Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
GAVIN
It’s obvious from watching the Winter family that they are close knit, and going caroling with them is further proof.
We start with Douglas, and the best bit is when he opens the door to a crowd of strangers who immediately begin to sing “Silent Night” and shift seamlessly into “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”
His face doesn’t hide his shock. The man doesn’t know what to do with himself.
He’s gracious with the group crowding on his porch and lets them finish their songs, which I didn’t fully expect. That’s a pleasant surprise.
“What’s this for then?” he asks, looking down at the plate Callie holds out toward him.
“For you, Douglas,” she says.
He frowns at the plate.
“Jam drops, caramels, and fudge,” Maeve says, picking up our name for her thumbprint cookies.
Douglas’s face softens as he accepts it. “That’s alright, then.”
“Merry Christmas,” Luna says.
Callie clears her throat. “Nollaig Chridheil, Douglas.”
His head snaps toward her, eyes bugging comically wide, which only stretches her grin more. He didn’t expect to hear the Californian speak Gaelic, and her pronunciation is fairly good. Even he can’t really find something to complain about. “Aye, that it is, lass.”
“Do you have dinner plans tomorrow, Douglas?” Maeve asks. She looks at me with a slight lift to her eyebrows, and I can read the question she’s silently sending me. I give her a nod. Douglas is always welcome in my house.
His eyes narrow. “Aye.”
What a load of blether. This man doesn’t have plans, I’m nearly certain of it.
“Well, if that changes, we’d love to have you join us,” Maeve says. “We have more than enough food, and you know Gavin’s table is plenty big.”
“Right you are there, hen,” Douglas says, laughing. He loses his suspicion at once and winks at Callie, who blushes happily.
When we pile back into the cars to head to Rhona’s house, I think Callie is floating.
Granny and Grandad meet us at Rhona’s house for the rest of the caroling. We gather in front of her porch in our coats, scarves, and hats. When Rhona opens the door, her dark, graying hair left in its natural curly state, she seems overwhelmed by the large group, but not unpleasantly so.
“This is a nice surprise,” she says, smiling kindly.
We immediately sing the songs we’ve practiced, and Violet steps forward with the plate of treats this time.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Rhona takes the plate with her good hand. Her other one is still in a brace, but she seems to be managing well.
“How are you feeling, Rhona?” Granny asks.
She sets the plate on a table inside, then lifts her braced wrist. “Been better. Rory thinks I should be fully functioning within the next five or six weeks. But Gavin has been immensely helpful with the farm while I’ve been trying to manage.”
“Of course he has,” Grandad says proudly.
“Do you have plans for Christmas dinner?” Maeve asks.
Rhona glances at me quickly before looking at her. “Just me and a game hen. It’ll do me all right, mind.”
“We have more food than we know what to do with. We’d love to have you join us, Rhona.”
How does Maeve feel so comfortable extending invitations to people she’s only just met, and calling them by name to do so? The woman is a force.
Rhona nods softly, her cheeks pinking. In all my years knowing Rhona, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her blush.
“We’ll leave you to it, then. Merry Christmas, Rhona,” I say, taking Callie’s hand and tugging her lightly. I lean down toward her ear as we walk to the car. “Is your mum planning on inviting the entire village to eat with us?”
“Probably just the ones we give plates to, so choose wisely.”
I wasn’t sure I could love this family more, but I think I do.
Rory isn’t home when we knock on his door, so we travel to his parents’ house and find him there.
I’m glad for it, though, because it means I can help Callie mark another thing from her bucket list. The Stewarts are like a second—third, I suppose, after my grandparents—set of parents to me, and they run a sheep farm.
They won’t mind us walking around to the back garden for a minute once we’re through singing.
After we finish the songs we’ve planned, Violet starts us on a round of impromptu “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”
“That was lovely, hen,” Elsie says, crouching with her hands on her knees to look at Violet. “You have a nice singing voice and a beautiful family.”
Violet bashfully hides in her dad’s legs. “We have a plate of sweets for you.”
“Do you really? How very kind.”
“Can I give it to her, Mum?”
“Sure, darling.” Ruby takes the plate from Luna and hands it to Violet, who gives it to Elsie.
Rory catches my eye above this interchange and raises his brows.
I ignore him. He’s been fishing for information about Callie since she came to town, and now I’m going to have to tell him that my feelings for her have developed into something real.
But telling my closest friend—telling anyone the contents of my heart—is only going to solidify them.
