The Trouble with Scotland (21 page)

Emma shook her head. “You're not plain, Sadie Middleton. You're you. The most perfect version of yourself.”

Sadie nodded to assure Emma. “I know therapists have to say stuff like that, but you don't need to protect my ego. I'm okay with being plain. I'm a realist.”

“I'm a realist, too. And your friend. And as your friend, I'm going to give it to you straight. Do you understand?”

Sadie braced herself, but she figured Emma wouldn't tell her anything new.

Emma gazed into her eyes with earnestness. “Anyone who meets you automatically loves you.” She squeezed her hands again for emphasis. “Ask anyone in Gandiegow.”

That statement delivered a hell of a wallop to Sadie's chest. On its heels came another.

But Ross doesn't love me.
No man had ever loved her. And that was okay. Somehow, though, she knew she was responsible for running Ross out of town. She'd do anything to take back whatever she'd said or done that
pushed him away. Had it been because she'd lied to him and said he wasn't her type?

Emma touched her arm as if to reassure. “Deydie and some of the others seem a bit harsh at first, but it's no reflection on you. It's their way of protecting their corner of Scotland.”

Emma had misread Sadie's consternation. And Sadie couldn't bare her soul and talk about her crush on Ross. She could hardly admit it to herself.

“Now that we have that settled”—Emma glanced at the door as if it was a watch and their time was nearly up—“tell me why you believe you killed your grandmother.”

Because Emma had woven such a deep layer of trust and confidence around them, Sadie felt safe to tell her what had happened. “The second I started my first dental hygienist job, I knew I couldn't do it. Not long term. Not even short term. I went behind Gigi's back and looked into going to graduate school for library science. But I didn't get around to applying right away because, well, I was spending a lot of time at the doctor's office, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. And when the diagnosis came, everything was up in the air, and I wasn't sure I could handle the graduate program. At the last second, I decided to go for it. The application was due at five p.m., and Gigi called at four and asked me to run by the quilt shop and pick up the fabric she'd been waiting for; her hair appointment was running late. I told her I couldn't do it. I didn't tell her why, and Gigi was upset with me. I figured I would wait and tell her after I was accepted into the program.”

“So what happened?” Emma asked quietly.

“Gigi made it to the quilt shop as they were closing.
She was out of breath and holding her chest. The quilt shop owner said she collapsed just as she made it to the counter.”

“Oliver told us she'd had a heart attack,” Emma said gently.

“The paramedics said she was gone when they arrived.” A tear slipped down Sadie's cheek. “If only I had gone to the shop when she asked me. I was sending in my application at the same moment Gigi died. My selfishness killed her.”

Emma slipped her arm around Sadie. “No. You didn't kill your grandmother.” She squeezed her shoulder. “But maybe taking the blame has been easier than facing the fact that you have to go on without her.”

“What?” Sadie pulled away, feeling angry and confused.

“I didn't know your grandmother, but I'm certain if she was here right now, she would agree with me.” Unwavering, Emma stared steadily into Sadie's eyes. “She would be proud that you were making decisions for your own life, moving in the direction that you felt was best for your future. Who doesn't want that for her child?”

“But Gigi wasn't my mother.”

“True. But I understand from Oliver that she raised you both. She was your grandmother, but in a lot of respects, she played the role of mother, too. She would only want what's best for you. And as mothers, we tend to think that we know what's best . . . like I do for Angus. But if all goes well, one day I'll put myself out of a job, and he'll be able to start making decisions for himself.” She paused for a second. “Just like you did.”

The realization started to sink in. Sadie knew Gigi.
She might've been a little upset with her at first, but she had a way of accepting things, even faster than Sadie herself. Gigi was forever saying,
Nothing is more constant in life than change.

Emma gave her an understanding smile. “I promise that when you're ready to go through your grief that you will give up blaming yourself. But in the meantime, I feel like I have to say it again . . . Gigi's death is not your fault.”

