Chapter 17 Graeme
Chapter 17 Graeme
The barmy woman had run out into the rain like a loon.
And it would take her a half hour to make it back to Craighill on foot.
The music came to an abrupt stop with the slam of the front door.
“What on earth?” Dad’s question likely voiced everyone else’s thoughts.
She’d seemed so happy.
What had gone wrong? The dancing?
My gaze shot to my brother. Calum?
“I think Katie might be a better lass for you than me, Uncle Graeme.” I blinked and looked from Lachlan to Mum and back.
“And why do you say that, lad?”
“Because you’re a faster runner than me.” He set his banjo down and shrugged. “And taller. And don’t mind a wee bit of crazy.”
Calum’s brows rose as if he wanted to laugh, and the nudge somehow set my feet in motion. I grabbed my jacket and car keys
and ran out the door into the rain, searching for a sign of her. We’d left her bicycle at church because of the rain, so she
had to be on foot.
I caught sight of her red mackintosh up the drive, farther than I imagined her capable of walking in such a short period of
time. But she wasn’t walking. She was nearly running.
Away.
What had happened? Everything seemed to be going fine. Well, in fact. Mum had cooked one of her best meals. Dad brought in added humor and warmth. Calum was... Calum, but he wasn’t usually too off-putting, except when he lathered on the charm.
Eejit.
And I’d mostly behaved myself. My manners could always do with some improvement, but I’d not made a mess of things. Or so
I thought.
Her pace had slowed by the time I pulled beside her in the car. I rolled down the window. “Katie.”
Which caused her to speed back up.
So did I. “Whatever it is, we can talk it through.”
She shook her head and walked faster, her shoulders shaking.
This was getting me nowhere, so I put the car in park and stepped out in the rain after her. “Did I do something to hurt you?”
Which was the most likely option.
She shook her head more fiercely, and her feet faltered because she turned around to face me, her eyes red-rimmed, tears mingling
with rain on her face. My chest crashed from the sight.
“Your... your family is... wonderful.”
Not what I’d expected. “What?”
She sniffled, pinching her eyes closed. “Like... like a dream. Absolutely wonderful.”
“You’re greetin’ over how wonderful my family is?” Her brow creased and I rephrased. “My family made you weep?”
“No.” She gave a helpless shrug. “And yes.” She covered her eyes with one of her hands, and another sob shook her shoulders.
“You... you can’t understand. I’ve... I’ve only imagined a place so warm and sweet as your family. Where parents love
and respect each other. Where there’s... joy.”
I took another step nearer, trying to understand.
She looked up at me, the pain on her face nearly slicing my middle. “I don’t—”
“I know what it’s like to lose a sister.” Her words stilled my forward motion. “She... Sarah... she was nineteen and I was thirteen. First year of college for her, and a crazy drunk driver hit her head-on. In a moment she was gone.” The words poured out of her, as if she needed to say them. “And... and it’s hard enough to deal with the grief of a missing life. I know you understand that.” Her voice wavered, her gaze searching mine. “But what’s worse is never being able to talk about her because it will upset your fragile mother too much. And your dad can’t handle your mom’s emotions, so he just works more, leaving the kids to try and sort out an upside-down world.”
“Katie—”
“And your family... they... they’re healthy, even as they grieve. You talk about Greer and laugh as you share memories
of her.” She raised her wet sleeve to her face. “Mom removed all of Sarah’s photos. All of them. And refused to talk about
her, ever, because grieving in real time didn’t fit with her country club lifestyle. And if we did, Mom would break down on
us and blame us for her response.”
She pressed her palm into her chest. “And... and I was... the only other girl. Sarah and I were nothing alike in size
or interest, but Mom started manipulating situations to try and force me to... to almost become another Sarah. And it’s
impossible. Sarah was beautiful and graceful and intelligent and... perfect.” She shrugged. “And I was me.” She waved to
herself. “There’s no hiding who I am.” Her breath shook. “I’d always had trouble fitting into my mom’s world of pretense,
so trying to measure up to Sarah’s memory only made things worse. I always failed. And I knew I’d keep failing because no one can ever measure up to a perfect memory.”
