“Where?” Maggie’s voice sounded as light as a feather.
“’Tis a surprise.” He held his breath, hoping she wanted to see him again as badly as he wanted to see her.
“I’d love to.”
He’d have to call Ross and Ramsay to help out. And this would be John’s first time driving since the accident. But nothing would keep him from his family now. “I’ll pick you and the children up at three. Dress warm.”
* * *
Tuck knocked on Hugh’s office door. “Can I speak with you for a minute?”
Hugh glanced up from his paperwork and motioned him in. “Have a seat.”
Tuck paced instead. “I need to take some time off. Starting now.” He watched Hugh’s reaction and was relieved when the Laird didn’t grimace.
“It’s personal,” Tuck added.
“Are ye needed in Gandiegow?” the Laird asked.
“Nay. I’ll be here in Whussendale.”
“So if we need ye, can we call?”
“Of course,” Tuck said. “One more favor. May I use a computer?”
Hugh pointed toward his opened door. “Use the one in Tally’s office. I just turned it on for Lara. She’ll be stopping by to order supplies for the dye shack.”
“Thanks.” Tuck headed across to the other office. He quickly searched online for the Whussendale Kilts and Quilts Retreat website, found it, and filled out the registration form. After paying, he printed out the receipt.
“If ye can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” Tuck said aloud as he snatched up the receipt and headed out the door, smiling. Once outside, he jogged to the castle.
He barely stopped when he reached the side door to the kitchen. He waved to Mrs. McNabb as he passed through. Tuck found Ryn exactly where he expected her—leading the class.
He knew he was smiling goofily at her, but dammit, he couldn’t help himself. She looked up and saw him, and he tried not to be discouraged when her surprise turned into a frown.
Something poked him in the chest. He looked down to see Deydie glaring up.
“What are ye doing here?” She poked him again. “Ye’ve done enough, don’t ye think, by making the lass late for the retreat.”
Tuck opened his mouth to deny it.
“I know ye took advantage of Ryn. All of Whussendale has been buzzing about it. Leave now, before I find me a broom.”
“Here.” Tuck thrust the registration receipt at her.
“What’s this?” She peered at it with her rheumy eyes.
He’d bested Deydie and couldn’t help but smile. “I signed up for the quilt retreat. Where do ye want to put me?” He glanced around at the available spots.
Deydie’s angry gaze flew back to him. “What are ye up to?”
“Learning how to quilt,” he said, without missing a beat.
Sophie joined them with an index finger to her lips. “Shhh. Ye’re disturbing the class.”
Deydie shoved the registration slip under Sophie’s nose. “How was he able to do this?”
Sophie took it and blushed. “I guess we should’ve closed registration when the class started.”
“As ye can see, I paid for the retreat.” He wasn’t backing down. He was staying, with or without their permission. “Sophie, where would ye like for me to sit?”
By this time, Ryn’s mouth was gaping open, as enough of their conversation had drifted to the front. Coira must’ve heard, too, because she was hustling her way through the tables to be part of the action.
“There’s an extra spot at the first table,” Sophie said.
“He can’t stay,” Deydie huffed.
Coira took the sheet from Sophie. “Aye. He can stay. Pick up yere kit over there and I’ll get a sewing machine set up for ye.”
Deydie opened her mouth, but Coira calmed her by laying a hand on the older woman’s arm. “Ye wanted me to handle things here. And I will. Go on, Tuck.”
As he walked to the side table, where the fabric kits sat, he couldn’t help but thank his lucky stars that Coira had taken a liking to him from the beginning. If not for her, Deydie would’ve bounced him from the room.
Just as he was taking his seat upfront, Ryn called for a break.
“Be back in fifteen minutes.”
All eyes were on her as she made a beeline for him.
She pulled him through the French door to the balcony. “What are you doing here?” Ryn’s whispered hiss repeated Deydie’s sentiments, word for word.
“The quilting teacher couldn’t take time off to see me, so I decided to join the retreat.”
She pinned him with an incredulous stare.
