throat, and coughing spasms hadn’t eased. But with a lot of water, prayer, and a bit of luck, she’d keep that fact hidden tonight. “I’m fine.”
Callum’s expression questioned her answer.
“Really, Callum. There’s no need to be concerned.”
His face lightened. “Good, because I still want to have a snowball fight with you later.”
Skye laughed. She remembered well the wars they’d had in their younger days. Afterward, they would drag themselves into McGuire’s to dry off beside the fire as Mary McGuire made hot cocoa to warm them up. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” She’d have to watch her back.
Callum strolled across to the bar.
Skye touched the ribbons on the center wreath. Hunter and McGuire tartan. Her mouth lifted at the corners. How thoughtful.
Callum returned with a bottle of water and a soft drink.
“The wreath is beautiful. How did you manage—”
“I have a good relationship with the florist.” His dark gaze bored into hers.
“Still, I’m not sure florists willy-nilly keep ribbons of both our families’ tartans.”
Opening Skye’s bottled water, Callum filled her glass. “She’s a really good florist.”
The kitchen door swung open preventing Skye’s response.
His family entered, carrying white porcelain bowls in their hands.
Skye sniffed the aroma that wafted in her direction. “Is that—”
“Cock-a-leekie soup?” Callum grinned. “Yes.”
She rubbed her hands together. She hadn’t tasted this chicken and leek soup in years. Her mother made it for a time after they returned to Australia, but stopped after she remarried. Skye focused on Mary McGuire as she neared, carrying a bowl. “With prunes?”
Mary smiled and nodded.
The soup served, they took their seats. Callum sat beside Skye on her left, his parents on the other side of the table, and Tavish sat at the head, on Skye’s right.
“Callum will you offer grace before we eat?” Mr. McGuire asked.
Callum nodded and took Skye’s hand. “Father, we want to give You thanks for this bounty You’ve provided. There are so many who go to bed hungry. Please provide for them. Thank You for the warmth of the fire and of family and friends when so many are lonely and cold. Please, give them comfort. Thank You, too, for bringing our Skye back to us. But most of all, thank You for the gift of your Son. We celebrate His birth tonight. Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone echoed.
Skye rested her chin on Callum’s shoulder and whispered. “That was a beautiful prayer.”
She dipped her spoon into the soup, brought it to her mouth and savored the taste. “Mrs. McGuire, this is delicious.”
“Please, Skye, ‘tis Mary. Mrs. McGuire’s so formal.”
It had sounded formal and odd as it rolled off Skye’s lips, but calling her Mary felt weird, too. She’d always called them Uncle Robert and Aunt Mary…but that no longer seemed right either. She guessed Mary and Robert would grow on her.
The soup soothed Skye’s throat. Perhaps she should give Callum a song between courses while the irritation in her throat had subdued.
Callum opened one of the bottles of French Bordeaux and poured them each a glass.
Mary began to clear the plates. “Ma, leave those for a while. I’ll help carry them to the kitchen when we’re ready for mains. I’d like to first propose a toast.” He lifted his glass, his gaze holding Skye’s like a magnet. “To old friendships renewed.”
They raised their glasses and chinked them together, their chorus echoing, “Old friendships.”
Robert McGuire’s deep baritone filled the tavern. “Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind.”
They all joined him, their voices blending in melody. “We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”
Callum raised his glass once more. “To Skye.” He took a sip of wine then turned to Skye. “Would you like to give us a song? Perhaps one from your upcoming opera?”
Had he read her mind? She leaned over and whispered. “I’d planned to do that, just for you.”
Setting down her napkin, Skye took her place where she and Callum had sung the night before. She’d perform the theme song first. “The Phantom of the Opera.” With no male lead, she’d have to sing her part and the Phantom’s. Clasping her hands in front of her, she took a deep breath and began.
The McGuires sat wide-eyed, enthralled. This is what she’d been born for. She gazed at Callum. Did he know it was Callum McGuire himself inside her mind? She’d not been able to think of much else since last night.
As she cut the last note, Callum sprang to his feet, clapping his hands. “Bravo. Bravo.” He rushed over to her. “That was…amazing.”
“Thank you. Of course, it sounds far better with an orchestra. If you want to come to one of the performances, I can get you complimentary tickets.”
Callum leaned closer and spoke in a soft voice. “I already bought tickets the day they went on sale. But don’t tell my family, it’s a surprise.” His warm breath sent shivers through her.
“It’ll be our secret.” Her voice croaked, and her throat felt scratchy. She needed water. She moved past Callum.
“Is that all we get?” he asked from behind.
Skye turned and smiled. “For now. I have to leave some songs for later. Besides, I can’t think of anything else at the moment other than the smell of your mother’s turkey.” She slipped back into her chair and reached for her water.
When she’d set the empty glass down, Callum’s father leaned across the table and gripped her hands. “Lassie, that wis puir deid brilliant.”
