To Scotland With Love (9 page)

The box made a little shuffling noise.

Deydie scowled at Cait, irritation filling in her wrinkles. “What is your plan for that mutt?”

Cait jumped up. “I nearly forgot. I brought
you
a little present, too.”

“Bribe,” Deydie muttered.

Cait retrieved the chocolate-covered cherries from her coat. “Not exactly. It's more of a bargaining chip.”

Deydie did her usual
harrumph.

Cait took it as a good sign. “I thought we could do this together as a favor for Duncan,” she said firmly.

“We?” Deydie accused.

Cait gave Rhona the last pressed strip to add to the quilt top. “The puppy can't stay at the pub. Graham would hear him. I thought I could stay here at your cottage and
we
could take care of him together.”

Deydie stomped over to her rocking chair but didn't sit. Instead, she turned and stared intently at Cait. With the fire as a backdrop, her gran looked every bit the Scottish warrior. Or demon witch. “I knew ye wanted something from me.”

Bethia dove in and scolded her like no one else could. “Caitie's family. You have to let her stay with you.”

Deydie plopped into her rocking chair. “Bring it to me.”

Cait brought over the box. “I'll do everything. But I'll need backup.” If Deydie helped with the dog, Cait might
still have a chance to search Graham's house before he got back. But she felt the opportunity slipping away. When did he say he'd be home exactly?

Deydie stuck her hand in the box and pulled out the puppy. She held it up and frowned at his face. “You're an ugly-looking mongrel.”

The dog wagged his tail.

“He's a purebred sheltie,” Cait defended.

Deydie set the dog on the floor at her feet. He stood and took a few wobbly steps, then squatted by her big toe.

“Don't you dare,” Deydie barked. The dog stopped and peered up as if he understood—Deydie was the alpha dog. “Moira, take it outside so it can do its business.”

Moira grabbed the dog and left. Within minutes, they were back. “He's so good. He went right away.” She laid the dog in Deydie's lap.

“It probably has fleas,” Deydie groused. The dog licked her hand and rubbed up against her.

Amy came over and knelt beside her. “So can he stay?” She acted as if she had a stake in it. Which she didn't. Deydie was Cait's gran.

“I suppose. For Duncan and Mattie and Graham.” In other words, not because Cait had asked her. Deydie set the dog back in the box. “Now, let's get this baby quilt finished.”

Rhona pulled the Log Cabin quilt top from her machine. “The top's done. It's ready to pin.”

After they cleared the big table of the sewing machines, Cait spread the backing fabric out, right-side down. Deydie, Ailsa, and Aileen taped it to the table. Moira layered the quilt batting on top of that and then Rhona positioned the newly made quilt top over the
batting. They all grabbed a container of safety pins and went to work. Because there were so many hands, the quilt was pinned in record time.

“I really appreciate your help.” Rhona held up the nearly finished product. “I'll stitch this together tomorrow.”

“Nonsense,” Bethia said. “We'll take turns doing it now. You have the Christmas pageant coming up.”

“We'll get it done tonight,” Deydie gruffed. “Amy, get the sandwiches from the icebox. Moira, sit with that dog and make sure he doesn't poop on anything.” She turned to Cait. “Set up yere fancy sewing machine and get to work on stitching that quilt.”

“Aye, aye.” Cait saluted. The other women jumped into action. The twins made them all spiced cider. Bethia and Deydie went to the rocking chairs by the fire while Rhona directed Cait as to what she envisioned.

“It should be Stitched in the Ditch. Make sure you keep the stitch right in the seam. That's it,” Rhona coached.

Cait smiled. Her teacher hadn't changed a bit—always the instructor.

“Leave her alone,” Deydie called out. “Any granddaughter of mine knows how to Stitch in the Ditch.”

Shocked, Cait about ran the needle over her finger. Had her gran actually claimed her as her own? She risked a glance in her direction but couldn't make out her gran's expression with the rocking chair moving back and forth.