He continued on. “Men get a bad rap for not following up after a date.”
“Last night was hardly a date,” she argued.
“Still, ye know what I mean. If this was the only way to show you that I wanted to see you again, then so be it.”
“Well, okay, so you showed me. I appreciate the gesture, but now go.”
He shook his head. “Nope. I’m here for the long haul.” His words took on new meanings, as they swirled around in his brain. The thought was frightening and he blurted out, “I don’t want a family.” That’s what John had told him to say, wasn’t it?
Immediately her eyes widened, and she looked vulnerable and hurt. “That’s fine. I don’t want one either.” Her words were clipped as if she’d sheared them, especially close, for his ears only.
He tried again. “I’m happy with the way things are. Between us,” he clarified. But her look said he’d only poured mud into the clear water. “What I mean is I’m not looking to have children and a family.”
“Fine.” She left the balcony, returning to the ballroom.
Tuck stared over the edge and considered jumping! How could he have screwed things up, making them worse? John’s advice was probably sound for anyone else but him. Tuck had the unsettling feeling Ryn had just taken a step toward leaving his life forever.
Coira peeked her head outside. “All clear?”
Tuck didn’t know who she was looking out for—Ryn, Sophie, or Deydie?
Coira hustled onto the balcony with him, bringing a small stack of fabric. “This is for you. I’ve already cut everything out so you can get to sewing right away. Do ye know how to use a sewing machine?”
Tuck hadn’t met a machine he couldn’t fix or run. “I’m a fast learner.”
“Come inside and I’ll get ye started.”
Tuck followed her in, but didn’t see Ryn anywhere.
“Over here,” Coira said. At a sewing machine, up front, she positioned a red circle of fabric on top of a white square. After adjusting the machine in front of him, she stood back. “We’re just going to rough edge this appliqué. Keep the edge of the presser foot right at the edge of the circle. Now, put yere foot on the pedal and press slowly.”
Tuck did as she said, but apparently he was heavy-footed, because the machine raced ahead and his stitch ran off the circle. He quickly lifted his foot and the needle stopped plunging into the fabric.
“That’s my fault,” Coira said. “Let me get ye some practice fabric. I’ll slow down the machine, too.” She leaned over, clipped threads, and adjusted the controls.
He took the fabric from her and positioned it as she’d done before.
“Easy this time,” Coira said.
Tuck had seen his mother sew…she’d made it look simple. But like with anything, he knew it would take practice. Gently he pressed the pedal with his foot and the needle eased into the fabric, slowly, consistently. He carefully shifted the fabric as he stitched around the circle.
Coira clapped her hands excitedly. “Ye weren’t lying. Ye are a fast learner.”
When he was done with the practice circle, she laid another on the throat of the machine. “Now, let’s do one for real.”
Tuck repeated the process and was able to handle the machine a little faster than a turtle’s pace this time. By the time the retreat goers meandered back into the room, he was on his th
ird circle block. The women crowded around and watched, as if he was a rare piece of china on display.
A heavy-set woman leaned close to him. “There’s nothing sexier than a man who knows his way around a sewing machine.” She had the gravelly voice of a two-pack a day sailor.
“Aye,” said a tall woman, who winked at him.
“Lordy, the way ye handle that fabric and machine, why is it that ye aren’t married?”
How did this woman from Dumfries know he wasn’t married? He shouldn’t be too surprised. The grapevine moved faster than the speed of light in Whussendale.
Just then, Ryn trudged into the room and her eyes found him. If he was reading her right, she didn’t like that there were women gathered around him, drooling… as if he was a Cadbury Bar and they were hankering for chocolate. Tuck hoped Ryn understood he wasn’t enjoying the attention either.
He stared back at Ryn, needing to get her alone so he could tell her again he didn’t need bairns to be happy.
“I’ll tell ye why I’m not married,” he said to the crowd. “It takes a while to find the right one.”
The women oohed and clucked as if he was Graham Buchanan, the movie star. Ryn looked away, and he was afraid his declaration hadn’t been understood.
