“Yes,” Margery said.
“I see,” Deydie answered, spitting-nails mad.
“And I need it ASAP,” Margery said hesitantly. “Will you tell her I called?”
“You can bet your last sheep on it,” Deydie said sarcastically.
“Thank you,” Margery added and hung up.
Deydie threw Caitie’s phone on the bed. “Me granddaughter doesn’t have a lick of sense. She’s as bad as her damned father.”
Chapter Nineteen
For the rest of the afternoon, the quilters worked on the Pinwheel quilt that Deydie had started while Cait set up the blocks for the bluff. She used chunks of the gray fabric to construct a small castle block that would represent Graham’s mansion and inserted it among the brown blocks representing the bluff above Gandiegow.
After being almost nice to her earlier, Deydie now shot lethal glares in her direction. Cait wanted to ask her what her problem was, what had happened between now and then, but decided not to rock the boat. Deydie had stood up for her earlier, had acted as if she halfway liked Cait, and she wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize her gran’s newfound affection.
Ailsa and Aileen headed off to the kitchen while Bethia and Amy went to check on Duncan and Mattie in the media room.
Cait held up the castle block. “What do you think, Deydie? Did I do a good job on Graham’s house?”
“A hack job, that’s what ye’re doing,” Deydie muttered and put her head back down, sewing the border to the Pinwheel quilt.
What stick had gotten up Deydie’s backside? Would it kill her gran to be nice for two minutes in a row?
Moira looked embarrassed. “I think it’s wonderful, Caitie. It’ll really add to the Our Town Gandiegow quilt.”
Graham’s landline rang. Cait picked it up and took the cordless in the other room. “Hello?”
“Why didn’t you answer your mobile?” It was the big house’s owner.
Cait looked down at his castle block in her hand. Then patted her cargo pockets. “Must’ve left my cell in my coat pocket. What’s up?”
“Shooting is delayed and I just needed someone to talk to.” Graham sounded dejected.
Part of her wanted to tell him to go jump off a cliff for hanging up so abruptly yesterday. The other part of her wanted him to come home and cuddle up next to her for the rest of his life. Every time she heard his voice, she fell for him a little more. And each time, when he backed away, it broke her heart a little more, too.
“Are you there?” he asked.
“Yes, of course, I’m here.” I’m always here for you, you bozo.
“Duncan’s results came back positive,” he said.
“Does that mean you’ll finally accept your son is truly sick? I think he needs your support, not your denial,” she said.
“You’re right. I just had to find out for myself.” He sighed. “I hate being away from him and Mattie.”
Graham hesitated a moment longer and she wondered if he meant to add one more person to the list—herself. But he didn’t.
He went on. “You know the script you read?”
“Aye,” she said.
“I turned it down,” he said, sounding even more depressed.
“Why? It was a great part. I told you—you’d be perfect for it.”
“I know. I was excited about it until I found out the shooting schedule.” He paused again. “I decided it wasn’t the right time. Filming begins in March.”
Yes, she understood. “And you couldn’t be away from your son. I know.” She tried to console him. “You want to know something? I think you’re an amazing father. Duncan is lucky to have you.”
“He doesn’t think so,” Graham said.
“Well, I know you’re an amazing father, and that’s all that matters,” she said.
He laughed, and it sounded good to hear a bit of cheer in his voice.
“I like a woman with a healthy ego, Ms. Macleod,” he said. “You do have a way of brightening my day.”
“I’m a little piece of sunshine,” she boasted.
He chuckled again. “A piece of work, that’s what ye are.”
She remembered—a masterpiece.
He stopped laughing and went serious all of a sudden. “I am grateful for you. You know that, don’t you?”
He didn’t say grateful to you but for you. She shouldn’t put much stock in a word choice, but the distinction made all the difference to her. Her heart swelled.
She had to bring them both back down to earth. “Yeah, I’m grateful for you, too. Especially when you walked around in your boxers in Passage to Manchester. Ooh-la-la.” She shouldn’t have relegated him back to the movie star realm. But if she was going to safeguard her heart and maintain her sanity, she’d have to keep them firmly in their respective places.
“Aye, I’m just a pretty face. Thanks for reminding me,” he grumbled.
She’d hurt him. Her own heart wanted to tell him the truth. I see you. I know who you really are. But her heart had been stupid before, so she bit down on her lip to keep from saying it.
“I’d better get going,” Graham said. “Let Duncan know I called.” He hung up.
Cait looked down at the castle block in her hand. It was crushed in her fist. “Why do I have to be such an ass?”
Because you have to protect yourself, her rational brain answered.
Cait returned to the kitchen and found Duncan alone, Mattie nowhere in sight.
“Your da called,” she said to Duncan.
“So, what did he have to say? That he was too busy to be bothered with us mortals?”
Something in her snapped, and she didn’t care that Duncan was sick.
“Don’t you dare bad-mouth your da,” she said. “You have no idea the sacrifices he’s made for you.”
“I think I know better than you what he’s done and not done,” Duncan retorted.
“A regular Oliver Twist, were you?” she sneered. “Were you sent off to boarding school to live among strangers?”
Duncan remained silent.