Loud banging sounded at the door. Then Deydie squished her face up against the glass.

“Should I let her in?” Emma asked.

“If you know what's good for both of us.”

Emma got to her feet. Sadie stood, too, and hugged her new friend.

Deydie pounded harder. Her muffled, “Unlock this door,” filtered inside.

Sadie laughed, feeling lighter than she had in days. “I'm going to wash my face.”

She took her time in the restroom. When she walked out, she felt self-conscious, but neither Deydie nor the other women who had shown up descended on her. Sadie was grateful. She was also grateful that one of them had moved Gigi's fabric box to another table, farther away. Sadie would have to face that box eventually, but now wasn't the time.

Sadie and Emma got down to work, setting up the machine as Emma explained how Kit had gotten detained by a call from a client. Sadie wondered if maybe it was fate.

She and Emma worked through the quilt lesson step-by-step. Kit's suggestion to test the pattern was a good
one; they found several places to make the instructions clearer and were able to fix a measuring error.

Finally, Emma stood and stretched. “I should make my way home and care for my men.” She hugged Sadie.

“Thank you for everything.” Sadie was referring to more than the quilt block test.

Emma gave her a genuine smile. “You will do a brilliant job of teaching the quilters this week.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie noticed Deydie hanging posters along one wall. “What's that all about?”

Emma pretended not to notice. “I do have to go. Good luck.”

That sinking feeling came over Sadie. She could've just left, but something told her she'd better speak with Deydie first.

She walked across the room and saw that on each poster was a famous quilting instructor from the US. Sadie had seen many of them on TV or had bought a book they had written about a certain aspect of the craft.

“What's all this?” Sadie motioned to the six posters lined up.

“Och, I guess I forgot to tell ye.” Deydie nodded respectfully to the wall, as if the women themselves were in the room. “These are the students that ye'll be teaching next week.”

*   *   *

Ross went below deck to his cabin to get his rain gear. On his bunk lay the blank piece of paper on which he'd tried to make a list of future careers that would fit him. His mind, though, couldn't focus on anything but Sadie. Then or now.

He snatched up his gear to go back outside. It would
serve him right to catch his death of cold. He was such a louse. A coward. Of course he'd left for Sadie's sake; she deserved more than to be his rebound fling. But she also deserved a man who wouldn't run out on her and not say good-bye. It was just that he didn't think he could do it. He would've taken one look at her sweet, beautiful face and been unable to leave.

That was one thing that bugged him about Sadie—she was always calling herself plain. When he'd first met her, he'd thought her pleasant-looking, but not necessarily a beauty. But he must've not been looking closely. If Sadie was plain, then so was the first flower in spring. Or the sunset over the ocean. Or a rainbow after a storm. And when he'd first seen her at the pub, he'd thought she was too young for him. But now she seemed perfect.

He hadn't left Gandiegow because he didn't want Sadie to be his rebound; he'd left because she was so much more than that. But he needed to pull his head out of the clouds. He wasn't ready to settle down, yet he couldn't treat Sadie like a fling, either. Being so attached to the lass would mean trouble for the both of them.

He tossed his pillow against the wall. “Why couldn't she have shown up five years from now?”

Ross pulled his rain jacket from his duffel and slipped it on. The job on the
Betsy Lane
's crew had come along at just the right time. It put distance between him and Sadie, and that's what he needed to get his head screwed on straight. And they were scheduled for an offload right before the wedding, which was perfect. He would make it in time for Moira and Andrew's big day . . . and Sadie would be gone.

S
adie glanced at the six famous quilters talking among themselves near the back of Quilting Central. She leaned against one of the longarm quilting machines for support. She hadn't slept a wink last night. She was such a nervous wreck that she didn't have the wherewithal to worry over Ross . . . not too much anyway. She took a steadying breath. “Tell me again why these quilters are here.”

