Meet Me in Scotland (29 page)

“Fine.” What a grand day Emma was having. “Just give me a minute. I need to . . . I need to . . .”

Deydie eyed her closely, scanning her clothes. She opened her mouth to say something, then slammed it shut, her lips forming a needle-straight line. Emma cringed. Deydie had figured it out—
the lass stayed out all night
was written all over her face. Same clothes as yesterday might've worked if Emma were a pauper, but didn't sit well on a girl from London who owned a massive wardrobe and had brought quite a selection with her.

Deydie harrumphed. “Well, I hope at least ye and the doctor had the good sense to do something to keep ye
from gettin' in the family way.” She frowned at her. “Don't look at me like that. I've got eyes.”

A terrible dread came over Emma as she remembered the second time they'd made love, backed up against the door. When she hadn't cared if he used a condom or not. She'd wanted what she wanted, and he'd given it to her.

She turned to Deydie, feeling the blood drain from her face. She worried she might throw up again. She started to warn Deydie to step out of the way, knowing there wasn't time to make it to the bathroom again. But instead, a great freight train roared through Emma's head and the light around Deydie seemed to squeeze in. Then the old woman seemed so very far away.

Emma's last thought was to wonder why everything had gone black.

“T
here, there. That's a lass,” Deydie said.

Emma came to, lying flat on the double bed, with the old woman patting her hand. “What happened?”

“You keeled over.” Deydie had a worried frown on her face. “I'm going to get the doc.”

Emma grabbed her arm. “No!” She composed herself, then schooled her voice. “Please, don't. I'm fine, really. I just need some tea. I might have a touch of the flu.”
Still lying
. She needed to get to Inverness and buy a pregnancy test. No way would she buy one here at the store—before she'd have time to pee on the stick, the news would get to Gabriel and have him knocking down her door, demanding answers. Something she couldn't handle right now. “No,” Emma said one more time, imploring Deydie with her eyes.

“Verra well, then.” Deydie helped her into a sitting position. “I'll make yere tea.” As she waddled out of the bedroom, she grumbled, “Never imagined I'd have to stock the dorm with smelling salts. Better pick some up at the store.”

Emma was in shock—emotionally and possibly physically, too. She pulled the vintage Sampler quilt with the calming colors from the bed and wrapped it around her,
mentally counting the days since her last period. She was due for it today. Or was it yesterday.
Bloody hell.
Could it really be true? She held her wrist to her forehead. Maybe she really did have the flu. Was it safe for her to drive to Inverness? What if she passed out again?

Emma wandered into the living room and sat on the sofa, dragging the quilt with her. The same questions swirled again and again in her mind until Deydie brought in a tray.

“I'll be back in a bit to check on you,” Deydie said. “Don't go anywhere.”

Emma sipped her tea and ate the biscuits on the tray. Maybe her blood sugar had dropped. That had to be it.

Ten minutes later, Deydie was back. She dropped a sack in Emma's lap. “Git off to the loo with that.”

Deydie didn't stop to explain, only hurried off to the kitchen, giving Emma some privacy. She pulled open the bag, peeked inside, and pulled out the box.

KNOW NOW PREGNANCY TEST—EARLY D
ETECTION.
A yellow smiley face was plastered next to the logo.

Emma stared at the box for a long moment.

Deydie hollered from the kitchen. “There's no time like the present, lass.”

Emma pushed herself up and trudged off to the bathroom. If she thought Deydie would leave her alone for two seconds, she was wrong.

“Well?” the old woman said outside the door. “Are ye or aren't ye?”

“I can't go if you're talking. Please go away.” Emma tried to imagine that she was alone, but it was hard to do with Deydie still issuing orders.

“Run the water,” Deydie said. “That should get things flowing.”

Emma closed her eyes and it finally worked. While
she waited for the results, she splashed water on her face, trying to calm down.

Deydie banged on the door. “Have ye gone yet?”

Emma looked at the stick; a plus sign had appeared and stared back at her with stark finality. “Oh, God.” She collapsed on the toilet seat.

Deydie tapped lightly on the door. “Let me in, lass.”

Emma reached over and turned the knob. Deydie bustled in and came to her side.

“Come on. It's going to be all right. We're all here to help ye.” Her old voice was kind and reassuring. “We're going to Quilting Central. Ye're going to work on the Gandiegow Doctor quilt and put that tag on. That'll take yere mind off it. For now.” She took Emma's elbow and helped her to stand, as if she were the geriatric in need of assistance.