Cait went on. “Or were you left in the care of family and friends?”
Duncan shrugged. “’Tis of no matter.”
“I know your da has done some stupid things, like sending those damnable doctors to examine you. But do you know why?” she said.
“To torture me.”
“No. He can’t accept that his lovely lad is sick. He had to have the best-of-the-best look into it and to hear it from them. He loves you so much, Duncan.”
“He has a strange way of showing it,” Duncan jabbed.
“Listen, Dunkie.” Because he was acting like a spoiled brat, she’d use his childhood name. “Your da just gave up the role of a lifetime for you. I read the script. It’s going to be a huge hit. Your da didn’t even think twice about it. He told them no on the off chance that his boy might need him. What do you have to say about that?”
“I never told him to give up any role.”
“But have you ever been grateful for anything that your da has done? Do you have any idea the money he shells out to help this town? He would’ve loved to be living the life that you’ve had. He only wanted to be like his own da, a fisherman. The fact that you’ve been able to live out his dream gives him great satisfaction. If he weren’t an actor and done the things that he’s done, you wouldn’t be here raising your son in this village. And without your da’s help, it’s possible this community would’ve been washed out to sea a long time ago.” Quite a speech on her part and maybe a stretch. She was thankful Duncan didn’t ask her how she knew all this.
He hung his head, perfectly ashamed.
“Good. I’m glad you’re getting the right of it. Your da is a good man, doing the best that he can with the abilities that he has.” She plopped down on the barstool next to him and laid
a hand on his shoulder. “All I ask is that you give him a break.”
“We’ll see,” was all he said.
Warily, Mattie walked into the room and mirrored Cait’s action, putting his hand on his da’s other shoulder. She felt bad that he’d heard that whole lecture, but she guessed it wasn’t terrible that the kid knew the truth.
“You know, Mattie,” she said to him, “you have a terrific da, too.”
Mattie looked up and nodded. Cait expected him to hug Duncan, but Mattie came over and kissed her cheek instead.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” she said. “I’m sure the quilting ladies are wondering where I’ve run off to.”
Cait found her phone on the bed in the room off the kitchen and gave only a passing thought as to why it was lying out before shoving it back in her pocket. She rejoined the others in Graham’s dining room, but they were winding up, all their sewing things being stowed back in their bags. It was just as well. Deydie was really in a snit now, and Cait was grateful for her guest room upstairs so she didn’t have to go back to her grandmother’s cottage with her.
As everyone filed out, they said goodbye. Except her gran, who only made a grating noise. Deydie’s revived contempt reminded Cait of her mission.
When she got to her room, she sat on the bed and laid her head in her hands. She just had to do this story. Not for herself, but for Gandiegow. Big star in little town. Tourists out the wazoo. They could sell Graham Buchanan souvenirs. Then maybe Gandiegow could stand on its own two feet without the help of Mr. Charitable. Whether or not any of them understood, Cait would be doing them all a favor by exposing Graham.
Focusing on the village made Cait more determined than ever. Tonight, when everyone slept, she would get back to working on the story. There was plenty of this house she hadn’t searched yet.
* * *
Later that night, after Duncan and Mattie went to bed, Cait slipped out of the guest bedroom and snuck across the hall to Graham’s room. As usual, Dingus lay in the center of his bed. He perked up when she came in and gave an excited yip.
“Shh,” she said as she closed the door behind her. “If you’re quiet, Caitie will give you an extra treat after she ransacks Master’s room.” Guilt welled up, and she squashed it down.
The dog ran to the edge of the bed, jumped off, and followed her into Graham’s closet.
“What little secrets do you have hiding in here?” she whispered.
She started at the top with an ancient red hatbox and pulled it down. When she took off the lid, she found pictures—black-and-white snapshots. She took the box to Graham’s bed and got comfortable, the dog cuddling up against her while she pulled out a handful of photos.
Graham had been a cute little boy, and she could see a lot of Mattie in him. Except Graham always had a smile on his face. It was like he was born to be in front of a camera, still or otherwise. Cait could’ve spent the rest of the night going through these pictures but decided she’d take this box back to her room and go through it later. Maybe there’d be more pictures of her mama in there, like the one Graham had given her for Christmas.
She squashed down the pang of guilt that rose up. Cait would write an article that painted him in the best of lights. He was a good guy and the world should know it.
She went back to the closet and pulled down a shoe box that held only a cruddy pair of worn work boots. They had to be important to Graham or else they wouldn’t be there. She took a picture of them with her cell phone and slipped them back on the shelf. As she was pulling down the next item, an old quilt, she heard Graham’s bedroom door creak open.
“Caitie?” Duncan whispered. “Are ye in here?”
She started to slip in among Graham’s suits but knew she’d been busted. She came out from the closet.
Duncan stood there drenched in sweat. “Can you help me?”
She ran over to him. “Are you all right?”
“Can you put Mattie into his room? I need to change the sheets. They’re soaked. I must’ve had a fever when I went to bed.”
She moved the red hatbox to the floor. “Here, lie down. I’ll take care of Mattie and the bed. Do you need something to drink?”
