Glasgow Grace (10 page)

Relief spread through her throat as numbness set in. This spray was far more effective than any medication she’d been using.

He slipped the throat spray into her hand. “You can use it every two to three hours.”

“Thank you, doctor.” She forced a smile to her face, repressing her fears. “What do I owe you for this ‘house call,’” her fingers indicated quotation marks, “and the medicine?”

“Och, lassie, nothing. Think of it as a Christmas gift.”

“Thank you.” Skye stood and gave him a light hug. “I’ll see you at breakfast then?”

“Aye.” The old doctor latched his medical bag and gripped the handle. “Get some sleep now, lassie.”

She took several steps then stopped and turned. “By the way, Merry Christmas, Dr. Allen.”

“Same to you, lassie. Same to you.”

Dragging herself upstairs, Skye couldn’t shake the feeling that the blue skies of today were a thing of the past. Tomorrow’s would be heavy and gray.

~*~

She’d been wrong. Feeling better than she had yesterday, Skye strode across the dining room, anxious for breakfast. Perhaps all she’d needed was a good night’s rest. The analgesic spray had certainly eased her throat and cough, and she was able to sleep. No doubt the emotional drain of visiting her father’s grave, added to the drama of Callum and his girlfriend—all in the space of less than twenty-four hours—played a big part in her malady. Uncertainty about going to see some specialist nipped at her heels, shadowing her path.

She stopped at the table where the kind doctor sat. He smiled at her as she eased into the chair opposite him.

“You’re looking better today. How are you feeling?”

“That throat spray you gave me last night was amazing.” She gave a small cough, followed by a sheepish grin. “Think you can you give me a few bottles?” A laugh spilled from her lips followed by another cough.

He cocked his head to the right. “Hmm. No. What I can give you is an appointment tomorrow morning with Dr. Cecil Webber at Southern General Hospital.”

“To-tomorrow?” Why so soon? She had only just arrived in Portree. And she felt fine. Well, better than last night. All she needed was some throat spray, not a drive back to Glasgow.

Dr. Allen reached across the table and patted her hand. “How long have you had this problem with your throat, lassie?”

“Only a few weeks.”

“That’s a few weeks too long, do you know that?”

She shook her head. “I’m sure it will pass soon. Just the flu or something like that.”

“It might be. But what if it isn’t? You may not have the luxury of waiting. You can’t take a chance. Rather have it seen to.”

He was right, of course. She couldn’t take a chance. Especially in her profession. Skye would have to resign herself to the fact that after breakfast she’d pack her bags again and head back to Glasgow. And Callum, maybe. But not before she’d placed flowers on her father’s grave. She might be overreacting, but Skye couldn’t take a chance. Err on the side of caution is what her Da had always taught her.

8

The late afternoon skies had turned from gray to black by the time Skye neared Glasgow. Her heart mirrored her surroundings. She hadn’t spent nearly as much time as she wanted to visiting her father’s grave. Heaven alone knew what waited, or didn’t, with Callum. To top it all, she could be seriously ill. For certain, Dr. Allen knew more about what was wrong with her than he let on. Oh, why hadn’t she stayed in Sydney for Christmas where it was warm and she had family and friends? It had been a bad decision to come to Scotland earlier.

Once back at the hotel, she’d take a long bubble bath, and then slip between those cotton sheets and try to get some sleep. By ten AM tomorrow, she’d hopefully know what ailed her.

The minute Skye hit Glasgow’s traffic, she discarded the idea to drive to her appointment in the morning. She’d rather return the car and catch a taxi—it was easier on the nerves. Too exhausted to hand in the rental’s keys at the concierge desk, she parked in the basement and then took the elevator to the fourteenth floor. She’d drop the keys in the morning. All she wanted at this moment was her bath and bed. And Callum. No, discard that thought. He was probably in the arms of his girlfriend.

Skye dragged her feet down the corridor that led to her room, trailing her suitcase behind her. The wheels moved over the thick carpeting with less ease than they had in the parking lot. Her luggage seemed as reluctant to return to a lonely hotel room as she.

Focusing her attention on the pattern of the carpet, Skye forced one foot in front of the other. As she turned the corner to her room, she looked up. What? Couldn’t be. “Callum?” What was he doing squatting outside her hotel room?