“I think I'll just lie down.”
Forever
.

“No,” Deydie said. “Ye need to be with people.”

Panic hit Emma. “You can't tell anyone!”

“Don't ye worry.” Deydie grabbed Emma's coat and held it out for her.

“You have to promise. Not a soul. Do you hear?”

Deydie fixed her collar for her. “Don't worry, lass. Not a word. Now, come. We'll get you squared away.”

*   *   *

Claire carefully sliced the tomatoes, knowing all the fire had burned out of her. She should be spitting mad at Emma right now, but she only felt confused. A terrible realization hit her like a rogue wave: She wasn't even close to being as tough as she thought she was. All these years, it was Emma and their friendship that had empowered Claire to be strong, gave her the courage to go out and conquer the world. Emma, who had picked her up as a wee, sad girl and been there for her after her da
had died. Emma, the straight arrow. Emma, the one constant in her life.

Claire blinked back tears.

“Are you all right?” Dominic stood farther down the counter, cutting onions. The irony wasn't lost on her.

She couldn't answer him and not blubber, so she nodded instead. What could she tell him, anyway? That she'd lost everything. First him and now Emma.

Dominic wiped his hands on his apron and came to stand beside her. He took a washed green pepper and began coring it. “Are you as mad at them for meddling in our marriage as I am?”

Where did that come from?
“I don't know. I guess. It would've been nice, though, if Emma had stood behind me and taken my side.”

“Tell me about it,” Dom laughed derisively. “Gabe is the one who always says that men have to stick together. Instead, I feel like he took my best butcher knife and stabbed me in the back.”

“By taking my side of things?” Claire stated matter-of-factly, with no accusation.

“You know what I mean.”

“Aye.” She smiled at the tomatoes. “
Bros before hoes
.”

“Clairrrre,” he chided.

She looked up at him, and their eyes locked. Claire's heart jolted. It was as if they were seeing each other for the first time. But more powerful, because it felt like old times, too—working side by side in the kitchen, with comfortable conversation between them.

Dominic gave her a long, easy smile, and she knew without a doubt he felt it, too.
Their connection
. Happiness sizzled through Claire. It had always been like this with him. Dominic was the yeast in her dough. The clotted cream on her scones. The absolute love of
her life. For the first time in a long time, she felt like they were working from the same recipe in the same cookbook.

Dominic finished with the green peppers and scooped up the onions, tossing them in the sauté pan. He spoke above the sizzle and pop of the vegetables. “How are those tomatoes? I was a little worried they weren't ripe enough.”

She cut off a chunk and walked over to him. “Open.” He had his hands busy with the sauce.

He did as he was told and she fed him the piece of the tomato, a well-rehearsed dance that had played out a thousand times between them in the kitchen. And like before all the trouble between them, his eyes dilated, then hooded. Her Italian Stallion was back and had sex on his mind. She was thrilled to see he still cared for her, but she couldn't just gloss over what she'd done to him. She squeezed his arm and stepped away with a we-need-to-talk-first smile.

“Ah, Claire . . .”

She held up her hands. “Dominic, I've been a rotten person.”

He put down the spatula and turned off the stove, giving her his full attention. “Go on.”

She'd hoped he would've denied it, but they both knew it was true. “I've put you through the grater over wanting a baby.”

She grabbed the next tomato and began slicing; it was easier to talk if her hands were busy. “I know ye're angry that Emma and Gabe got involved in our marriage. I am, too, but I'm also grateful. It was Emma who helped me to see what was really going on.”

“And that is?”

“Ye're going to think this is a wee bit crazy.”

“I'm listening.” He waited patiently for her to continue.

“Dominic, ye're the same age as my father when he died.”

“What?”

“I told you it was crazy.”

“I'm fine, Claire. Healthy as a horse.” He stepped back with his arms out as proof. “God willing, nothing will happen to me for a long, long time.”

“I know.” She shrugged. “It must've been coming home to Gandiegow that stirred up the old feelings. Mama used to say how lucky she was to have me to remember my da by. Don't you see? I don't have anything to remember you by if something should happen, except maybe your recipes and kitchen knives.” She glanced over at the knives, and shame filled her. She'd thrown pots at her husband's head and crotch and had even waved a knife around like a lunatic.

“Yeah,” he said, frowning. He must've been remembering, too.

