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

trust was her gran. She wouldn’t put it past Deydie to chuck her very expensive machine in the sea as soon as Cait was gone.
    Cait hurried up and slipped into her parka, not wanting to be the last one out, left alone with Granzilla. She said goodbye to them all, including Deydie, who only snorted and rolled her eyes. Cait opened the door, fled the warmth of the cottage, and got the hell out of there.
    * * *
    Deydie watched her quilting ladies go and shut the door behind them. That all-too-familiar lonely feeling hit her right in the chest. She’d lived alone a long time but had never gotten used to the long nights. Blast Hamish McCracken! He’d taught her to love and then got swallowed up by the sea, leaving her to single-handedly raise their little daughter, hardheaded Nora. But then Nora had left her eighteen years ago, and the loneliness had become unbearable, a constant thorn pricking her heart—morning, noon, and night. Deydie needed her quilting ladies like she needed fresh water. Of course, she’d never let them know that. The minute you admit out loud you need someone, that’s when they up and disappear at sea or die of some hellish disease. No, they were better off thinking she didn’t need the lot of ’em, not one tiny bit. And she didn’t. Not really. Not much. After all, she had her fire to keep her warm.
    She shivered and shuffled around the table, righting it for the morning. But stopped.
    Caitie, the little devil, had left her fancy sewing machine.
    Deydie slowly made her way over to it, planning to set the blasted thing in the corner, or even better, outside in the snow—anywhere out of sight would do. But as she stood over the machine, she noticed that Caitie had left her work. Deydie grabbed the potholder to get a better look.
    It was exquisite, the postage-stamp-sized pieces in a Colorwash pattern that took her old breath away. Nora’s fine, detailed craftsmanship had been passed down to her daughter. A bud of pride welled up, and try as she might, Deydie couldn’t squash it down.
    She gently set the little masterpiece back where Caitie had left it and decided not to toss the extravagant machine in the corner after all. She left it on the table.
    But she couldn’t look at it all night either, so she grabbed a clean dish towel and threw it over the confounded machine. When Deydie crawled into bed, snuggled under the stack of quilts, and switched off the light, the moon shone through the window. Its rays lit up Caitie’s covered sewing machine and the strangest thing happened.
    Deydie didn’t feel quite as lonely as before.

Chapter Five
    O n the way home from Deydie’s, within a few yards of the pub, Cait heard footsteps running behind her. She whirled around and found Graham, winded.
    â€œWhy the hurry?” she asked.
    â€œIt’s Precious.” Worry lines etched Graham’s forehead. “I’ve got to find Doc.”
    Her heart went out to him. “What can I do to help?”
    â€œCome with me,” he said.
    They rushed into the pub together and found Doc waiting on his drink. He wore the same square spectacles Cait remembered, but the years had turned his hair shock white.
    Graham grabbed Doc by the arm. “Precious is sick,” he said, his Scottish burr thick with panic.
    Doc laid a bill on the bar and grabbed his ever-present medical bag from the seat next to him. The three of them were off, the snow crunching under their boots as they rushed back through town and up the bluff.
    â€œShe wouldn’t eat breakfast,” Graham said. “And I couldn’t get her to drink anything all day. She just lies there. No matter how much I coax.”
    â€œThis happens with old dogs,” Doc soothed, his voice as comforting as a quilt.
    Graham wasn’t consoled, though. “What can we do?”
    â€œLet me examine her first,” Doc said.
    They hurried into the mansion, Graham and Doc not even