The confession, the pain spilled out of her. I shifted another step, trying to infuse some sort of comfort into my expression.
“And I’m sorry.” She wiped at her face with her hand. “I’m sorry I don’t know how to be normal about it. And I act weird because I’m so afraid of caring too much and failing.” She sniffled again and waved back toward the house. “So when I witnessed how things could be... how they should be, it... it was too much.” Her voice broke with another sob. “And now, your absolutely lovely parents are going to hate
me because I was so rude to leave their wonderful house, and Lachlan’s going to be worried because I’m so messed up”—she looked
up at the sky—“and you’re getting soaked by the rain.” Her voice disappeared into a squeak and my heart squeezed.
In two steps, I pulled her into my arms. Her body tensed against me and then she released a sob and burrowed into me. My thoughts
reeled through what she’d said. Emotionally fragile mother and absent father. Impossible expectations.
Was that why she traveled? And rarely talked about her family? Or home?
Running away from more than just her past but... the expectation of failure?
I tightened my hold on her, raking my mind for the right words to say, hoping my arms offered some sort of reassurance that
she wasn’t a failure at all. She bloomed with life and care. Humor and goodness.
Beautiful... and stronger than she even knew.
I lowered my chin to her hair, attempting to shield her from more of the rain, and she released a shaky sigh I felt in my
chest.
Perhaps I didn’t need to say anything.
“I’m sorry, Graeme.” She looked up from her place in my arms. “I ruined one of the most lovely days I’ve ever had by—”
“Katie.” I waited for her to meet my gaze. “You’ve ruined nothing. At all. You’re doing what most creatures in the world do
when they’re afeart. They try to escape.”
“But why? Why would I run away from something I want so much?” Her palms came up in a helpless motion. “I didn’t even know
how much until today. It’s crazy.”
“It’s human.” I swallowed through a tightening in my throat. “I think you’ve needed someone to hear your heart for a long time and it hasnae happened because you’ve never stayed long enough in one place for people to care.” I pushed back her damp hair from her cheeks, searching her face. “But ye dinnae have to run from me.”
Her eyes filled with tears all over again and she looked down, her palms resting on my chest. She sniffled. “I... I don’t
want to run from you.”
I breathed out a sigh and pulled her back into my arms, allowing a few more tears to join the others on my shoulder. How long
had it been since someone held her like this? Listened to her fears?
Too long, from the sound of it.
“We... we need to get you out of the rain.” She sniffled into my shoulder.
Of course she’d focus on me when both of us stood under the same downpour. “Do you want me to drive you to Craighill?”
She nodded. “If we can take the long way?”
I wiped my palms over her cheeks as she looked up at me, attempting to dry away the mixture of rain and tears. “Aye, we can
do that.”
I led her to the passenger’s side and then took my place, allowing the silence a little room as we traveled across the narrow
roads. I wasn’t sure what to ask or say, but the longer the silence continued, the more wrong it felt.
God, help me .
I drew in a breath and ventured a question. “What was your sister like?”
I wasn’t sure if she’d heard me at first, but after fidgeting with the zipper of her mackintosh for a moment, she cleared
her throat. “Um, well, petite. So, not like me.” She chuckled. “When Mom tried to get me to sign up for cheerleading after
Sarah died, it was a nightmare. I mean, look at me. No one’s going to want to try and hold me at the top of one of the stunts.
Oh no! And as clumsy as I am, the idea of being a base or spotter was kind of iffy too.”
She rubbed at her eyes again, her hair falling in fiery ringlets around her face, those eyes so large and vulnerable, they pulled me in with her to this pain. I could almost imagine her stumbling through life, trying to appease her mother while pushing her grief deeper and deeper until it waited like a bomb to explode.
“I imagine you would have been the first to help a fallen cheerleader though.”
My comment brought her gaze back up, her brow creased. “I... don’t know. Maybe?”
I felt her stare. Did she not see her own self? I’d had the opportunity to observe her for over two weeks, even more so when
becoming the butler, and she never failed to be the first to offer assistance or encouragement to the others in the house.
She’d rescued Miss Dupont from a dress malfunction, offered her plate to Logan when one of the footmen spilled some of the
contents from his, redirected Wake when he’d gotten lost in the garden, and even saved the Eejit from Kirsty. And those had
only been a few of the many instances, offering kindness with her own brand of humor on top.
