Glasgow Grace (7 page)

Callum embraced her, and then stepped back. His eyes glistened and he shook his head. “Wow. You look good.”

Mission accomplished. She gazed at him through lowered lashes. “So do you. Wow, too.”

“Are you ready?”

“Let me grab my bag, scarf, and gifts.”

“Don’t tell me you went Christmas shopping? You didn’t have to.”

Skye peered up at Callum as she blew out the candle. “Oh, yes, I did.” She slipped on her coat and wrapped the scarf around her neck before gathering the four bags. Scrunched tissue paper hid the gifts and gave the packaging that finishing touch.

He reached for the bags.

Although reluctant to part with any, she couldn’t deny his offer. Besides, how could she hold his hand if she didn’t? She passed him three, retaining his gift. “Thank you.” She slipped her free hand into his.

Callum’s fingers tightened around hers.

Outside the roads and sidewalks were painted white with flakes. As they ambled across the parking lot to the little bug-shaped car, they trod carefully through the powdered snow that dampened the surrounding sounds.

Except for Callum humming “Silent Night.”

All was calm. But for how long?

5

Who owned the sleek, black BMW occupying the space at the tavern’s front door? With McGuire’s closed for Christmas, there were no other cars in the vicinity. As Callum pulled up in front of the luxury vehicle, Skye lowered the sun visor, pretending to check her lipstick in the small mirror. She peered at the car behind them. Nobody inside.

Had they invited other guests to share their Christmas meal?

She hoped not. Skye held her breath as they stepped beneath the black awning. It covered them like a dark cloud, and with the malignity of a demon, a sense of foreboding weaved its way into her soul.

Then Callum opened the door, and a Christmas carol rushed to her ears, bringing tidings of comfort and joy. The smell of turkey roasting in the oven and other delicious aromas that drifted across the room tickled her nose. Soft candlelight and a fire roaring in the hearth beckoned them inside from the cold. How could anyone remain apprehensive with all the trimmings of Christmas waiting?

Tavish waved at them from the bar, hurried across the room and disappeared behind the kitchen door.

Arms laden with gifts, Callum walked over to the Christmas tree that stood tall behind the decorated dinner table.

Skye counted the chairs at the table. Five. Robert, Mary, Tavish, Callum, and herself. No other guests. What was with the black car? There were no other restaurants in the immediate area.

She shrugged the question from her mind. Perhaps it had broken down.

Already, a few gifts scattered the floor beneath the tree.

Callum bent down and placed his alongside them, keeping Skye’s three gifts beside him. “Can I put yours under the tree, as well?”

“Yes, please.”

He moved the three bags in amongst the others. “You want to give me the one you’re holding onto so tight?”

She shook her head and knelt beside Callum. “It’s all right, I’ve got this one.” As she pushed Callum’s gift beneath the pine branches, her gaze fell on the exquisite red and gold wrapping of three gifts—small, medium and large. All box-shaped. The tag of the largest one stood open, beckoning her attention. My Darling Skye…

“Skye!” Mary and Robert McGuire’s voices called in unison.

The interruption prevented her from reading further. She turned.

Mary held out her arms. “Cmear, child. Gie us a guid look at yi.”

Smiling, Skye rose and hurried across the room. She flung her arms around Callum’s mother. Mary seemed shorter than she remembered, though Skye had grown up a bit since then.

Callum’s dad towered behind his wife. As soon as Mary released her, he wrapped Skye in his broad arms. He still seemed larger than life. Did nothing change with this gentle giant?

“‘Tis guid tae see yi agin, lass. Guid tae see yi.”

The moment Robert McGuire released Skye, Tavish stepped forward, grinning, clearly waiting his turn at Skye hugs. She hadn’t greeted him with one yesterday.

“Hiya.” He took her in his arms and held her there far longer than necessary.

Definitely bought the right candle for him.

After a few seconds, Callum cleared his throat. “Tavish…” Almost immediately, his voice sterner, he repeated. “Tavish! I think Skye gets that you’re glad to see her.”

Reprimanded by big brother, Tavish, still grinning, let her go.