“I'm so sorry. You did nothing to deserve it. I promise to work at keeping my fear at bay about losing you. I don't want to live without you, like my mother had to live without the love of her life.” She looked up at him, desperately wanting him to forgive her.

“Claire.” Dominic came to her and wrapped her in his arms. “This has been my fault, too. It wasn't just the money, you know. Even though our finances have been bad enough to scare my sperm.” He laughed into her hair at his own joke. “I've had my own fears haunting me. I grew up without a father. What do I know about being a papa?”

She pulled away from him. “But ye're amazing with kids. I've seen you. The whole town thinks ye're a miracle worker.”

He laid her head back on his shoulder. “I'm feeling more confident now.”

“You know, Father Andrew told me to trust that everything will work out.” Being in her husband's arms was a good start, the rightest thing in the whole world.

“Something else,” Dom said, kissing her temple. “About the finances . . . I've figured out a few things, too.”

“How to get more customers?”

Porco took that moment to make an irreverent snort from the corner.

Claire leaned back and looked into Dominic's eyes. “Ye're not fooling anyone when it comes to that pig. We all know his only job is to be our garbage disposal.”

“Yeah, I'm pretty attached to him. Maybe he can be used as a stud at the farm where I got him,” Dominic offered.

“We'll see. First, tell me what you figured out about the finances. You know I understand as well as you do about how tight things are.”

“I know my wife has good business sense.”

“I've just been an emotional mess.”

“We'll work together to help you through this. It has to be hard. I still miss my madre just like you miss your father. But, Claire, what I'm finally starting to understand is that we're not in Edinburgh or Glasgow.”

She squeezed him. “Duh.”

He tweaked her nose affectionately. “We're in Gandiegow. Look around at the people here. They have children and don't have tons of money.”

Claire thought of Amy and Coll's little one-room cabin. “Aye. Everyone makes do.”

Dom continued on. “The cost of living is incredibly low here. I think we could do it. I think we could have a bambino and make it work. Right now.”

“Maybe,” she hedged. “I'm not sure I'm ready. Amy's
little hellion has shown me I have a lot to learn about bairns before we go down that path.”

Dominic looked at her earnestly. “I don't want to wait too long. I love you, Claire. I can just imagine my baby in you.”

“And my breasts getting as big as watermelons?”

He peeked down at her cleavage. “That, too.” He turned serious. “How about in a year? Do you think that would give you enough time? I don't want to wait any longer than that.”

“Maybe two. I can train Moira and have her get up early with the scones. You and I both know—”

“The scones wait for no one,” they both said together.

Dominic smiled at her tenderly. “I love you, Claire.”

“I love you, too, Dominic.”

Then their lips met, and Claire's world tilted back into place. She was finally home.

Just as she was being swept up in the magic that was
them
, a worry pulled her away.

“What, my
dolce
?” Dominic caressed her back. “What's wrong?”

She laid a hand on his chest and looked him in the eyes. “What are we going to do about Emma and Gabriel?”

*   *   *

For Christmas Eve, Quilting Central was surprisingly packed. Emma had assumed that everyone would be home with their families, but women filled almost every work space, furiously putting together last-minute projects or wrapping presents. Deydie brought over the Gandiegow Doctor quilt and the embroidered tag, laying them next to Emma on the overstuffed sofa in front of the hearth.

“Just turn under the edges on the tag and hand-stitch it in place,” the old woman said.

Emma flipped it over and read:

To Gandiegow's Doctor

Gabriel MacGregor

Pieced & quilted by Emma Castle

Stunned, she looked up at Deydie. “My name is on his quilt?”

“Ye're the one who did all the work. Now get to stitching.”

While Emma sewed, she kept her eye on the door, but neither Claire, Dominic, or Gabriel appeared. When Emma was done with the tag, Deydie shoved a box and some Christmas paper onto her lap and made her wrap the package, as well.

Never more than a few feet away, Deydie stood near Emma all day, shoving crackers and tea at her, making sure she was comfortable and cared for. Throughout the day, she kept an endless stream of tasks in front of her, too. When she wasn't fussing over her and working her half to death, Deydie was using her rotary blade to cut out fabric. If anyone stopped by for
a chat
with Emma, Deydie shooed them off.

“Emma's not working today,” Deydie said to them. “It's Christmas Eve. Yere problems will have to wait until after Hogmanay. She's taking some time off for the holidays.”