It was a part of who she was.
“But... but Sarah was someone who made a room better just because she entered it. She had a way of putting people at ease
and bringing joy. Sometimes very bossy joy, but it ended up being a good thing.” She sighed. “And she could sing! When Mom
asked me to join the choir like my sister, I tried to talk her out of it because I really can’t sing. I didn’t last very long.”
A lightness entered her voice as she spoke, so I kept with the conversation. “Did she look like you?”
“Ha! No.” She shook her head. “Sarah would have been like one of your Scottish faeries. She had this magnificent blond hair
and blue eyes. Effortlessly beautiful, elegantly slender.”
“I’m fond of gingers, myself.” I shot her wink. “Tall ones.”
She looked over at me, those quivering lips of hers tipped upward a little. “Nice move for the weepy woman whose face probably
looks like the inside of a watermelon right now.”
Her description unleashed my grin, but I mastered it back into a serious expression. “I mean it, Katie.”
Her gaze held mine, searching, as if for the truth of my words. “I don’t know why.”
“Would you believe me if I told ye?” I looked over at her from my periphery as I drove.
Her brow crinkled anew. “I... I don’t know.”
I drew the car to a stop at the front of Craighill and turned to face Katie. “I have some orders to make tomorrow, but will
you join me for supper on Tuesday?”
“Mrs. Lennox has us booked up with lessons in preparation for the ball, but maybe lunch on Wednesday?”
“Aye.” I grinned. “That will give me even more time to make my list.”
“Your list?” She wiped at her eyes with her fingers.
“Of all the reasons I like you, so you’ll have a different voice in your head than your mum’s.”
She shook her head as she looked down, but her smile spread. “You don’t have to do that, Graeme.”
“I want to. And I want to spend as much time with you as I can, Katie. If you fancy spending time with me.”
And maybe that was the trouble. Me.
She looked back up, her fingers twisting together again. “I’d fancy that.”
“Good.” I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Lunch? At the cottage?”
“Aye.” The word shook out in a small laugh, and she reached for the door handle. “And thank you. For everything, Graeme, but
especially for welcoming me into your home and family and... chasing after me. That... that means a lot. Please apologize
to your family for me.”
“My family was glad to have you, Katie.” I took her arm as she made to move, pausing her escape to add emphasis. “And so was
I.”
Her smile flashed wide for a second. “See you Wednesday?”
“Aye.” I released her arm. She exited the car, and something in me wondered if I’d see her again or if she’d resume the escape
plan she’d started when she left my parents’ house.
I prayed she’d be brave enough to stay. To finish out her plans.
Even if her plans didn’t include me.
***
Katie
Monday started delightfully relaxed.
Mrs. Lennox gave all the guests the morning free in preparation for a visit from the new fashion expert, who was due to arrive
and fit us for our ball gowns. Evidently Mrs. Lennox had made an agreement with her from the beginning to design original
ball gowns for each of the ladies at the house as part of the experience. And as a historian and designer, her dresses would
not only promote one of the benefits of visiting Craighill but would work as cross-promotion for the designer’s skills.
Evidently she was an up-and-coming fashion genius.
And what girl didn’t get a little giddy now and again about wearing something she could never normally afford? But since World on a Page was paying, I’d bask in the opportunity.
I’m sure Graeme was glad to have the morning away from his butler duties, but with this being the last week, at least the
end was in sight for him.
I frowned. It wasn’t an ending I liked to think about.
An uncomfortable ache settled in my middle, and I dropped down into my desk chair.
I couldn’t shake the feeling of Graeme MacKerrow’s embrace.
And I didn’t want to.
Even now as I closed my eyes, the strength of his arms around me, the tenderness in his touch, burned into my memory. I wanted to stay in those arms forever, draw from that strength. My heart panged against the idea. But I couldn’t.
I had a job to do.
Trips to make.
Stories to tell.
And after yesterday, no matter how sweet Graeme’s response, nobody wanted me and all my brokenness in their family. The scene
came back to my mind in horrific detail. They’d been so sweet to me, and I’d run out into the rain to escape. I was a disaster.
