Chapter 9 Graeme
Chapter 9 Graeme
The sound of voices outside drew my attention to the front of Mum’s bookshop. I’d stopped in to shore up one of her beloved
bookshelves as it had gotten shoogly over the last few months.
Occasionally we’d have a coach stop over for a bit to shop or have lunch, but most of the time a coach gave off warning by
the sound of the engine rattling against the quiet hum of the everyday.
I placed my hammer on the shelf and walked to the front window, leaning over the newest collection of handcrafted walking
sticks to take a wee keek at the commotion. A collection of people poised on the edge of the loch, wearing an assortment of
vintage clothes, were creating quite the spectacle.
I rolled my gaze heavenward.
Barmy. The lot of them.
And then my attention settled on Katie Campbell. Her gown appeared less elegant than the others and so tight it easily highlighted
her curvy silhouette. But her profile held the real mesmerizing quality. Shaded beneath that muckle hat of hers, all smiles
had faded. She wore an intriguing look—distant. Maybe lost or a little lonely.
I shouldn’t care, truth be told.
And she shouldn’t draw my attention like she did. No more than the rest of the group with their fancy dress and saucer-sized
hats. But she did. In a bathersome way. My attention kept pulling back to the ginger in the ill-fitting frock and an expression
filled with unvoiced emotions.
Suddenly her entire body stiffened, and she turned, eyes wide.
Then I heard it.
The sound of Kirsty’s bicycle bell.
Och! How on earth did the little imp plan these things? Did she keep watch for victims from her granny’s front porch?
The girl made sport of scaring strangers, and with the last week of summer term in place, she’d likely have even more freedom.
Usually her antics weren’t a problem because she rarely disturbed the natives anymore, but when tourists came, it was like
she had a radar out to find them. Wild one, she was. But with naught but her aged granny for family, she was left to her own
devices... and amusement most of the time.
“What’s all the noise?”
Mum’s question fell on deaf ears as Katie grabbed a man’s arm near her, clearly trying to get his attention about mad Kirsty.
In one quick movement, the man shocked to attention, moving away from Kirsty’s trajectory, but in the process knocked Katie
back. Katie stumbled, attempted to keep her balance with arms flailing about like propellers, and then—my breath seized in
my chest—she tumbled over into the loch.
Did catastrophe follow the woman?
“Good heavens, Graeme!” Mum called.
I rushed to the door and flung it open, Mum on my heels. Dodging two ladies in fancy dress, I ran the distance to the loch,
passing the daft man she’d saved as he stared into the water without one step to help.
“I... I didn’t know. I... didn’t mean...”
The loch wasn’t especially deep at the water’s edge—perhaps twelve feet—but deep enough.
Katie didn’t emerge, but I could see her silhouette below the water, her arms frantically moving but not making progress to
the surface. Jerking off my jacket and tugging off my shoes, I drew in a deep breath and plunged into the loch.
The cool water soaked through my T-shirt and jeans as I swam in Katie’s direction and waited for the bubbles from my dive to dissipate. A pale arm flapped toward me through the bubbles, and then her gaze met mine. So wide, so vulnerable, pleading for my response.
And my heart squeezed an answer.
She pointed below to her skirt, and I swam lower, noting the trouble.
The bottom of her dress had interwoven with an old, disposed oyster cage. I dove lower and found the tangle, ripping the knotted
lace to free her. With the last tug of snagged cloth, I rose, wrapping my arm about her waist on the way to the surface.
Her arms were wrapped around my neck, her body flush against mine, as we broke above the water line. I may have freed the
tangle of her dress, but the knot in my chest only tightened as she coughed against my shoulder, her cold cheek pressing into
my neck.
Greer had looked at me with such fear once.
Only once.
Near the end.
And I’d been helpless to save her.
But Katie trembled against me, a mingle of breaths and coughs assuring me of her fitness, and... well, I fought rising
emotions until they stung at my eyes. I was a bloomin’ fool, I was.
