Meet Me in Scotland (30 page)

Deydie the receptionist.
“Not working?” Emma gestured to the projects laid before her. A stash of fat quarters to sort, a box filled with patterns to organize, and thread to arrange by style and color.
Not working, indeed.

And why would Deydie assume Emma would be in Gandiegow after the New Year?

After the building cleared out and the quilters went home to their families, Deydie plopped a quilting magazine and a shoe box in front of Emma. A big red bow had been taped to the top.

“What's this?” Emma asked.

“A Christmas present from me,” Deydie said.

Emma stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Come on, lass, we're going to miss church if you don't get on with it.” Deydie took the lid off the box for her. Inside were pieces of pastel cotton fabric—blue, green, pink, yellow, and white—cut into perfect squares and triangles.

Deydie flipped open the magazine to a page marked with a Post-it note. “I thought you could make this for yere next project.”

It was a baby quilt made of stars, triangles, and squares. But in the center, there was a quarter-moon with its own special star.

Deydie tapped the middle of the quilt picture. “I'll show ye how to applique that part.”

Emma burst into tears.

Deydie sat next to her and took her hand. “Now, now, don't be sad. Working on a quilt will help you accept the miracle ye've been given. It's what I did when I found out I was to have Nora. It's what we all do here in Gandiegow. It'll all work out for you. I promise. My Nora was my greatest blessing. She could be a handful, but she was my shining star.” Deydie seemed far away for a second, but she snapped back quickly to the here and now.

“I'm not sad,” Emma said. And she wasn't. “I'm just grateful. Thank you for being so kind to me.”

“'Tis nothing,” Deydie gruffed. “Come on, now. Get back to the dorm and get ready for church. Put on your best dress. Ye'll sit with me and my ladies.”

Emma wiped her tears and stood, feeling stronger. “I'll be there.”

Deydie shoved a sandwich at her before she left. “Make sure you eat this right away. We don't want a repeat of earlier and have you swooning in front of the whole congregation. Now, do we?”

“Good point.” Emma took a bite and headed to the dorm. Even though she was worried about what she was going to tell Gabriel, her bigger worry was Claire.

Poor Claire.
Emma being pregnant would be the biggest betrayal of all.

A
t the quilting dorm, Emma sighed heavily as she pulled on her jumper dress, the color of evergreens, the one that matched her eyes. She wondered what color eyes the baby would have.

The baby.

A baby was the only thing that Claire had wanted. And Emma was the one who was going to get one. She didn't know how her friend would bear it. This might be the final blow that would end their friendship. Emma sighed again.

But her insides glowed.
I'm pregnant.
Even though everything had gone wrong with Gabriel, she found herself overjoyed. She would have this baby. That was the only thing in the world she knew for sure. Except that she was going to church right now. What she did tomorrow would be anyone's guess.

When she arrived at the white-steepled building, she hurried inside, keeping her head down. She couldn't face Gabriel right now, or Claire, for that matter. Not yet. She zipped through the narthex and went into the nave, searching for Deydie's pew with the quilting ladies. Bethia was already seated, and Emma joined her.

“Are you feeling all right, lassie?” Bethia's old eyes looked concerned.

“Yes.” What could Emma say? Gabriel had impregnated her and Claire would never speak to her again?

While the organist played quiet Christmas tunes, more people filed in. Mattie came down the aisle, followed by Cait and her famous husband, Graham Buchanan. Mattie and Cait waved to her and it eased Emma's anxiety a little. Only a very little. She waved back, then closed her eyes, willing the music to relax her.

Deydie squeezed in beside Emma, leaning over to whisper, “Keep the faith. Ye're doing fine.”

Suddenly the music shifted to “O Come, All Ye Faithful” and the congregation stood. It took everything in Emma not to turn around and watch as Gabriel processed in with the choir. Instead, she stuck her nose in the hymnal and sang along, doing well for the first verse. But as he passed by their pew, her head came up automatically. Unlike before, he didn't search her out and nod. He seemed to have locked his head in the straight-ahead position. Whatever she'd been hoping for from him wasn't going to happen, and her stomach dropped. Even more upsetting, now that she'd seen him, she couldn't look away.