But what if Graeme and his family wanted me?
The question weaseled up through my doubts. What if...?
I’d bared my soul to Graeme in a way I had never to anyone except my grandparents. I’d entrusted him with parts of my heart
no one else knew, and—I winced—there was more where that came from.
And instead of leaving me standing in the rain alone, he’d asked me on a date.
Who was this guy? A glutton for punishment?
It was a good thing I wasn’t seeing Graeme today, because my emotions weren’t fit for a view of those shoulders and arms.
Especially when I knew what they felt like around me now. Nope. Any resolve I had wouldn’t stand a chance against his brogue
and his grin.
And that look in his eyes.
My throat squeezed at the memory. But wrapped in his arms was where I wanted to tarry for a very long time. Maybe even forever.
Was Graeme MacKerrow what home felt like?
I shook away the thought and sat down at my computer to make a few notes. I’d just sent off an email to Dave and was getting
ready to close my laptop when I caught sight of my open Katie book document where I’d left it the day before.
After yesterday, would Calum still want to read this? I checked my phone for Calum’s email address and stared at it for a little while before setting in on the desk and closing my computer.
That was a lot to ask a man you just met... and possibly even emotionally scarred.
A knock pulled me to the door, but instead of finding Emily with a breakfast tray in hand, Mrs. Lennox greeted me with a trained
smile. And beside her stood a strikingly beautiful dark-haired woman, a good five inches shorter than me, with the most amazing
green eyes.
“Ah, Miss Campbell.” Mrs. Lennox gestured toward the woman. “This is Allison Duncan, the designer from Edinburgh who has been
working on all the gowns for the ball on Wednesday evening. She’s here for your fitting.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Duncan.”
The woman took my outstretched hand. “I’d expected you to be tall from your measurements, but now I’m even more excited about
your fitting.”
Definitely a different response than expected, and delivered in a Scottish accent too. “Really?”
“Aye.” Her eyes glistened like a kid’s at Christmas. “The color and style of my design for you is going to prove a stunner.
Without a doubt.”
Stunner? Not the usual description for me, but I was intrigued.
“Miss Lennox will expect you in an hour, Miss Duncan, and we are all looking forward to seeing your designs on display.” Mrs.
Lennox nodded and then left us.
“So, Miss Duncan—”
“Please, call me Allison.” She hung a long garment bag on my closet door. “The only part I play in the charade is as a designer.”
“You’re one of the few Scots Mrs. Lennox has brought on, so she must really like your work.”
“I think she liked my price even better.” Allison unzipped the bag to reveal a shimmery confection of warm teal. “But I need the visibility, and I have a soft spot for Mull.”
I stepped closer to the gown, mesmerized. “You... you think that’s the best one for me?”
“Oh, aye.” She ran a hand over the slim bodice, beaded with darker teal to make delicate vertical rows that gave off an almost
elegant, corseted look. “You have curves we can certainly complement with the right gown.”
I refrained from sharing that I’d tucked a curve or two into my jeans.
“It’s beautiful. Like something from a movie.”
“Which is what I hope to do in the future, if I can continue getting my designs out for the world to see.”
“Design for movies?” I stepped forward and fingered one of the elbow-length lace sleeves. This? For me?
“As you well know, visibility takes time and lots of hard work, but my work is poised to be noticed right now, and this extra
opportunity is just what I need.” She tugged the full length of the gown out from the bag.
“It’s not as puffy at the bottom as some of the other evening dresses I’ve worn.”
“There was a slimming to the bottom of the gowns as the Edwardian era neared its close, and I thought that with your proportions
you would showcase this certain style quite well.” She raised a dark brow, examining my face. “It hints toward the flapper
gowns of the twenties and will certainly accentuate your silhouette.”
Accentuating my silhouette didn’t sound as flattering as her expression conveyed, so maybe I needed to reevaluate.
“The difficulty so often associated with women of your body type is that you try to minimize what you have.” She waved to herself, a much slimmer but still hourglass shape. “Would you tell me not to wear things that showcase my shape?”
“Of course not, but you’re—”
“The same shape as you, except to fit my height. And your body type fits your height beautifully, so let’s celebrate it.”