After Amy had downed her sandwich, she tapped Cait's shoulder. “Go get something to eat. I'll have a crack at it.”

“Are you sure?” Cait asked.

“I've been itching to get my hands on your sewing
machine since you got here. I saw one in Glasgow when I was on holiday. Coll and I could never afford a machine like that, you know, but a lass can dream. You don't mind, do you?”

“Of course not. There's a couple of cool gadgets on here you're going to love.” Cait showed her the extras, then went to get a sandwich.

Ailsa and Aileen sat in the rocking chairs now, taking turns holding the puppy. “Do you have a name for the dog?” Ailsa asked.

Before Cait could answer, Deydie spat, “There's only one name for a mutt like that and it surely ain't Precious. We'll call him Dipshit.”

The puppy growled.

“Oh, all right,” Deydie said with extra emphasis. “I
suppose
Mattie wouldn't be allowed to say Dipshit, now, would he?” She snatched the puppy out of Ailsa's hands and held him up, looking the little guy in the eye. “Yere name's Dingus. And that's that,” she declared.

The dog yipped twice in approval.

“That's a terrible name,” Cait protested.

“Tough shite.” Deydie glared at her. “It's in my house, and I'll name it whatever I want.”

“It's not up to you to name him,” Cait argued. “It's Graham's dog.” A flush came to her face. She felt both embarrassed and warmed just by saying his name. She didn't know why she was defending Graham's rights so vehemently, the same man she planned to betray. The same man who pretended they could be friends. Yeah, right, like a movie star would have any use for a mortal, everyday girl like her. What difference did it make what Deydie called his dog? None. “Call him whatever you want.”

As the evening wore on, she showed them all how to use the machine. When they'd all had a turn—except Deydie, who seemed to keep herself busy during switching time—the quilting was done.

While everyone else cleaned up, Rhona worked on the binding. “I'll take this home and hand stitch it down tomorrow evening after school.”

“Leave it with me,” Deydie said. “I'll have it done and ye won't have to worry about it. Ye've got the pageant. Gandiegow's depending on you.”

“All right, then,” Rhona acquiesced.

The twins grabbed their coats. “What a lot of fun,” Ailsa said.

“A lot of fun,” Aileen copied, smiling at them all. “Moira, tell your da we'll be by to see him tomorrow. We're making him a Christmas stollen. Something to cheer him up.”

Moira looked down at the floor. “I know he'll appreciate it.”

Ailsa handed Moira's coat to her. “It'll give you a chance to slip out if you have any last-minute shopping to do.”

Cait thought this strange. It wasn't like there was a mall or anything near.

Moira seemed to appreciate the offer, though. “That would be nice.”

The quilting ladies filed out, leaving Cait alone with Deydie.

“
Dingus
will need a bite to eat.” Deydie went to the cabinet and pulled out a small can of fancy dog food.

Cait was puzzled until she realized Deydie must've kept it on hand for Precious. She took the can from her and prepared a little of it for the puppy.

The little fur ball ate his fill and promptly fell asleep.

Cait pulled out the trundle while Deydie went into the bathroom.

When her gran came out and crawled into bed, she leaned over and snatched the puppy from Cait.

Deydie settled the dog in her arms. “You'd just crush it,” her gran said.

Cait sighed.
And the sweet comments just keep on coming.
She wrapped her arms around herself.

After a moment, she turned off the light, slipped out of her clothes, leaving on only her long underwear and a T-shirt. She fell into bed.

“Good night,” Cait said to the darkness.

The darkness remained silent.

C
ait dreamed she was on a boat, being tossed back and forth belowdecks. Deydie ruled the ship as captain with Graham as first mate. Cait wanted to be out enjoying the fresh air and to find out why there was laughing and singing. But every time she climbed the steps leading up to the deck, the boat would rock, and she would lose her footing and go crashing to the floor. Then more tossing and turning.

Cait woke up, unsure at first where she was. Deydie shook her shoulders. “Get up. That damned dog has had his breakfast. Now take him out.” She laid the furry creature on Cait's belly.