Deydie tapped a gnarled finger on Emma's hymnal to draw her attention back to where it should be. Emma tuned into the service as best as she could, and was surprised when it calmed her. Father Andrew spoke about how the baby Jesus had been a blessing to the world and observed that all children were a blessing and the best hope for the future. Emma put a hand on her stomach, warmed by his words, as if they had been delivered just for her.

She turned around and saw Claire sitting three rows
back with Dominic beside her. Why were they keeping up the ruse that they were back together?

Out of the blue, a clear-cut decision came to Emma. Right after church, no matter what, she would seek out Claire and tell her about the baby. No more secrets, no more lies. She'd be honest with Claire, put it all out there. If their long-standing friendship was over, at least Emma would have been honest with her in the end.
And Gabriel?
He needed to know, too. Maybe she'd write him a note and slip it under his door. If she told him in person, he'd probably propose on the spot; that Scottish warrior was such a gentleman. But a child was a poor excuse to be together. She couldn't bear for him to be with her out of obligation.

At that moment, Father Andrew motioned to the table off to the side. “We have a special treat this evening. The choir has decided to surprise us with ‘The Holly and the Ivy' on the bells.”

Gabriel stood and his eyes fell on Emma. He looked so vulnerable that she wanted to go to him. However, before she could blink, a dark mask fell over his face and only disappointment remained.

Tears sprang to Emma's eyes and fell down her cheeks. Deydie dug around in her pocket and pulled out a clean hankie, shoving it in Emma's hand.

On the other side of her, Bethia patted her arm. Alarm rang throughout Emma—Deydie hadn't kept her mouth shut.

But then Bethia leaned over and whispered, “The bells always make me cry, too. They remind me of my daughter, Ciara.”

The music was beautiful. Emma didn't punish herself further by watching Gabriel, but kept her eyes in her lap. She loved him, and it hurt so much. They'd probably never be together because of her lies. At least she'd have his baby to remember him by. Just like Claire's mother.

But she couldn't stay in Gandiegow another day knowing Gabriel couldn't stand the sight of her. It was more than she could handle. As soon as she got back to the dorm, she'd call a taxi and head to London. For good.

The song ended, and Emma could finally breathe. Father Andrew announced the closing hymn, and the congregation rose and sang. When the service was over, Emma had every intention of sprinting for the door. She did fine hurrying up the aisle, but just as she made it to the narthex, her arm was snagged and she was pulled to a stop.

It was Claire.

“Not so fast, my friend.” Surprisingly, she had a pleasant smile on her face. And she'd called her
friend
.

“Claire, I—” Emma started.

Claire pulled her into a fierce hug. “I love you. I'll never let you out of my life. Never.”

Tears welled up in Emma again.
Seriously, how many times can a person cry in one day?
She pulled Claire to the side to let others pass by. “I need to explain. It's a long story. It's about my mother.” Emma told her everything. “I never meant for it to go on forever. I'm so terribly, terribly sorry.”

Claire hugged her again. “No worries. It's all washed out to sea. We need not speak of it again.”

Emma loved Claire so much and was so lucky to have her. But she would have to test their friendship further. Now was better than later. “There's one more thing you need to know.”

D
ominic joined them, practically pushing Gabriel on Emma. “I got him, Claire, before he slipped away.”

Gabriel had on his choir robe and a grim expression. He looked heavenly to Emma, though, making her heart pound. At the same time, she was sad she'd made a mess of things with him.

Dominic pointed at her. “I like to think that you're the less pigheaded of the two of you. I need you to work things out with him. He's miserable without you. Which makes
me
miserable.”

Claire nudged Emma closer to Gabriel, too. “Fix it now. If you don't talk, we'll be forced to lock you in a broom closet next.”

“So, it
was
you two.” Gabriel gave them a disapproving look.

“Aye.” Claire went to stand by Dominic, intertwining her hand with his. The Russos beamed at each other.

“Oh, Claire.” Emma was the one to hug her friend fiercely this time. “I'm so happy for you.”

“Happy for what?” Gabriel asked.

“They're back together,” Emma said.

Gabriel turned to Dominic. “For real?”

Dominic nodded. “For real. Now you two talk. Claire and I need to speak with Father Andrew, but we'll be watching you.”

