Read Online To Scotland With Love by Patience Griffin - Free Book Online

him again. Gandiegow is a small village.”
    â€œWhat we want to know is—” Rhona struck her teacher’s pose. “What are your intentions toward Graham?”
    Bethia laid her hand on the table, kind of like a judge bringing down a gavel, soft but firm. “He’s a son of Gandiegow. No different than if he were me own. It’s our jobto keep a lookout for him. And Duncan and Mattie. That’s why Duncan had the MacKinnon name from the start and not Buchanan. To protect him—and now to protect Mattie. ’Twas Graham’s mother’s surname. We’ll not let any harm come to our own.”
    Deydie bore down on Cait like a freight train running over an injured dog. “We know ye’re a reporter. We’ll not be lettin’ you hurt Graham. Do you ken?”
    As if Cait had dunked her head into hot bubbling stew, heat flooded into her face.
Did they find out about
People
magazine and what’s written in my notebook?
    Amy’s voice was all sunshiny. “Don’t take it personally. They warned me, too, when Coll brought me to Gandiegow after we married. I can’t even tell my own auntie about Graham. Deydie threatened to beat me with a broom if I breathed a word to anyone. And, of course, if I didn’t treat Coll right.”
    â€œAnd I’d do it, too.” Deydie smiled at Amy.
    Something in Cait’s heart squished together. Deydie’s snaggle-toothed grin. When was the last time she’d seen her grandmother smile? Before Mama got sick? Anger surged up inside Cait. Why in the hell did Amy, a chirpy motormouth, deserve Deydie’s affection and Cait didn’t?
    Maybe she’d been too boneless to stand up to Tom and come for a visit. But leaving Gandiegow hadn’t been Cait’s fault. Gran needed to get over it—quit blaming her and stop acting like Cait had had any say in the matter.
    Unlike now. Now it was her choice to write a piece on Graham. After the article came out, well, then she
would
be blameworthy—the village villain.
    The tarlike sticky feeling of guilt coated her insides.Deydie ought to save up her nastiness for later, when she would actually have good reason to dislike Cait.
    â€œAre you planning on coming to the pageant, Caitie?” Rhona asked, her tone a one-eighty from moments ago. “It’s next Wednesday night. The children are so excited.”
    The conversational shift threw her off-balance. But not as much as the flashback that came on its heels, hitting hard enough it would’ve knocked most women from their chairs.
    Her last Christmas in Gandiegow, she’d played Mary sitting in the manger with Donald Elliot as Joseph. She’d loved wearing the white cotton panel over her head and the blue robe. But that’s when Jesus had been her friend and she’d been honored to be his mother, if only for an hour. Cait shook off the feeling because it wasn’t true anymore.
    â€œCaitie?” Rhona said.
    â€œYes, Mrs. Lamont, I’ll be there.”
    â€œI told you to call me Rhona. Makes me feel decrepit when a grown woman calls me ‘Mrs.’”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    Thankfully, the conversation turned away from Cait and onto the gossip of the village. Amy gave a blow-by-blow account of everything she’d heard at the store and the pub. The rest of them commented on the comings and goings of Gandiegow. Relieved not to be asked more questions, Cait worked silently on her potholder.
    At five minutes to nine, the quilt ladies packed up their projects, their machines, and notions. As Cait did the same, Bethia came to stand by her.
    â€œLeave your machine on the table,” Bethia whispered. “It’ll do your gran some good.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œShe needs a part of you to stay here. That way she’ll know ye’ll be coming back.”
    Cait had always thought of Bethia as a wise woman and trusted her judgment. What she didn’t