But Cait didn't want to get up. It was still dark out.

“There's coffee left in the pot.” Deydie's tone made Cait wonder whether her gran meant it to be nice or if Cait was supposed to clean out the carafe.

“Okay,” Cait said noncommittally as Deydie whirled out the front door.

She set little Dingus on the floor while she got up. If she could've just lain there a while longer, she might've been able to make sense of the strange dream she was having. Was her subconscious trying to tell her she hadn't
gotten her sea legs yet? And what the hell did that mean anyway?

She made the bed and pushed it back under Deydie's. She dressed in her usual brown attire, slipped on her coat, and took the puppy out. Back inside, the coffee hit the spot and she made sure to wash out the carafe and set it in the drainer to dry. She tucked Dingus into her coat and left for the pub to pack a small bag. And grab a clean notebook while she was at it. She'd need it for when she tackled Graham's house.

At the pub, the puppy napped on the bed while she gathered her things together. At the last minute, she remembered her laptop and power cord. She put the dog back into her coat and set off for Deydie's. On her way out, she ran into Bonnie, the barmaid, whose low-cut Christmas sweater showed too much cleavage for her to make Santa's
Nice List.

“Haven't seen you around lately.” Bonnie certainly didn't sound like she'd missed her.

“Been staying at my gran's,” Cait said, hoping Dingus would keep quiet so she didn't have to explain why her breast was whining. “Listen, I'd better run. She's expecting me.” Cait turned to go.

Bonnie blocked her path. “You've not heard from Graham, have you?”

“No. Why would I?”

“Good. I'm glad you realize he doesn't answer to you. Or belong to you,” Bonnie added with a sneer. “You'd better remember that.”

Cait wanted to deck her, but she stepped around her instead. The fact that Bonnie wanted to get her hooks into Graham made Cait want to get Deydie's chicken knife and put it to good use.

And just so Cait could dig the proverbial knife in, she added over her shoulder, “When he gets back, I'll let him know you want to see him. Or maybe I won't.” Like he'd call Cait first when he made it ashore.

Bonnie and her considerable rack huffed off. Cait hoped she'd go take a running leap off the pier.

The dog mewed a little then. Cait put her hand in her coat and ruffled his soft fur. “It's okay, buddy. She's a piece of work, isn't she?”

The sun came out from under the clouds and made Cait feel better. She hurried off through the small row of businesses. On impulse, she swung into the store. Amy, like a permanent fixture, was behind the counter, arranging receipts. “Hey, ya,” she said.

Cait put a hand up in greeting. “I thought I'd pick up some groceries.” A brilliant idea lit up her brain. “Do you know if Moira and her da have any plans for Christmas?”

“Kenneth won't be leaving the house right now. The doctor said he has to stay in bed until he's stronger,” Amy supplied.

“If I give you a list of things, can you have them delivered to their house?” And because Amy was a bit of a friendly blabbermouth, Cait added, “Without letting anyone know? I mean absolutely no one.”

“Mum's the word.” Amy gave her a big grin. “You're a nice woman, Caitie Macleod. I know all of Kenneth and Moira's favorites, if that'd be a help.”

“That would be great.” Cait unzipped her coat to give the pup some air.

“Oh, you've got the wee one with you.” Amy came around the counter. “Can I hold him while we work on that list?”

Cait handed over Dingus.

It didn't take long to come up with enough food to last Moira and Kenneth a good month. At the same time, Cait filled a sack full of nutritious items for her and Deydie, then took Dingus back from Amy and set off.

When Cait got to her gran's, she took a page from Amy's book and didn't knock, but walked right on in. She left her backpack by the door.

Deydie looked up from her rocking chair. Rhona's baby quilt lay across her lap along with a needle and thread. “Where's the cur?” she growled.

“Right here.” Cait pulled out the fur ball and put him in the box near Deydie's feet.

“Hmmph,” Deydie said, plunging the needle into the binding of the quilt.