With a sweep of my arm, I brought us close to the rock wall lining the water’s edge and steadied us against it. She coughed
once more before shivering into my side. My hold instinctively tightened around her, and with one long sigh, her head dropped
against my shoulder, fully trusting me and my strength.
The pressure in my chest tightened to the hurting point. Don’t trust me to keep you safe , I wanted to say, but the words refused to form. Instead, I went completely doolally and held her a little closer.
Because... truth be told. She was safe now.
“Do you need help?”
I shook free from my thoughts and looked up. A gentleman about Dad’s age leaned over the edge of the rock wall, holding the handle of a nearby ladder into the loch.
“I think we’re fine,” I called back and then lowered my voice near her ear. “Are ye, lass?”
Her breath quivered warm against my skin, and then she raised her head. Those large eyes of hers so fathomless, I lost my
train of thought all over again. Damp hair uncoiled in dark ginger waves around her face, highlighting those eyes, drawing
me further into the madness. The same need—ache—branched out through my chest as I willed to protect this woman.
No—more than protect.
To discover who she was.
Her bottom lip trembled, and my rebel heart pulsed against my rib cage in response.
“Y... yes,” she rasped.
And my attention dropped to those trembling lips. Pale pink now.
It’d been a while since I’d kissed a woman.
Heat broke through the chill of my body. Wheesht! Ach! No!
I shouldn’t have made eye contact.
I didn’t need to start daydreaming about any lass right now. My gaze trailed skyward.
Heaven must be conspiring against me.
With a brief nod to let her know I heard her, I used my hand to move toward the ladder, keeping any more of my attention away
from her eyes or lips.
Or face.
Or form.
Or hair.
Crivens! The water pixies were at work with their mischief, and no mistake.
Because I wasn’t going to fall for some social media world traveler who had a penchant for trouble.
Cold stone wall. That’s the way of it. Focus on that, mate.
“Trouble seems to follow you, Katie Campbell.” The words came out harsher than I meant.
“It usually pursues me, not just follows m... me.” She trembled again, and my treacherous arm tightened around her, her soft curves pressing
up against my side. And she had curves.
Suddenly my breath felt insufficient. “I’d advise you to get better at hiding from it then.”
“If you’ve got any advice on how to do that, just let me know.” Her cough erupted like a sad little laugh. “Because I’m awfully
tired of being found so often.”
I looked back at her, only to catch myself in her stare once again. A smile waited in her eyes, apologetic. “Thank you, Graeme.”
My name, rasped from those lips, shouldn’t heat my blood.
It was just a word. Everyone said it, some with more friendliness than others.
But the tenderness in her expression, paired with the way her accent curled around my name, settled me and unnerved me at
the same time. Aye, there was more to Katie Campbell than a trouble finder, but I hadn’t the need to discover it.
I looked away, the ladder near and relief at hand. “You wouldn’t have taken a fall if it hadnae been for the gommy eejit who
pushed you.”
“Gommy?” A blast of air shot from her in a laugh. “Yeah, Mark’s not the most heroic gent in Craighill, that’s for sure. And
he’s in competition with me, so that makes him even more charming.”
My lips twitched despite myself. Her sarcasm carried a spine with it.
“But thankfully, chivalry isn’t dead because you showed up.”
I opened my mouth to protest my chivalry, but she continued with an added shiver. “Let’s just say, I might have been knocking on some pearly gates sooner than I planned.”
The humor in her voice didn’t match the sudden tension around her eyes. Aye, she’d been afeart. Truly. Enough to curb her
humor a bit. And perhaps she would have gotten free. Her skirt wasn’t deeply enfolded in the oyster cage. But perhaps not.
The knot in my chest unraveled a little. And I was glad my quick thinking had proved helpful. Simply put. That was all. Something
any man should have been ready to do, in fact.
“Try not to make it a habit of expecting me to come to the rescue.” I growled out the words, attempting to create some sort
of barrier between her and my infuriating, unwanted, and unexpected curiosity. “I’m not as fond of trouble as you.”
Her smile fell for the briefest moment and then resurfaced. “I’ll try to steer clear of you as best I can, but thank you nonetheless.”