Deydie cackled. “Ye're whiter than the muslin on that Four Crowns quilt I just took off the quilting machine for Kirsty. I think she means to give it to yere brother.”

“The famous quilters?” Sadie reminded her. “Why?”

“They wanted their own retreat here in Scotland, and Caitie set them up.” The old woman patted her back, more gently than she'd ever done before. “I told them ye were new to teaching, so don't be nervous. Besides, ye only have to teach two hours in the mornings. Three days of that ain't going to kill anyone.”

It might.
Sadie looked down at her hands. They were shaking.

“What makes you think I can teach them anything?”

And why didn't I go home when I had the chance?
Maybe if Sadie closed her eyes, she'd disappear like Ross had. It would serve Deydie right for putting Sadie on the tracks and sending the quilting train to barrel over her.

Life in Gandiegow, as far as she was concerned, was a complete disaster.

Except she enjoyed reading to Dand and Mattie. Getting to know Moira, Emma, and Kit. And setting up the library. But she certainly didn't enjoy how miserable she felt about Ross being gone.

Oliver and Kirsty came through the door.

Sadie rolled her eyes. “Great. An audience.”

“He's here to fix Caitie's computer.”

“And judge me,” Sadie added.

“Nay. He's here for moral support.” Bethia handed over a steaming mug of tea. “Take a sip and then we'll get started.”

None of this made sense. Sadie looked to heaven and shook her head, not sure what the Big Guy was thinking on this one. She headed up on the stage.

Bethia guided the six women to the front table. Sadie expected them to look judgmental and critique her every move, but instead they only welcomed her with warm smiles. She should've known. Quilters were the best people in the world as far as she was concerned—more giving than any other group.

But when Sadie opened her mouth to introduce herself, nothing intelligible came out. “Well, um . . . ah—”

“Get on with it, lass,” Deydie hollered. “These ladies don't understand gibberish.”

Sadie reddened. “Sorry. I'm Sadie Middleton.”

“She and her gran won the quilt block challenge,” Deydie said.

They nodded at her kindly, and Sadie suddenly felt brave. She stepped off the stage and stood in front of the tables, holding her head high as if she was the equal of these mega quilting stars. She held up her winning quilt block. “My grandmother, Gigi, and I designed this quilt block because we've always loved thistles.” She described how they'd worked on the block together and sent it in, hoping and praying to win the challenge. Then she had to tell the rest: how they'd won, but that Gigi had sadly passed away before finding out.

“Come sit with us.” Dorothy Webb Parker patted the seat beside her. “Deydie told us about your grandmother. We're so sorry for your loss.”

Each one of them gave Sadie her condolences. And this time, she wasn't angry with Deydie for sharing the news about Gigi. Because sharing the loss felt as though she was being lifted up by the community, instead of the grief weighing her down.

Dorothy examined the winning quilt block. “How did you approach the appliqué?”

Sadie answered her, and then the next question. Two hours flew by, and she found that she liked teaching, because while she was teaching, she also learned a lot. She learned she could get up and speak in front of others and be heard. And she learned that she liked helping people. Although these women knew so much more about quilting than she ever would, they hadn't known Gigi's secret to appliquéing.

When her time was up, Sadie gathered her bag with
three thrillers to take to Mr. Menzies's house. After reading to him, she had an appointment with Mattie and Dand.

Deydie stopped her at the door. “I'll expect ye back here this evening.”

“Why?” Surely the old quilter didn't have another class lined up for her.

“Since ye missed yere retreat last week—with all the gallivanting ye did with Ross—ye're going to have to do some sewing. And it's time for ye to deal with yere box.” Deydie pointed to the parcel that now sat on a small table next to Deydie's desk. “I'll be right there with ye when ye go through it.”