While Cait unloaded the groceries, she chewed the inside of her cheek. She needed to go to Graham's and she needed an excuse. Her laptop wouldn't do. She could charge it here, using Deydie's powerhouse electric, courtesy of
Himself.

“When yere done there, ye're off to Duncan's,” Deydie commanded. “It's time for him to check the nets. Put that roast in the oven while yere there.”

I can't. There's something I need to do,
Cait shouted inside her head.

Without so much as an
Is that okay with you?
, Deydie spoke again. “Get on. And leave that mutt here.”

Later,
Cait promised herself. Later she'd get to Graham's and work on that story. Margery at
People
magazine would want it soon.

She headed out into the cold and walked at a brisk pace. She nearly froze her butt off waiting for Duncan to open the door. Both he and the boy had their coats on.

Duncan pulled a wool cap over his head. “I was just on my way to drop Mattie at Ailsa and Aileen's.”

Mattie hung back in the hallway, as quiet as wallpaper.

She looked directly at him. “I'll stay with him, and we'll have some cocoa. If that's okay with you?”

No response from Mattie.

“Are you sure you don't mind watching the little monkey?” Duncan squeezed Mattie's shoulder.

“You go. Take your time.” She turned to Mattie. “Do you have any Christmas music?”

The boy pointed to the parlor and she followed him as Duncan slipped out the door.

Once in front of the CD cabinet, she prompted Mattie. “Any suggestions?”

He didn't budge.

“I know it's silly, but I like the
Chipmunks Christmas.
” She pulled it from its slot. “What's your favorite?”

He pulled out the
Highland Christmas
CD.

“Excellent choice. We'll put yours on first.” She looked at the complicated stereo system. “Do you know how it works?”

Mattie removed the
Chipmunks Christmas
from her hand and popped it into the player. He hit two buttons and Alvin came on. He opened his CD case and loaded his music in as well.

She smiled at him. “Promise this'll be our little secret, that I like the
Chipmunks Christmas,
okay
?
”

He just stared at her.

In the kitchen, they sat at the dining room table eating shortbread cookies and drinking cocoa. Afterward, Mattie watched her put the roast in the oven.

When the
Chipmunks Christmas
finished on the
stereo, the Celtic music came on. Mournful bagpipes filled the house with an eerie wail.
Death music
. She caught Mattie staring desolately out the window toward the sea. Too young to be so sad.

Maybe she'd take him down to the coastline to take his mind off his sorrows.

“Get your coat, kiddo,” she said cheerfully. “We're going for a walk.”

Mattie slipped soundlessly out of his chair, moving like a ghost as he retrieved both of their jackets.

Outside, the sun made a rare appearance, sneaking from behind the gray clouds in the sky. Two large white gannets, their black-tipped wings stretched outwardly, sailed above them.

She peeked over at Mattie, who was watching the elegant birds. “So, your da is a fisherman. Do you go out with him often?” She didn't expect an answer, so she went on. “I bet you're a right good fisherman yourself.” She stared out at the waves crashing violently against the rocks.

She stepped up on the pier and noticed Mattie stayed on the ground. “Come on, pokey. Let's go all the way to the end.” Someone had scraped the ice off and salted the planks clear.

Mattie didn't move, his face turning as pale as the whitewashed deck.

“Come on, Mattie. There's nothing to be scared of.” She hopped up and down on the wood planks. “It's been here a hundred years. It'll be here a hundred more.” She took his hand and pulled him onto the pier.

She started walking, holding his little hand. “Yesterday I saw three fishing boats just there beyond the rocks. Maybe we'll see your da's boat coming in.”

Mattie stumbled. When she righted him, she found him
trembling, his eyes transfixed to the spot she'd pointed to just off the rocks.

She saw nothing there except the splash of waves. “What's wrong, Mattie?”

His eyes grew wide as life preservers. He opened his mouth in a terrified scream. Except nothing came out. He pointed off in the distance, the silent scream going on and on.

Panic gripped her. She grabbed him and wrapped her arms around him. “It'll be all right, honey.” Then she gave him a gentle shake, praying he'd snap out of it.