And with my name on her lips and a renewed sadness in those eyes, she released her hold on me and stepped to the ladder, while
I internally gave myself a tongue-lashing. She climbed to the top, assisted by the earlier gentleman who’d asked if we needed
help, and then I followed. I wasn’t an utter numpty or a “grump” as she’d said. Not usually. But the way she weakened my defenses
had me sounding like one.
“Katie Campbell, what on earth happened to you?” Lennox stepped forward, looking over Katie’s rumpled appearance with a horrified
expression. “Your dress is ruined. And where is your glorious hat?”
Dress? Hat? I reached the top of the ladder and fairly exploded. “You’re concerned about the bloomin’ dress when the woman could have
died?”
“Died?” Lennox gasped, along with her daughter at her side.
I jerked my jacket from the ground and looked back at Katie. The thin material of her dress did little to hide those curves I’d only recently appreciated too much for my own good. I nearly groaned out my frustration, half at myself and half at Mrs. Lennox’s daftness.
“Mr. MacKerrow was quick to step in though.” Katie glanced up at me before she turned back to Mrs. Lennox. “So I’d say that’s
another great boon for loving Scotland, don’t you? Handsome and heroic natives? A definite marketing feature.”
A few scattered laughs followed her comment, but one look in those watery eyes of hers proved the humor a ruse. And if I hadn’t
been trying to suss out what lay behind her fake smile, I may have spent too much time on the idea that she thought me handsome.
“I would have gone in after her if he hadn’t beat me to it.” The eejit who’d pushed her waved toward me, but I refused to give his flimsy excuse a response. Instead,
I wrapped my jacket around Katie.
Her expression registered surprise, and no wonder, with my less than noble reaction earlier. Well, if I was going to be a
grump, at least I could be a decent one.
“Let’s get her to the bookshop and into the dry.” Mum wrapped her arm around Katie, a humorous picture, seeing as Mum’s petite
stature barely made it to Katie’s shoulder. “Graeme can light a fire in the stove to help knock off the chill.”
I walked ahead of them to begin my task, with the sound of Mrs. Lennox’s voice in my ears. “Everyone, please carry on with
your shopping. Carry on. We have the situation under control.”
Indeed! I increased my pace and stifled a growl.
“Katie-girl, let’s find you something to wear that’s not soaked to the skin.” Mum seated Katie on a chair near the stove as
I worked with the wood. “Graeme, I’m going to the back to brew a pot and then ring Second Go to see what clothes Lara can
send over.”
She bustled away, leaving me and Katie alone in the room. I kept turned away from her as I worked, but the sound of her shaking breaths so near sent tingles up my back and sent me into quicker motion.
“I’d heard tea solved everything in Britain, but I hadn’t experienced its magic until I came here.”
I kept my face forward, lighting the kindling beneath a few dry pieces of wood. “That, or ale for some people.”
“Oh, right.” She chuckled. “Two drinks that cause two very different internal warmth responses.”
“Aye.” Though, the memory of her in my arms came with its own unwelcome internal warmth response. I pinched my eyes closed
and sighed, then blew into the small flicker. The flame took hold, moving from the kindling to the wood pieces. I stood and
turned toward her, her face paler than I liked. “Come a wee bit closer and you’ll start feeling the warmth.”
She obeyed. “You don’t need to stay here for my sake, Graeme. I’m sure you’d like to get some dry clothes on too.”
I ignored her dismissal and folded my arms across my chest. “Who’s the eejit?”
“The eejit?”
“The radge who pushed you in the loch.”
Her brows rose and then her lips. “Mark?”
“Aye, Mark. Why is he in competition with you?”
She shook her head and looked away. “We’re both up for the same award for using humor and creativity in our social media presence.
I won last year, so he’s extra determined to win this time.”
“You write humor?”
“Miss Adventure?” She glanced back up at me and waved toward herself. “That’s me. I mean, my latest exploit, of which you
played an integral role”—she gestured toward the door—“is just part and parcel of my brand.”
“I thought you wrote about travel.”