But Sadie had faced enough challenges for one day and was going to put her foot down. “I don't want to—”

“Yere gran would want ye to get back on the horse. Let me hold the reins and help boost you up. It'll just be a few of us here. Think of us as yere quilting family.” Deydie cocked her head and grinned. “Besides, ye're going to do it whether ye want to or not. Ye might as well pretend that ye have a say in it and agree now while ye have a chance.”

Sadie sighed heavily. “Fine.”

Deydie handed her a plastic container. “Moira has been cutting background fabric for ye this last week.”

Sadie felt a squeeze in her heart. “With all she has to do to get ready for the wedding?”

“Aye. We want ye to get past yere grief.”

She turned her head away, and saw Oliver watching her. The worry lines that had appeared between his brows ever since her diagnosis seemed to have faded. From this distance, he didn't look like the overbearing
brother that she knew; he seemed more concerned and sympathetic. Or perhaps it was her perspective that had changed.

“I'll get past my grief,” Sadie said, reassuring Deydie. Or possibly reassuring herself. She walked over to Moira, lifting the container up. “Thank you so much. Can I take you to lunch to repay you?”

“Nay.” Moira smiled shyly. “But we can go to lunch to have a nice chat.”

“Perfect.”

Sadie left her background fabric in one of the cubbies and walked with Moira to the restaurant. After lunch, she read to Mr. Menzies, who was a delight because of his enthusiasm. Then she had to rush back across town to make her date with the two boys.

Though she was busy every minute, whenever she walked from one end of town to the other, her gaze would wander out to the sea, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ross. But his leaving was a clear message . . . Sadie needed to let go of an impossible dream.

At seven o'clock, she arrived back at Quilting Central. As Deydie promised, there was only a small crew of quilters there: Bethia, Moira, and Cait. The retreat goers were apparently whooping it up at the pub under Kit's supervision. Yes, having fewer people at Quilting Central was less stressful, but to work on a memory quilt that would commemorate Gigi's life? Sadie wanted to make a run for it back to the quilting dorm.

True to her word, Deydie stood right beside her as they went through Gigi's fabric and decided which pieces should go into the quilt, and then Sadie found herself sitting behind the sewing machine. She picked up the
first pieces of the block—and a rush of emotion hit her. Gigi had always insisted a Jacob's Ladder block should go into every Sampler, saying it anchored the quilt. Sadie wiped a tear from her cheek and sewed the first seam.

Bethia glanced over at her worriedly. “Are ye okay? Can I get ye something?”

“Nay. Leave her be,” Deydie said. “She'll have to shed a few tears, but by the end, she'll be fine. Quilting has healing powers.”

Funny, but it seemed like something Gigi might say. Sadie knew there'd be more tears, but she was starting to feel as if she might be all right—not today, or even tomorrow, but somewhere in the future. She picked up two more pieces and stitched them together.

After two hours, Deydie stood and declared it was time to shut down for the night.

“I'll need to wrestle those women out of the pub, I'm afraid.” She shook her head and the bun at the back of her neck came down. As she put the pins back in it, she spoke to Sadie. “Ye did good work today. I do believe the quilting has taken root in ye again. That's good.”

Sadie looked at the two blocks she'd completed for the Sampler. “You might be right.”

“Of course I'm right. I always am about such things.” Deydie patted her and walked away.

The others told Sadie good night and she walked back to the quilting dorm alone. Once again, Ross crossed her mind, leaving her to wonder if he was thinking of her, too. But she knew the answer. He didn't have feelings for her like she did for him. Maybe when she got her shot on Wednesday from Doc, she should ask if he had anything
for lovesickness. Or pills to make her forget what it was like to be in Ross's arms and be well kissed.

She let herself into the empty dorm; the famous quilters were staying in the quilt dorm next door, Duncan's Den. Oliver had moved to the room over the pub. Sadie went to her room and dressed for bed.

Today was Monday. She was heading home on Friday. Back to her life in North Carolina. She wanted to be over Ross by then; she had to be.