He sprang to his feet. “You’re back.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Thank God. I’ve been beside myself with worry.”

Shocked to see him there, Skye failed to return the affection. Instead, she tightened her grip on her suitcase. “Wh-what are you doing here? How long have you been sitting in the passage?”

“The whole of yesterday and today. I’ve all but slept here.” Callum brushed his fingers through her hair. “We need to talk.”

Uh-oh. Was that a good sign, or a bad one? It was hard to tell from the expression on his face. But he had spent two days waiting outside her door—that had to say something, didn’t it? Which meant he hadn’t spent Christmas with Katie. Skye repressed the glimmer of hope, refusing to allow it free rein until Callum had fully explained.

“All right.” She dug in her coat pocket and retrieved her key card. The door unlocked the moment she inserted it into the reader.

“Here, let me get that.” Callum leaned around her and opened the door. “Leave your suitcase. I’ll bring it in for you.”

Without a word, she stepped forward, looking over her shoulder as she moved inside the room. Callum had retrieved a book from the floor where he’d sat. Probably something he had brought to read. The last two days must’ve been long if he’d been there most of the time, waiting for her return. What if she’d stayed in Portree until the New Year? How long would he have sat there?

Callum closed the door as Skye set her handbag and jacket down on the bed.

She slid her cellphone onto the bedside table.

Standing behind her, Callum clasped her arms, his breath warm against her neck. “Why did you disappear?”

She longed to turn and melt into his embrace. Instead, she remained frozen. Had she acted foolishly? Taken off too soon? “I-I couldn’t stay here alone thinking about you…Katie…”

“Hey.” Callum turned Skye around and pulled her to him.

She buried her face in his chest.

Callum drew her head back and smoothed his hands over her hair. With one finger on her chin, he tipped her face up, searching her eyes. “You wouldn’t have been alone. I would have been with you.”

“But, Ka—”

“There is no Katie. Hasn’t been for months. She refused to accept that, until Christmas Eve.” He moved her bag and jacket further across the bed. “Sit down. I need to show you something.”

Skye did as Callum requested. He turned and picked up the book he’d set on top of her suitcase before joining her on the edge of the bed.

“What is that?”

Callum smiled as he brushed his hand across the cover. “A yearbook.”

“Yours?”

He nodded. “I got it shortly after you left Scotland.” It was evident by the way he flipped through the pages, coming to an abrupt halt near the back, that he’d been to that particular page many times.

Skye craned to get a better look, and Callum moved the open book to rest on both their laps.
I don’t believe it.
She stared at the page and allowed a smile to run free across her face. “That’s—”

“Us. Yes. At my school prom.”

“Look how young we were.”

“You looked so beautiful that night.”

“And you so handsome.”

His hand found hers, and his fingers brushed hers like a feather, stirring her emotions. “You’re still incredibly beautiful.”

And you are even more handsome. As
much as Skye wanted, she couldn’t verbalize the words. He owed her an explanation. Or did he? There was no them. They’d only reconnected three days ago. If she had to place a social media status about their relationship—if she bothered with social media—it would be: It’s complicated.

Callum’s lips parted in a smile. “Guess that’s why we were crowned prom king and queen.”

Good move on his part to return to the previous conversation.

Skye nudged him in the side with her elbow. “I think it had more to do with you being Mr. Popular in your school.”

“Oh, I think we would’ve had the same problem at your school had your mother allowed me to escort you.” He exhaled. “We know that was never an option for her—me, taking you to your debutante’s ball.”

Skye placed her hand over Callum’s. Until now, his had remained only close enough to let her know it was there. Was he waiting for her permission to explore what had been so natural to them as teens? She took the lead and entwined her fingers with his and squeezed. “Da would have let you, but by then he was so ill, no fight left in him to argue any longer with my mother over you.” She gazed into his eyes. “I wish you had taken me. You would’ve looked dashing in a kilt.”

“Well, you did look amazing in your white ball gown.”

“You saw me? How?”

Callum’s mouth lifted on one side. “I stood in the shadows opposite your house that night, waiting to catch a glimpse of you.”