Claire smiled and flipped her hair. “We're going to set a date to renew our vows.” She elbowed Emma teasingly. “Maybe make it a double ceremony with you two?”

Emma rolled her eyes as the Russos walked away, leaving her alone with Gabriel. She turned to him. “What should we talk about?” She wasn't ready to tell him about the pregnancy here in front of God and everyone. Claire had to find out first. Besides, Emma was still getting used to the idea herself. A nice text message to Gabriel after she got back to London might be the ticket.

Gabriel looked at her sideways. “Are you feeling well?”

She deflected. “The service was lovely.”

“Aye, religion is always a safe subject. We'll talk about politics next.”

“I mean, it was pretty. The religious rituals are nice. I think everyone enjoyed them.”

His expression softened infinitesimally. “There's more to church than just enjoying the service. Do you really want to know my thoughts?”

“Yes.” She really did.

“I think church and the lessons we learn here are the best tools we can have in our toolbox. When life gets tough, we can pull out what we need to get us through our troubles.” He paused for a second, as if to reflect on his past and present problems. “But here's the deal about church, Emma.”

“Yes?” she encouraged.

He leaned in. “You come from a world where anyone in your social circle can get therapy. Am I right?”

She shrugged. “Sure. All of my parents' friends are either in therapy or used to be.”

“A lot of regular, everyday people don't have access to counseling, like the kind of help that you give people.” He said the last as if he was proud of her. “Most people only have the support of church and its community.”

“Oh.” She'd never thought about the accessibility of therapy before. No wonder her table at Quilting Central had been graced with so many Gandiegowans wanting to talk about their problems. Speaking with them had truly been Emma's honor. Although she might have helped them, it had also had been a blessing to her. It was rather nice to feel useful.

She gazed down at the floor and confessed, “I know what you mean. Since I've been here, church has been a real comfort for me.” She looked up at him. “It centers and calms me like nothing I've ever experienced.”

“Finally,
therapy for the therapist
.” He smiled. His warm eyes made her heart pirouette.

She still hadn't been completely honest with him. “Can we go sit? I need to talk to you.” She pointed to the empty church.

Gabriel nodded and followed her. Dominic and Claire did indeed keep an eye on them as they entered the sanctuary.

After she settled into a pew, she began, “I want to clear the air between us. I know I lied to you—”

He took her hand. “Nay.”

For a moment she stared down at their linked hands—such a simple act made her so happy. She pushed on with what had to be said. “I didn't lie directly, but I let you believe something that wasn't true; that's the same thing as lying, in my book. I have to tell you the truth now, though.” She told him about her mother and her desperation to keep her at bay, all the same things she'd finally confessed to Claire.

Gabriel squeezed her hand. “I understand, lass. I've seen yere mother on TV. I'm sure you had no choice.”

“But there's more,” she said. “I want you to know it all. I've never had a real relationship.”
Egghead Emma stepped out from the shadows and came into the light
. Emma could finally accept her true self. “The few times I had sex were with acquaintances. I didn't care about them—I just needed to find out what the fuss was all about. But it did nothing for me. After that, I gave up on sex completely. I decided it wasn't important.”

“And now?” he said.

“It is.”

“What changed your mind?” He gazed at her expectantly, like he hoped he knew the answer.

She got brave and squeezed his hand back. “You did.” She paused for a moment. “I finally figured out that the only sex worth having is with someone you really care about.”

“That's exactly what I came to realize, as well. I gave up on meaningless sex because it was just that—meaningless.”

She'd come this far and she decided to go the whole way. Spit it out. Put all her cards on the table. “I know now I never would've made love to you unless I truly, well, did love you.”

“Ah, lass.” He kissed her captured hands.

“Can you forgive me for being closed off, naive, and a liar?”

“Only if you can forgive me for not recognizing sooner how we were made for each other. I avoided you for years because you got to me like no other.
My Emma
never minced words.” He leaned over and kissed her tenderly.

His Emma.
She bunched his choir robe in her hands and held on tight. She never wanted to let him go.

He pulled away. “Don't cry, my luv.”

She swiped at her tears, smiling through them. “I'm not crying. I'm just leaking love.”

She took a deep breath. It was no good waiting to tell him about the baby. “Gabriel, I—”