“No. I’ll be fine.” He’d already stretched out and closed his eyes. Dingus tentatively crawled up beside him and lay down.
“I’ll be back in a flash.” Cait shut the door behind her.
If Duncan had been a little more cognizant, he would’ve demanded to know what she was doing in his da’s closet.
She went into his room and saw Mattie, the boy she loved so much, lying in the bed. This beautiful child had been through hell. He was still going through hell with his da so sick. Her heart ached for Mattie. She wished she could take his pain away. She would never do anything to hurt him. Never.
In that moment, Cait had clarity, the unmistakable truth now blindingly clear. She couldn’t do the story on Graham. God, how could she have been so dumb for so long? He and his family had come to mean the world to her, everything she held dear. It would hurt him, and to hurt Graham would hurt everyone. She’d stupidly been lying to herself to think that she could expose him. And Duncan. And Mattie. But she couldn’t. Not for the good of the town. Not for any reason.
She moved Mattie to her bed in case he had a bad dream and kissed his forehead before leaving. For a long moment, she watched over him, knowing she was finally on the right path. Next she changed Duncan’s sheets and then helped him back to his bed. After a few sips of water, he was back to sleep before she left his room.
“When are you coming home, Graham?” she said to herself just outside Duncan’s door. “We need you.”
But Death was the one who answered. She could feel him laughing at her efforts to keep him at bay, tendrils of dread pricking at her spine.
* * *
Deydie busied herself with binding the quilt, avoiding Bethia’s gaze.
“Something is on yere mind. And don’t tell me it isn’t,” Bethia said as she sat down at Deydie’s wooden table. “What is it ye’re keeping from me?”
Deydie waved her hand in the air, not looking up. “Nothing’s going on. Yere powers are off, that’s all.” Except Bethia’s instincts were square on, as always.
Deydie was fuming mad over Caitie and that story, enough to take a stick to that girl. She felt damn near ornery enough to tell Graham, her quilting ladies, and the whole town what tomfoolery her granddaughter had been up to.
But she hadn’t.
Graham was like a son to Deydie, and she’d protect him from the devil himself. But every time she thought she might break the bad news, she couldn’t. There was something about Caitie’s face. An expression. Especially when she looked upon Graham. Her eyes shone bright then. Deydie didn’t know a damn thing about romance; too much work to be done to worry over that nonsense. But that look haunted her. That look spoke of love.
Deydie sighed heavily. Where there was love, there was always hope. Hope Caitie would do the right thing and not write that story. Besides, no need preparing the tar and feathers if the lass had second thoughts.
“I’ll just watch and wait,” Deydie mumbled.
“Speak up,” Bethia scolded.
“I didn’t say anything,” Deydie spouted. “Maybe it’s time you got one of those hearing aids.”
* * *
Cait walked up and down the seashore at dusk, trying to work up her nerve to call Margery Pinchot. She’d put it off for most of the day. The cowardice in her wanted to send a text message and be done with it. But Cait was no coward. Besides, Margery deserved to hear Cait’s voice. Finally, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.
When Margery answered, Cait swallowed her pride and told the truth.
“This is Cait Macleod. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner.”
“Is the story done?” Margery sounded frigid.
&n
bsp; “I can’t do it,” Cait confessed. “I never should’ve said I could, and I’m sorry I kept you hanging.” She took a deep breath and plowed on. “I was mistaken.”
It was the truth. Cait was mistaken about a lot of things. Mistaken that she could write a story about Graham and think it wouldn’t hurt anyone. She was mistaken to think she could keep a professional distance from a town that she loved so much. And she’d been mistaken for some time now that she could betray anyone. Even to save herself.
Margery handled it as well as could be expected. Obscenities flew through the cell phone towers between New York and Scotland. When she was done, Cait apologized again and hung up.
The deed was done, but the guilt still lingered. Her only consolation was that no one else knew what she’d been up to. She trudged to the big house and found she was still in a load of trouble with Deydie. The ole gal didn’t give her two civilized words in a row but kept an eye on Cait as if the silverware and candlesticks would go missing.
Over the next several weeks, Cait concentrated on doing her best to take care of Duncan and Mattie to atone for nearly writing the story. Duncan called Graham every day now, and because Graham’s schedule had gotten hectic, the incoming calls from Mr. Movie Star to her had dwindled. Between her gran’s newfound contempt and Cait’s infrequent contact with Graham, she felt alone all over again.
Mattie, though, was the one bright spot in her life.
In the evening, Duncan started going to bed earlier than Mattie. Cait dug out all her favorite books from Graham’s collection and read to Mattie with him cuddled up on her lap. Winnie-the-Pooh was first, followed by The Wind in the Willows. It was their special time together where outside worries didn’t intrude and the moments were magical. She could tell Mattie had come to care for her, too. His face lit up whenever she came into a room, and his smiles were easier, too. And for her, Mattie was everything. There was such a peace inside her when she held Mattie, and it healed that part of her that had wanted a child of her own for so long.
The quilting ladies hadn’t been back to the house for a sewing bee since that day when Cait had started on the bluff blocks. When she finished the row and handed it to Deydie, she posed the question she’d been burning to ask.
To Scotland With Love Page 23