“Thank you, Mr. McGui—I mean, Robert.”
Tavish looked even more captivated than he had when she’d walked in earlier. “Yi wull sing agin fur us taenight, Skye?”
Even Mary’s body language spoke of renewed admiration. “Please,” she said, touching Skye’s arm.
“Of course, I will. The night’s still young.”
“Aye, it is. Noo, let me git the rest oh oor dinner.” Mary’s chair scraped on the wooden floor as she rose. Again she insisted Callum and Skye stay put while the rest of the family cleared the soup plates and fetched the main course.
Callum opened a second bottle of wine and replenished their glasses. Standing behind Skye, he leaned around her to fill her glass. As he withdrew, he kissed her, his lips light and soft against her cheek.
She gazed up at him.
“Thank you for the song. You were magnificent.”
Robert, Mary, and Tavish emerged from the kitchen, interrupting the moment. They carried several white serving bowls and platters of food.
A plump roasted turkey rested on t
he large silver platter that Mary held with both hands. She set it down beside the candlelit wreath decorating the center of the table.
Robert brought two bowls—one with roasted potatoes and parsnips, the other’s three divisions filled to the brim with Brussels sprouts, carrots and peas.
In one hand, Tavish balanced a platter of bacon rolls and chipolata sausages, and in the other he carried a silver gravy boat filled to the brim. The cranberry sauce for the turkey was already on the table.
There was something about seeing the entire meal spread out at Christmas, watching Robert carve the turkey, that made this night so special.
“Help yirselves,” Mary instructed.
Skye licked her lips. “Hmm, is that chestnut stuffing?”
Mary smiled, wiping her hands on her apron as she removed it. “Aye. Ah membered how yi luved it.”
“You made it especially for me?”
“Aye.”
Her eyes stung. Skye reached for Mary’s hand and squeezed. “I’m so touched. Thank you.”
The older woman’s mouth spread upwards. “Och…”
Dinner was even tastier than Skye had expected, and the main course far more relaxed than the soup starters had been. As the night progressed, the party grew louder and merrier, Robert entertaining with his endless wit. They’d each donned one of the colorful plastic crowns tucked beneath the Christmas crackers they’d pulled, reading the corny jokes found inside and laughing even more.
“Here’s a good one.” Callum chuckled. “What do vampires sing on New Year's Eve?” When nobody could guess correctly, he offered the answer. “Auld Fang Syne.”
Everyone groaned, and then fell into fits of laughter again.
Later, Skye sang “All I Ask of You,” gazing without shame into Callum’s eyes. When she finished the song, the McGuires insisted on another. She complied with her favorite, “Think of Me.”
By the time they’d finished the delicious traditional Scottish Christmas Pudding, served with brandy butter and fresh cream, Skye feared the button of her slacks would pop right off.
As midnight neared, they gathered on cushions and blankets they spread on the floor beside the tree. Callum played his guitar and they sang a few carols until it was time for the countdown.
“Four…three…two…one… Merry Christmas!”
Kisses and hugs abounded in the small family circle. If only she was alone with Callum—she could kiss him like she’d been wanting to all night.
Playing Santa, Robert handed out the gifts nestled beneath the tree.
Callum stood and held out his hand to Skye. “I should get you home.”
Already? Did he want to leave to be alone with her? She glanced at her watch. Not that far past midnight. Perhaps he’s concerned that his mother doesn’t get to bed too late.
Skye grabbed his hand, and as he pulled her to her feet, she noticed they were standing beneath a sprig of mistletoe. She hadn’t seen it on the roof before now. Should she say something? A smile teased her mouth. Why not?
She leaned forward and whispered in Callum’s ear. He looked up, as did his family. The next moment the room hummed with chants of “Mistletoe. Mistletoe.”
“Yiv goat tae kiss hur noo,” Tavish egged.
Callum hesitated, and then with a broad grin wrapped her in his arms and complied. No doubt he’d been waiting all night to do that, too.
“Callum?” A weak voice drifted across the tavern from the direction of the door.
Callum stiffened in Skye’s arms.
He groaned as he released her.
“Wh—what’s going on?” The pitch in the woman’s voice raised this time.
Skye stared into Callum’s eyes, afraid to ask, but needing to know. “Who is that?”
“I can explain, Skye.”
This couldn’t be happening. She looked beyond Callum to where a dark-haired beauty stood rooted, a shiny red bow wrapped in her raven locks. She ripped the adornment from her hair and threw it to the floor. Turning, she ran for the door and disappeared into the night.
”Caught in the act.” The words settled in Skye’s gut, and yet all she could think was “Thank heaven, I ditched the bow.”
“Katie…” Callum dashed across the room, stopping at the door. “Skye, wait for me. Please.”
6
Callum spotted Katie’s car parked in front of the Beetle. She stood beside the driver’s door.