A large, buxom woman squeezed in between the women standing directly behind him. As she walked by, she ran her hand along his shoulder. Her strong perfume and overt gesture were overpowering and Tuck felt caged in.
Coira saved him. “Break it up.” She waved her arms, as she barreled over and dispersed the crowd. “Ye’ve seen enough. Now back to yere seats so our American friend can show us the next step in making yere own Modern quilt.”
Tuck’s mobile dinged. When he looked down and saw the text from Hugh, he blessed the Laird for his timing. The weaving machine has seized up. Cut your vacation short.
It was just as well. Ryn wasn’t responding as she should. She should be thrilled he cared enough to be there. Tuck turned off his sewing machine and stood.
“Where are ye going?” said Two-Pack-a-Day. “Ye only just got here.”
He lifted his phone as evidence. “Duty calls.” He stared at Ryn to get her reaction, but she was fussing with the fabric on her table, seemingly working hard not to meet his eyes.
Coira tugged on his sleeve. “Come by this evening and I’ll help get ye caught up. I can’t believe I’m going to say this to a man, but Tuck, I believe ye might be a gifted quilter.”
“Thanks.” But learning to stitch wasn’t the reason he was here. “I’ll see ye this evening.”
Wouldn’t it be grand if he could fix Ryn’s feelings toward him as easily as he could fix the equipment at the wool mill?
He liked her. Really liked her! Now, he needed to convince Ryn that she should like him, too.
22
Maggie grabbed her children’s coats hanging on the hook by the cottage door, and snatched up Irene as she toddled by. “Let’s get bundled up.”
Dand bounced up and down. “Where is Da taking us? To Spalding Farm? To the cliffs?”
“I don’t know,” Maggie said, for the umpteenth time. “Yere father said it’s a surprise. He’s on his way. Now put on yere hat.”
The door opened and Irene squealed, trying to wiggle away from Maggie. John stood in the entryway, smiling and windblown. Maggie had missed her man looking this way.
“All ready?” With a mischievous grin, John set down the basket that smelled of fresh garlic bread from Gandiegow’s restaurant, Pastas & Pastries. “Does anyone here want to go on a picnic?”
“I do!” Dand yelled.
Irene stumbled over to her father and into his opened arms. Dand was right behind her.
That’s when Maggie noticed John’s prosthetic. It all became real…what John had gone through. And she understood. How hard it must have been for a strong Scot to believe he was less! To her, John would always be the same. Her rock. The love of her life.
“Aye. I’m ready to go, too.” Maggie felt such love for the man before her. “Are ye going to tell us yet where we’re headed?”
John smiled. “Be patient.”
He carried Irene and Dand gently grabbed a hold of the shiny tonged hook which replaced John’s hand. Maggie stopped and held her breath, wondering if John would blow up again at their boy.
He smiled down at Dand. “I’m still learning how to use it. But I believe it’ll be handy, don’t ye?”
“Ye could make Uncle Ross and Uncle Ramsay call ye Captain Hook now, Da.”
“Aye. I could,” John answered, his voice a little strangled. The nickname hurt. Maggie saw the sting flash in her husband’s eyes. Things weren’t exactly perfect, but at least he was trying and they seemed to be on the right track now.
Since John had the kids under control, she grabbed the picnic basket and held the door open for them. “It smells great.”
“Dominic fixed it up for us. Claire threw in a couple of chocolate chip scones for dessert.”
Outside, it only took a few moments of heading in the direction of the docked boats to know what John was all about. The other two Armstrong brothers waited on Ramsay’s tourist boat, holding children’s life vests.
Maggie looked over at John. “A picnic on Ramsay’s boat?”
John shrugged. “I thought it would be better suited for the family. The Indwaller is for business, not pleasure.”
Maggie nodded. “Okay then.” She put aside her trepidation, telling herself she was just happy her husband wanted to be with them, again.
Ross nodded to her. “It’s a calm day for a cruise.”
She looked out and it was indeed a calm day.