“I do. I write about travel tips and locations and people, but my followers are used to me sharing about the things that go wrong. Most of the time they’re more humorous or ridiculous than life-threatening, but humor has always been a part of my life.”
“Life can be hard. Humor is a good weapon to have in defense.”
Her gaze held mine a moment before we both looked away. The crackling of the growing fire broke into the silence.
“I’m sorry for...” She shrugged.
“No.” I raked a hand through my hair and took a seat across from her. “It wasnae your fault. And”—I drew in a deep breath,
forcing out the words—“I was glad to be... a help.”
Her eyes narrowed for the briefest moment, lips wobbling as if trying to sort out what to say next. “What do you have against
the whole hero thing?”
Heroes saved the day. Kept the girl. Rescued the moment. My track record so far wasn’t stellar. I couldn’t save my sister.
Allison left. And I’d had to reach near-poverty to secure purchase of our family’s estate house. None of those things sounded
heroic in the least.
I shrugged. “I dinnae have anything against it.”
One of her brows needled northward, and I tried to ignore the prodding look.
“You say the word hero and people like you think Mr. Bloomin’ Darcy or Jamie Fraser or Superman.” I gave my head a fierce shake. “No real man can meet expectations like that.”
“People like me?” She crossed her arms, brow still raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Heat rose into my face and I stood. “Fanciful.” I waved toward her dress. “American.”
“American?” Her laugh burst out, and then she shrugged, taking the jab with ease. “Okay, maybe you do have a point there.” Her quick humor lit her eyes. “Let me assure you, I’ve met enough real men to keep my expectations pretty grounded. But last I heard, the definition of a hero has stayed pretty consistent in the fictional and nonfictional realms for millennia, whether you want to claim it or not.”
We stared at each other again, her gaze refusing to give way to mine and me much too stubborn to relent. Hero? What lad hadn’t
aimed for such, only to fail miserably when real-life people proved much harder to rescue than in comic books and movies?
She looked away first, her brow crinkling. “And who’s to say that sometimes a hero is exactly what a person needs, not just
to save a life, but to remind them that there are still regular, everyday, non-superpowered good guys out there in the world?
Maybe you’re the one with the wrong definition.”
Her words hit me in the stomach. First Mum and now Katie Campbell telling me I’m wrong? I steadied my palms on my waist, trying
to think of a solid retort... and failing.
She raised her gaze back to mine. “You should take it as a compliment from a grateful recipient, not a challenge. It’s okay
just to be who you are, Graeme.”
I swallowed my response and somehow felt taller all at the same time. How did she do that? Her faith in me? Her gratitude?
It was as if her words skipped right over my arguments to stab directly into how I wanted to be seen. Even if I’d failed in
the past. Even if I’d still fail.
I didn’t know what to do with that information.
“Mr. MacKerrow.”
The call pierced into my foggy thoughts, and I pulled my attention from Katie to find Lennox standing in the doorway of the
shop. Her tight smile came with its own warning.
“Could I speak with you for a moment?”
The fact I wanted to linger near Katie only pricked my agitation all the more. And my curiosity. I really was bloomin’ mad.
Maybe someone needed to rescue me from my eejit self!
I drew in a deep breath and tipped my head to Katie, nearly getting caught in those eyes again, before walking to meet Lennox.
“Mr. MacKerrow.” She pressed her hands together in front of her as if she needed to brace herself for whatever she planned
to say.
At least we both knew how to prepare for each other.
“I have a favor I must beg of you, and I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your services.”
How could her request send chills and hope at the same time? A favor for her? Heaven only knew what that could be. But “pay
you handsomely” had an extra nice ring to it. “Favor?”
“It would greatly improve the overall experience for our guests, thus improving visibility for Craighill, you know?”
She was trying to sell this idea much too hard. I prepared for impact. “What do ye need, Mrs. Lennox?”
She drew in a breath and her lips grew into an unnatural smile. “What I need , Mr. MacKerrow, is a butler.”
***
Katie
I had a threadbare hold on my emotions.
And even that was unraveling.