From the walkway, she heard urgent cries and the footsteps of two people hurrying onto the pier. Moira sprinted full-out on the planks with Deydie lumbering as fast as her plump body would carry her.

“Get him away from there,” her gran shouted. “Have you gone crazy?”

Cait turned toward Deydie, whose face was a sea of rage and fury, anger seething from every corner of her wrinkled face.

“A walk,” Cait cried. “That's all. We went for a walk.”

Moira snatched Mattie up, cooing at him. “Shh, shh. It's all right,” over and over. Mattie buried his face into Moira's shoulder as she whisked him off the pier and onto higher ground.

Deydie slammed her hands on her hips, blocking Cait's escape. “Why did you bring the boy out here?”

“I thought we'd watch for boats.”

Deydie eyed her with accusation. “Or were you meddling, trying to making him face his fears?”

“W-what?” Cait stammered. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“The
Water Dawn
. It sank and drowned six men.”
Deydie glared out at the rocks. “Out there. Last spring. When a sudden storm came up. Mattie and Duncan were standing right here when it happened. Duncan took that blue dinghy and tried rowing out to them, shouting for Mattie to go for help. Mattie froze. The ship sank, and we're lucky Duncan didn't go down with them.”

“I . . . I didn't know.” Cait's eyes stung. “I'm so sorry.”

Deydie harpooned her with a killer glare. “Sorry don't fix a damn thing, missy. Have you no sense? Didn't you wonder why the boy doesn't speak?”

The wind sent a spray of salt water up, smacking Cait directly in the face. After what she'd done, Cait doubted Mattie would ever speak again.

Deydie despises me
. And Cait deserved her scorn. When the townsfolk heard what had happened here today, they'd hate her, too. Including Duncan. And Graham. She ran off the pier.

“Of all the devilment,” Deydie shouted after her. “Go on, now. Get yereself back to the cottage.”

Cait ran to the pub instead. She burst in and dashed past Bonnie's gaping bloody-red lipsticked mouth, past gawking men with the stink of dead fish on them. Cait ran up the stairs with Father Death sailing right behind her, laughing, mocking, torturing her once again. She threw herself on the bed and cried for herself and for Mattie, so utterly defeated.

Death was such an asshole.

* * *

Hours passed. Cait didn't ever want to leave the pub again. Embarrassment and guilt almost had her packing for Chicago.

But she came from tougher stock—north coast Scottish stock. She'd also made a pledge to stick with Deydie
come hell or high water. Even if her grandmother told her to shove off.

Cait pulled herself out of bed and splashed water on her red, puffy eyes. She'd go back to Deydie's and face her.

When she walked through Deydie's door, the old woman hollered at Cait, not about Mattie, but an errand. “Run up to Graham's and get my sewing basket. I finished Rhona's quilt but forgot the damn basket. I need to darn a sock or two after dinner.”

Great
. Finally the chance to ransack Graham's place and her heart wasn't in it. She needed to clear the air with Deydie first. But Deydie was acting like nothing had happened.

Cait fingered the cell phone in her pocket, hoping it was charged up enough to take photos for the story about Graham. The ticket to her new life. A life that didn't include so much pain and involved a little less contact with Old Man Death. “Where's the basket?”

“In the parlor, next to Precio—” Deydie stopped herself. “Next to the fireplace. The key is on the hook by the door.”

“I'll be back,” Cait said, grabbing the key, even though she had her own, and went out the door.

Hurrying, Cait wound her way up the path and noticed her gran had left a few lights on. She unlocked the door, but when she swung it open, Graham stood there. The headline flashed before her eyes.

WOMAN FOUND DEAD OF FRIGHT ON FAMOUS ACTOR'S PORCH

She grabbed her chest, trying to breathe, and at the same time, noted how good he looked. Damn good. He wore a
tweed jacket, black turtleneck, and jeans that hugged him perfectly. The concern on his face, though, looked out of place.