“You did? You never told me.”

“I know. I felt too foolish the next day. Like a stalker. So, I kept quiet about my lapse into jealousy. I—it was the first time you had been out with anyone but me.”

“And I hated it. Thought of you all night long. Imagined it was your arms holding me as we danced.”

“I spent the night brooding about how much I wanted to kick your kilt-attired escort in his tush.”

Laughter burst from Skye’s mouth. “That would have put new meaning to the Highland fling. I’m very glad you didn’t—you could’ve revealed to the world what a Scotsman wears beneath his kilt.”

The yearbook slid from Callum’s grasp and fell to the carpeted floor with a
thunk
as he lifted his hand to clasp her cheek. Stroking it with his thumb, he whispered her name, his voice husky. He moved his hand and edged his fingers through her hair like a wave rushing up the beach. Grasping the back of her head, he willed her face toward his.

She needed no encouragement. Her breathing increased its pace as she closed her eyes and parted her lips.

The shrill sound of her cellphone sliced through the moment, breaking the spell.

Callum groaned and pulled her to his chest, holding her tight. He kissed the top of her head. “You want to get that?”

Skye buried her face in his shoulder, her answer soft. “No…” Oh, my, did he smell good. She released a thankful sigh as the ringing stopped then tipped her head toward Callum. Would he realize her eyes pleaded for him to continue where he had left off?

Placing a finger beneath her chin, he inched her mouth closer. Once again, she closed her eyes, expectant. Once again, the shrill ring of the phone, determined to ruin the moment.

“I can’t believe this.” She pulled away from Callum.

“I think you’d better get that,” he flashed a grin, “so that we can continue uninterrupted.” He reached to the side, grabbed Skye’s cellphone and handed the bothersome device to her.

She glanced at the caller ID displayed on the screen. Much as she didn’t want to, she’d have to answer. Mother would not go away until she did. Besides, Skye had a lot of things to say to her. She’d had a few days to mull over the reality of her mother’s actions all those years ago when she’d altered the course of their lives.

~*~

Skye turned the phone toward Callum. He recognized the face in the corner icon. Would that woman ever stop coming between them?

“I’m sorry. I’ll have to take this.” Skye pouted, clearly not looking forward to the conversation.

“It’s all right. Go ahead.”

Swiping her fingertip across the screen, she answered the call, her voice as cold as the weather outside. “Mother…why are you calling? It must be the middle of the night there. Is something wrong with Ted?” She pushed up off the bed and walked across to the window. Turning, she glanced at Callum and smiled before crossing her right arm over her chest. Her fingers wrapped around the upper half of the arm that held the phone to her ear. Ready for battle?

Callum had seen that stance as a teenager whenever they found something to argue about. Would Skye confront her mother about the letters? Now? With him still in the room?

“Because I only just got back to my hotel room, Mother. I’ve been away…drove to Portree for Christmas to visit Da’s grave.” Only a few days back and her voice was already tinged with a hint of her motherland.

He liked that. Her mother wouldn’t.

Red washed Skye’s face like a summer sunset. She chewed on her lip, breathing in deep. Her brow crinkled. “What do you mean I’m already adopting that common patter? I would never have lost it if you hadn’t interfered.” A moment’s pause. “Yes. You heard me right. In-ter-fe-red.” She glanced at Callum again.

Was she waiting for some sign of approval from him so she could let her mother have it? He gave a weak smile, unsure whether he wanted to land in the middle of their fight, knowing full well he would. He had always been the bone of contention between this mother and daughter. Callum rose from the bed and walked across to Skye. Might as well get everything out in the open. If he planned to fight for Skye, he’d have to start now. He gestured for her to hand him the phone.

A grin spread across her face.

Taking the phone, he drew in a breath and raised it to his ear.

Skye placed a hand on his arm and elevated herself on her toes, laying her head beside his. She pressed her ear to the edge of the phone.

“Good evening, Mrs. Hu—Robinson. Please allow me first to wish you and your husband a Merry Christmas.”

“Wh-who is this? Skye…are you entertaining a man in your room?” Rita Robinson’s voice burst through the phone speaker so loud Skye had no need to press her ear against it. Her fingers tightened on his arm.