It’s frightening, putting words to something I don’t quite know how to identify yet.
I don’t know if I feel ready for that.
Perhaps I ought to avoid him.
Maeve has invited the whole Stewart family to dinner while I’ve been stewing over what to say to Rory and when. Before I know it, we’re all saying our goodbyes. I look for Callie in the group, but she’s nowhere to be seen.
My gaze shoots straight to Rory, but he’s chatting with Hamish and Violet near the door.
Odd. I start back toward the car, but two steps away from the house, I spot Callie speaking to Granny. They’re hidden around the side of the building, their heads bent together as they whisper.
Well, that’s even more odd. I watch them for a moment, Callie animatedly whispering, Granny nodding. They’re discussing something, and I don’t want to interrupt, but I’m dying to know what could be so important that they’d sneak off in the middle of caroling to the Stewarts.
I’m a big guy, though. If I start toward them, they’ll notice me.
The group is still chatting at the door with Rory and his parents anyway, except for Rhys, who is watching Oliver run around the front garden.
I shove my hands into my coat pockets and start toward the scheming ladies.
When I get close enough to hear their voices, their heads pop up, and they both draw silent.
“What’s all this, then?” I ask.
Callie’s grin is so wide it seems it might split her face. “All ready to leave?”
“Not quite.” I look between them, but Granny’s lips are sealed.
She has a pleased expression and draws her arm around Callie’s back. “I like this one, Gav.”
“Me too.” I clear my throat. “Thought I might introduce her to Betsy before we take off.”
“Och, she’ll fair like that. All the Americans do, don’t they?”
“I think the Scots do as well, Granny.”
She laughs. “Fair enough, lad.”
“If they don’t want to wait, we’ll see you at Katie’s,” I say.
Granny nods, skirting us. She heads back to join our families, and I reach for Callie’s hand.
“Who’s Betsy?”
“She has long, red hair and jet black eyes.”
“So, an animal, I hope.” Callie shivers, so I draw her closer. Once we round the other side of the house and the coos come into view, she draws in a gasp. “Gavin, the cows!”
Three of them are copper, their long, straggly hair dotted with white snow, while the black one stands out against the others. The tall wire fence is dotted with wooden posts. We make our way toward it and wait.
“They’re enormous.”
“They’re cows, Callie.”
She rolls her eyes, nudging me with her shoulder. “I know. We had a cow. But they look so much bigger. Is it the hair?”
“Could be. Or could be they’re heartier.”
“You Highlanders are built different.” She sounds almost wistful.
I shift away from the pen and pin my full attention on her. She’s waved her hair, and even bundled under all those layers, she is still stunning. “Are you doing alright? You know, since learning about losing the internship.”
She seems to consider her answer before speaking. “Yeah. It seemed devastating at first. Just the idea of being stuck with Kayla for five years makes me want to rip my hair out. I realize that’s unlikely, but when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, things can feel hopeless.”
“I understand.”
She gives her head a little shake. “I’m not sure if I’ll stick with the program, but knowing I have the option to walk away changed everything. I can handle it better now, I guess? I don’t feel trapped.”
“Do you know what you’ll do?” My heart speeds.
“Honestly, no. I’m trying to take it slowly and not make a rash decision I might regret.”
“That’s wise.” I wrap my arm around her waist and tug her close when Betsy approaches, stepping a little closer than Callie was probably prepared for.
“Oh my—wow.” She draws in a breath of awe and leans against me, reaching out to pet Betsy, who is really only here hoping we’ve brought her a snack. When she realizes we’re empty-handed, she’s going to leave. “Gavin, she’s so sweet.”
Callie runs her fingers through Betsy’s hair while the coo sniffs for a carrot.
“Will you take our picture?” She pulls out her phone and hands it to me.
I take a snap of her leaning over the fence with Betsy behind her.
“Okay, now all of us.” Callie turns it on selfie mode, but Betsy has given up. She’s moved on to the wooden post, using it to scratch the bottom of her neck. We line up with her in the shot anyway, framing a few of the less friendly coos in the background, and Callie gets her snap.
I don’t want to leave. I never want this week to end. “We should probably head back.”
“Bucket list, check,” she says, putting her phone away.
I take her hand and we walk partway back to the cars before she tugs me to stop, reaches up on tiptoe, and plants a kiss right on my mouth.
“Thank you.”
“I’ll miss you, Callie Winter. Fiercely.”
She sighs, and we head for the car.