She scanned the room. “Come now, I’m excited to see how it looks, so put it on for size.”
I took the gown into the large walk-in closet and slipped out of my jeans and T-shirt and into the shimmery combination of
soft cloth and delicate beading. Thankfully, both the bottom and top of the cello fit with only a slight catch on the upper
quadrant.
“Ah yes.” Allison brought her hands together in clear delight as I walked into the room. “The color is perfect and the sweetheart
neckline complements the straighter lines on the rest of the dress. Oh, it’s even better than I imagined.”
“You really have a gift.”
“It’s a special compliment when the wearer brings out the best in my designs.” She took her fingers and pinched in various
places on the gown. “Only needs a tuck here and there for the bodice to maintain the slip look around your waist.”
“Did you say you have a soft spot for Mull?”
Allison kept her head bent as she pinned the cloth at my waist. “I’ve spent a great deal of time here in the past. It’s a
brilliant island to visit, but not the kind of place most people choose to stay.”
“No?”
“There’s not much here, and people are stuck in their old ways of thinking and living.” She looked up. “The villages are quaint
and sweet but small, with limited options. The landscape is gorgeous but desolate at times. And if you really want any variety,
you must travel an hour or more to reach the nearest city.”
Variety? My walks along the countryside in the misty air, the vastness and somewhat intimidating mountains. The winding paths
and roadways that led to untold adventures that kept unfolding around every turn.
And the people?
Sure, this island and its “small” life wasn’t meant for everyone, but the appeal to my heart kept growing.
It felt more and more like the home I was beginning to want for my future.
If home could include frequent-flyer miles.
“You’ve traveled all over the world,” she continued, moving to pin the other side. “Do you think you would be satisfied living
in a confined place like this?”
“Living somewhere doesn’t mean you’re trapped there, does it?” I stared down at her bent head. “Coming home to one of those
little cottages with a handsome Scot to welcome me sounds pretty appealing on every level.”
Her gaze came to mine, and her smile crooked. “Ah, have you found someone to share a cottage with, then?”
My face flushed hot. “Not necessarily.” Though the memory of being in Graeme’s arms came to mind, causing my insides to conveniently
melt. “But the idea is nice.”
“I see the way of it. You do fancy someone.” She stood and stared up at me, her smile firming into a line. “Then let me give you fair warning about the
men of Mull.”
I raised my chin to brace myself.
“Their hearts are bound to this place, and they’re not too keen on the ones they love having a wanderlust.”
Graeme’s lack of desire to leave Mull to feature his art came to mind. “You seem to know from experience.”
“Aye.” She nodded. “I was engaged to a good man here on Mull. Great family. But my dreams were elsewhere, and he wouldn’t
support those dreams, not if it meant leaving Mull.”
The thought pinched against my newfound giddiness. “People change,” I offered in defense of her fellow, but also to protect my hopes. “If you cared about each other enough to become engaged, then maybe time has helped soften his heart to the idea. I mean, if he’s such a good guy.”
“He is.” She studied me a moment, and then her expression softened. “And perhaps I can take the opportunity to find out how
much he’s changed while I’m here.”
I never made claims to being a matchmaker, but offering encouragement for two formerly connected hearts to find their way
back to each other certainly sounded like a good idea. Especially if the guy she left was anything like Graeme.
“Well, I think I’ve gotten everything on the gown ready for adjustments. You can change if you like.”
My gaze fell on my rust-and-cream walking dress lying across my bed, and my plans for today came to mind. “Since historical
dress is your specialty, would you mind if I asked you a question?”
“Of course.”
I gestured toward the walking dress. “A few of my readers keep asking me questions about these types of dresses holding up
for the long walks that we see Jane Austen or Bront?’s characters make in the Regency era. Do you think this would make a
good comparison?”
She ran a finger over the skirt of the dress. “It’s made of sturdy cotton, which would have been similar to some of the day
dresses of the time, so a fair comparison. Why?”
“I was thinking of going on a walk in costume this morning before our activities begin and documenting it for my followers.”
She chuckled. “Well then, don’t forget a hat and sturdy shoes, because it looks like rain.”