The very idea of not making it free from the wire cage in time was branded on my mind. I shivered. Although I felt pretty
sure about my eternal security, skimming along the edge of death wasn’t a move I wished to make on a regular basis.
Despite trouble’s fascination with me.
And then came Graeme, taking on trouble... and winning.
I watched him as he approached Mrs. Lennox, his body towering over the petite woman. The water had taken his loose curls and
tightened them into ringlets to make any woman envious... or delirious.
Seriously, what was it about a massive man with a head full of curls?
His shoulders pulled at the cloth of his wet T-shirt, his arm muscles defined beneath the thin material, and I pressed a palm to the base of my throat, a frisson of warmth shimmying up through my midsection.
The way he’d wrapped those arms around me and brought me to the surface. The feel of his palm pressed against the small of
my back and the way his pale gaze had searched mine, checking for my well-being. And then he’d called me lass . Heaven and earth! There was power in the way he spoke that word.
Sure, I’d seen my fair share of Scottish movies involving time travel or Liam Neeson, or even a dancing Gene Kelly, but none
of those had breathed the word lass against my ear in a deep brogue I felt reverberating in my chest. None of those came with a very real, iron-clad chest and
mind-blanking periwinkle eyes.
None of those had ever made me feel... safe.
And seen .
A tremble traveled through me again, but not from the cold this time. From the dangling carrot of something dangerous and
hopeful and impossible packaged inside the fifty-foot gorgeous grump in the room. A man who had to be reminded that it was
okay to be a hero.
I took in his tense profile, attempting to keek through his wealth of black curls.
Who was this guy?
I wrapped my arms around myself and squeezed against the warmth spilling through me. And why did I have to meet him? I hugged
myself harder.
Sometimes it’s worse to experience something you can’t have than never to have experienced it at all. Kind of like eating
generic chocolate after tasting name brand. Ignorance truly is bliss.
Maybe.
But like an addict, my heart wanted one more hit of that high. One more feel of his arms to see if what I’d experienced wasn’t
just the post-life-saving rush, but something sweeter.
I pinched my eyes closed. Nope. I didn’t want that. I didn’t need to want that. And besides, he clearly wished to steer clear of me. I was a fluke in his life. A trouble-making fluke. I’d
leave in a little less than three weeks. Gone. An unhappy memory.
But my gaze pulled back to him, dipping my daydreaming into threatening territory that started with two very dangerous words:
what if.
What if the way he looked at me was more than simple concern? What if my traveling around the world wasn’t such a big deal?
What if lingering long enough meant finding a dream even better than I’d imagined? My heart squeezed against the pull.
He was rubbing his forehead like he had a headache, his voice too low to make out the conversation. Mrs. Lennox nodded and
handed him a slip of paper. His eyes widened.
What were they talking about? Whatever it was, shock looked pretty nice on him.
Despite the internal struggle, I wanted another conversation with him, if for nothing else than to press the hero issue. I
fought a grin. Okay, and maybe just to see if he’d call me lass again. Because that was neck-tingly nice.
“Ah, here we are.” Mirren’s voice broke into my attempts to eavesdrop. She carried a tray laden with all sorts of yummy temptations,
placing the bountiful offering on the table in front of me. “Tea and some biscuits. And Lara’s collecting a change of clothes
so ye won’t have to stay in those wet things all the way back to Craighill.”
“Oh, Mirren, you don’t have to—”
“Wheesht, luv,” she interjected, her smile as kind as the first time I met her. She had one of those looks like my gran. The
type I tried to avoid but desperately wanted to be near. Her entire personality offered something even more terrifying than
falling in a loch.
She offered a glimpse into how a mother should be. Of the possibility of feeling a connection like I once knew with my gran.
And that little teaser pricked razor sharp. Because it left. Or broke. Or... I’d never be able to earn it.
“None of that. It’s naught but some items from the charity shop. They’ll be dry at the very least.” Mirren surveyed me with
an assessing eye. “What are you? Five eleven? Six feet?”
Good guess. “Six one.”
“And ten or eleven stones?”