For the next two days, she woke up and did it all again. She said good-bye to the retreat ladies on Wednesday evening and on Thursday morning sewed with the Gandiegow quilters. In the afternoon, with a heavy heart, she went in search of Oliver, to make sure all was set for them to go home the next day.

*   *   *

Oliver didn't want to go anywhere. He looked down at Kirsty as she cuddled into him on the sofa. Her little studio apartment, set at the back of the school, was the perfect space. She said it had once been a storage room, but the town had turned it into a flat before she'd taken the job as their new teacher.

There was a light tap at the door.

Kirsty jumped and he stilled her.

“It's okay. We're not doing anything.” Now, if Deydie or one of the other quilting ladies had stopped by two hours ago . . . that would've been a different story. “Do you want me to answer it?”

Kirsty pulled away. “Nay. I've got it.” She took the few steps across the room and opened the door.

Sadie stood on the other side. “Hi.”

“Come on in.” Kirsty stood back and let her pass through.

“Can I speak with you a moment, Oliver?” His sister looked miserable. Even more so than when they'd arrived. Coming to Scotland hadn't helped her a bit. It had only made her worse.

Kirsty grabbed her jacket from the hook by the door. “I was just going to run over to the restaurant and pick up some food. Sadie, will ye join us?” Oliver had installed a second hook for his jacket yesterday.

“Thank you, but no.” Sadie looked as if she'd lost weight. “I need to get packed for our trip home.”

Kirsty's face fell and Oliver felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. He was going home. He and Kirsty both kept forgetting that he was really leaving tomorrow. It felt like a bad dream. He'd only just found her, and he wanted to build a future with her. It was going to be hard to maintain a long distance relationship, but he had no choice. He had to get Sadie home and see her through her illness.

As soon as Kirsty was out the door, he turned back to his sister. “What's going on?”

“I just want to make sure everything is set for tomorrow. You said you were going to get us checked in.” She frowned at him. “Or did Deydie volunteer me to teach another quilt class?”

“No.” He wished she would. Then he could stay a while longer with Kirsty.

Sadie cleared her throat, but it wasn't to get his attention. Was she getting sick?

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked. Maybe he should ask Doc MacGregor to take a look at her.

“My throat's a little scratchy. I might be getting a little summer cold.”

Oliver pulled out his phone. “I'll call the doc and tell him you're on your way over.”

Sadie rolled her eyes. “Don't be ridiculous, Oliver.” She shivered.

“Come here and sit down.” Oliver held out the quilt that Kirsty had given to him this morning. She called it Four Crowns.

Sadie looked around, embarrassed.

“Just get warmed up a bit. We're not in North Carolina. Scotland is chillier than home.”

She sat down and pulled the quilt over her shoulders. “I know.” For a moment, she sat silently.

“It's going to be hard, going home, with Gigi not there.”

“I know. Nothing feels like it's ever going to be the same again.” That was a huge confession so he backpedaled. “But we're going to be okay. Do you hear me?”

She wrapped the quilt around her more tightly. “I need to tell you something. And you're not going to like it.”

Hadn't they all had enough bad news? He sighed heavily. It better not be about that
Ross Armstrong
. Oliver was glad he was gone, and good riddance. He was certain that Ross had taken advantage of Sadie, and Oliver hated him for it. His sister didn't deserve to be used.

“Go ahead and tell me,” he said.

“It's about Gigi.”

“What about Gigi?”

She sat there so quietly, it reminded him of when their parents had died. She hadn't cried. She just sat there
looking blank. And the only thing he could do for her then was to read to her. Like their parents had done for them every night. It took a long time, but finally she started to laugh again. Live again. He wanted that for her now . . . but he didn't think that reading to her this time would work.

They weren't a huggy-type family, but he wanted to reach out to her now. “Go on. What is it?”

“I wasn't sure how to tell you before, but you have a right to know. I may be somewhat responsible for Gigi's death.” She told him about her application to grad school.