“Katie. Wait,” he called from the doorway. He needed to get her to understand. Sever this…one-sided friendship, once and for all. Fast. “We need to talk.”
“No.” Fingers shaking, she tried without success to unlock the car door.
Callum held out his hand. “Here, let me help.”
She turned her face away but allowed him to take the keys.
He opened the driver’s door.
Without a sideways glance, Katie slid into the seat. But she wasn’t going anywhere—he still had the keys.
Callum walked around the car, opened the passenger’s door and slipped inside.
For a moment they sat in silence.
She stared through the windshield. Tears trickled down her face.
Callum kept his eyes fixed on her profile. This was hard. He’d never wanted to hurt her, but perhaps tonight was exactly what she needed to accept that it was over between them. Had been for several months.
Her chest heaved as she sniffed.
Callum pulled a clean cotton handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
She hesitated, probably wanting to refuse.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she took the white fabric from him and dabbed her eyes. She stared at the hanky, twirling it between her fingers. “Wh-who is she?” A tremor warped her voice.
“Skye Hunter.”
Katie chewed her lip as fresh tears fell. “Is-is she the reason you broke up with me?”
No. And yes. How should he answer?
“I have been in love with Skye almost my entire life, so indirectly I guess the answer’s yes. I never fell out of love with her, and that’s the reason why I couldn’t love you as you deserve to be loved, Katie. But no, she’s not responsible for our breakup. I only knew two weeks ago that she was coming to Glasgow and did not expect her here until next year. Even so, I had no idea if we would reconnect.”
Katie’s eyes narrowed. “But you did.”
“She flew in from Sydney yesterday morning. We bumped into each other at the tavern.”
“You didn’t waste any time, did you?” Her voice was as cold as the window that had misted from her breath.
No. Because he’d already wasted sixteen years. But there was no point in telling her that. It would only hurt her more, and he needed to end this conversation and get back to Skye and explain.
She glared at Callum, drawing a long breath. “And what about you and me now?”
“Katie, there is no you and me. I’ve been telling you that for three months. We’ve not had one date since then, and we’ve only met by accident in that time. I’ve been as plain as I can be. You have to accept that it was never to be and it’s over.”
She began to sob.
Callum’s placed his arm around her and whispered. “I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. But you will find love again. You’re young, and beautiful, and intelligent. Someday, someone will come and sweep you off your feet, and you’ll wonder why the name Callum McGuire ever meant anything to you.”
She offered a weak smile. “You think?”
“I know.”
“H-how can you know?”
“Because you and I were never soulmates. Your soulmate…he’s still out there searching for you. Just give it time, you will find each other.”
“I feel like such a fool. I-I thought if I tried hard enough, I could win you back. Now I know I’ll never be able to.”
Yes. At last.
“Forgive me, Callum?”
“Of course.” Without another word, he stepped out of the ca
r and walked away, ready to find Skye, and that sprig of mistletoe.
By the time he entered McGuire’s, Ma and Da had almost finished cleaning up, leaving almost no trace that a celebration had taken place. His gifts, one from his parents, another from Tavish, and the third from Skye, were packed ready for him on a table near the door.
Skye and Tavish were nowhere to be seen.
~*~
“Thank you for driving me home, Tavish. I couldn’t wait for Callum. I’m too angry and upset to see him now.” Skye blinked away another tear that threatened to spill over her lower lashes. She looked back at Callum’s brother. “And thank you for driving in the opposite direction so he wouldn’t see us leave.” The image of Katie and Callum huddled in her vehicle filled her with a fresh wave of anger and hurt.
Tavish patted her leg. “Aye. It twis nae borra.”
“You’re sweet.” She managed a weak smile. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. But had she really thought after all these years, Callum would still be pining after her?
Tavish drove the luxury car slowly down the white roads. More snow had fallen while they’d enjoyed their Christmas fare.
Skye pushed thoughts of Callum and Katie aside and snuggled into the soft leather seat. Cozy. “Does this car have seat warmers?”
Tavish nodded and grinned as he waggled his eyebrows. “Tis great, intit?”
“It certainly is.”
“Yi shoud see ma other caur—she’s a classic.”
Who would’ve thought that Tavish would be the one to turn out successful? A luxury car, and a classic. I wonder what he does for a living.
“Hame, sweet hame, ma lady.”
Skye looked up as they pulled into the hotel parking. “Already?”
“Aye.”
The trip between McGuires and the Crowne Plaza had seemed far longer in the Beetle. Probably was.
“Wull yi lookit that?” Tavish leaned in closer to Skye.
“What?” She looked around, trying to see what he was talking about. She still struggled to understand him, but the patter was coming back.
Before Skye could stop Tavish, he’d unclipped the silk flower from her French knot. Her hair tumbled down over her shoulder.
“Tavish!”
He made no attempt to move his arm, which rested on the back of her seat. His grin crammed with mischief as he fiddled in his coat pocket. What was he up to?
Glasgow Grace Page 6