As John stepped aboard, he reached up and touched the cross which hung on the side of the wheelhouse. It warmed her that John still knew who was in charge of the boat, and she wondered if he had requested this calm day from the Almighty for their picnic.
Ross and Ramsay each took a child and dressed them in their life vests with Dand only mildly complaining. She was glad for the extra sets of eyes to watch the children. Dand wasn’t so much of a problem. Irene, though, didn’t know her limitations when it came to tumbling over the side of the boat.
Once they were underway, Maggie saw John’s joy—pure, unobliterated joy! He’d been wrong about the Indwaller—his statement about their fishing boat being business only. It didn’t matter whether a boat was for business or pleasure, her husband loved being on the water, plain and simple.
Suddenly, Maggie knew she’d been wrong, too. She should’ve stayed out of it. She never should’ve induced the doctor to tell John he couldn’t fish anymore.
“Come sit with me, wife.” John picked up Irene and settled her on his knee.
Maggie joined him and leaned into him. “Are ye ready to return to fishing full time?”
He pulled back, as if taken off-guard, but settled back against her. “Aye. Ye understand, don’t ye, that a man needs his work to feel whole?”
“I know.” But it’d taken her a while to get there. “Ye’ll be safe?”
“I’ll be careful.” John leaned over and kissed her, but Irene pushed her mother away.
“She’s a daddy’s girl,” Maggie said, laughing. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.”
John kissed his daughter’s head. “Don’t change a thing. I love her to pieces. Because she’s just like her mother.”
* * *
Ryn didn’t see Tuck for the rest of the day while she and the retreat goers were in the ballroom. When they all gathered for dinner, she hoped Tuck would join them, but he didn’t show. At the evening gathering, her anticipation grew, but once again, he didn’t make an appearance. What point was it for him to sign up, if he never attended? Alone, Ryn toddled off to her bed in the castle, feeling disappointed and frustrated.
Unfortunately, Deydie was settled in the bedroom next to hers. The old woman had made it clear she’d be listening. “No shenanigans!” Deydie had repeated at least three times to Ryn tonight.
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Ryn’s double bed felt lonely. Repeatedly, she gave herself a talking to: You can’t go to Tuck’s cottage. It would only undo all the work you’ve done. She had trouble falling asleep, as her mind kept mulling over ways to sneak out and find him. She had to know what he meant: It takes a while to find the right one.
After a restless night, she climbed out of bed in the morning and quickly readied for the day. As she slid back the pocket doors to the ballroom, she half-expected to find Tuck waiting there for her, but the room was empty. Too early. He’ll be here later, she assured herself. She glanced at his machine and beheld a curious sight. Overnight, his stack of quilt blocks had grown.
Have the other women contributed their blocks to his pile, trying to gain his favor? But Ryn didn’t see a single love note with a phone number on it slipped among the blocks.
Ryn picked up the top block and examined it. The stitches were nearly perfect—close to the edge like an experienced appliquér.
Coira walked in then and a caught Ryn fondling Tuck’s quilt pieces.
“I worked with him late last night,” Coira said. “He’s a whiz when it comes to sewing. He can make them faster than me now.”
Ryn couldn’t believe he’d been down here…with her upstairs! If only she’d come down for a glass of milk!
A group of quilters walked into the ballroom, chatting, and settled themselves behind their machines.
Because they were here now, Ryn couldn’t find out more about Tuck. Also, she couldn’t probe Coira too much, without giving her a clue as to how she felt.
Ryn walked to the front with purpose and positioned two of the full length vertical pieces on the design wall. Her emotions were a shambles. She wanted Tuck, but she couldn’t have him. While she messed with her quilt pieces, her eyes kept a lookout for the first sign of Tuck’s arrival.
As the minutes ticked away, Ryn’s hopes fell. Finally, Deydie waddled in with a steaming mug in her beefy hand. She cleared her throat and tapped the men’s watch she wore on her thick wrist. Ryn took the hint and got on with the class.
The morning dragged on and she had to keep reminding herself to be pleasant, though she desperately wanted Tuck to join the retreat again.
Blame It on Scotland Page 27