“Stones?” I narrowed my eyes with my grin. “Um... I’d say my birthstone is a sapphire, but I don’t think that’s what you’re
looking for.”
“Ah yes.” Mirren chuckled and poured a cup of tea into a lovely teacup with blue flowers on it. “How much do you weigh? Or
do you calculate it in kilograms?”
Did she just ask me how much I weighed? “Um... I know kilograms are used throughout most of Europe, but stones?” My grin
wobbled a little wider. “By the way, I like the idea of saying how many stones you are much better than pounds.” I laughed.
“Kudos to Britain! I mean, it could really boost a girl’s confidence to say something like, ‘Oh, I’m measured in diamonds
or rubies.’ Nice way to spin the usually negative view on weight.”
“You have a great sense of humor, Katie-girl.” Mirren’s smile spread into a chuckle as she offered me the teacup. “It does
a heart good for the troubles of the world to bring some laughter into it.”
I paused on the sentiment. Surely Mirren couldn’t know about my history or how humor had rescued me so many times in my grief.
But her sentence hit too near the truth. “It’s what I’m paid to do. Make lemonade out of lemons, so to speak.”
“Aye, so I’ve seen.”
“You have?”
“Aye.” She placed a cookie on a small plate and offered it to me. “I’ve started following your blog online.” A twinkle deepened
the blue of her eyes. “The most recent article amused me more than I can say. Only the smartest lasses want to fall for a
Scot.”
Heat infused my face to such a degree, I was pretty sure all the water still on my cheeks evaporated. “Well, the title was a great eye-catcher created by my editor .”
Just to be clear.
“Indeed.” She waved toward the cup in my hand. “Drink your tea before it cools too much to do ye any good.” She poured another
cup. “A stone equals fourteen pounds, so ten stones are a hundred and forty.”
I’m pretty sure I felt the hot trail of tea move all the way to my stomach, shooting warmth through my extremities like an
internal hug. Gracious sakes, these Scots dabbled in magic. “Ah, well, then I’m closer to 12 stones.” I leaned in, lowering
my voice. “I take after my sturdy gran.”
“More of you to love, is what my gran always said.” Mirren offered a wink. “Besides, there’s something to be said for a strong
woman, isn’t there? Outside and in.” Her gaze took on a prodding look. “Able to weather the storms of life, only to come out
the other side with a smile.”
Sometimes a fake smile.
I’d mastered that. After all, authenticity and cyberland rarely walked hand in hand. Still, my smile wasn’t always an act.
Folks like her seemed to sneak beyond the superficial, straight to the heart, much too quickly for my defenses. Kind of like
my grandparents, reminding me of something real and true. And good. A heavenly kind of love spilling down to earth.
Though sometimes I had to wrestle my doubts about God’s love into submission when I viewed them through the lens of my fourteen-year-old
self trying to come to terms with a loss my parents refused to discuss and the weight of responsibility no child should have
to carry.
Humans! Why God kept loving us baffled me sometimes.
“So far, I’ve been measured in precious stones and told my healthy stature just proves more to love. What’s not to like about that perspective?” I raised my teacup in cheers. “Mirren, I think you are my favorite person I’ve met in Scotland so far.”
The woman’s chuckle warmed me before her arms did, but when she reached over and gave me a hug, a barrier within my heart
cracked a little. She smelled of baked goods and rose hand cream. She hugged like she meant it.
And despite every cell in my body screaming retreat, I... lingered. Right there in her hug. And fought the heat gathering
beneath my eyelids. Just a moment. Long enough to create a memory. Because it couldn’t be anything more.
Between Mirren and her motherly affection and Graeme and his... attraction, the sooner I slipped back up to crazy Craighill
and away from all these temptations, the better off I’d be.
If I just steered clear of Glenkirk for the next two weeks, I wasn’t as likely to see Graeme or Mirren as often, and the temptation
to fall into a friendship with either of them would prove less likely.
Because if Mirren turned out to be as sweet and welcoming and wonderful as she appeared, and my heart got the smallest taste
of that, no amount of generic may ever satisfy again.
And I didn’t belong here.