Skye retreated to Callum who placed a protective hand around her waist. The warm, familiar feeling sent tingles down her spine.

“Noo then, urryi all hungry? Kinna serve?” Mary asked.

“Famished.” Skye and Callum’s replies were echoed by Tavish’s “Starvin’.”

“Callum, show Skye tae hur seat.” Mary turned and pointed at her husband and younger son. “The perr oh yi, cum help wae the carryin’.”

Skye stepped forward. “Can I help?”

“Och, noo. Sit yirself down.”

Skye followed Callum. How genuine had Mary McGuire’s warm greeting really been? If she were Callum’s mother, she’d be worried. Mary wouldn’t want to nurse Callum’s broken heart again. Much as Skye didn’t want to hurt him for a second time, she couldn’t guarantee that wouldn’t happen. Having both Callum and her career seemed impossible. But, she had a few months to figure it out…if he was willing to take a chance.

Callum pulled out a chair for Skye and pushed it back in as she sat. What a gentleman. Not that he hadn’t always been thoughtful, even though a little rough around the edges in his youth. He’d smoothed out somewhat. If only Mother could see him now. But really, now she knew of her mother’s probable treachery, she wasn’t sure she’d share Callum’s return into her life.

“Can I get you a drink?” He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch light.

She looked up at him. “A glass of water for now. Thank you.”

“Are you all right?”

“My throat’s dry, that’s all.”

“You sound a little hoarse. How’s that cough?”

Not really healing as she’d hoped. The hoarseness, sore throat, and coughing spasms hadn’t eased. But with a lot of water, prayer, and a bit of luck, she’d keep that fact hidden tonight. “I’m fine.”

Callum’s expression questioned her answer.

“Really, Callum. There’s no need to be concerned.”

His face lightened. “Good, because I still want to have a snowball fight with you later.”

Skye laughed. She remembered well the wars they’d had in their younger days. Afterward, they would drag themselves into McGuire’s to dry off beside the fire as Mary McGuire made hot cocoa to warm them up. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” She’d have to watch her back.

Callum strolled across to the bar.

Skye touched the ribbons on the center wreath. Hunter and McGuire tartan. Her mouth lifted at the corners. How thoughtful.

Callum returned with a bottle of water and a soft drink.

“The wreath is beautiful. How did you manage—”

“I have a good relationship with the florist.” His dark gaze bored into hers.

“Still, I’m not sure florists willy-nilly keep ribbons of both our families’ tartans.”

Opening Skye’s bottled water, Callum filled her glass. “She’s a really good florist.”

The kitchen door swung open preventing Skye’s response.

His family entered, carrying white porcelain bowls in their hands.

Skye sniffed the aroma that wafted in her direction. “Is that—”

“Cock-a-leekie soup?” Callum grinned. “Yes.”

She rubbed her hands together. She hadn’t tasted this chicken and leek soup in years. Her mother made it for a time after they returned to Australia, but stopped after she remarried. Skye focused on Mary McGuire as she neared, carrying a bowl. “With prunes?”

Mary smiled and nodded.

The soup served, they took their seats. Callum sat beside Skye on her left, his parents on the other side of the table, and Tavish sat at the head, on Skye’s right.

“Callum will you offer grace before we eat?” Mr. McGuire asked.

Callum nodded and took Skye’s hand. “Father, we want to give You thanks for this bounty You’ve provided. There are so many who go to bed hungry. Please provide for them. Thank You for the warmth of the fire and of family and friends when so many are lonely and cold. Please, give them comfort. Thank You, too, for bringing our Skye back to us. But most of all, thank You for the gift of your Son. We celebrate His birth tonight. Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone echoed.

Skye rested her chin on Callum’s shoulder and whispered. “That was a beautiful prayer.”

She dipped her spoon into the soup, brought it to her mouth and savored the taste. “Mrs. McGuire, this is delicious.”

“Please, Skye, ‘tis Mary. Mrs. McGuire’s so formal.”

It had sounded formal and odd as it rolled off Skye’s lips, but calling her Mary felt weird, too. She’d always called them Uncle Robert and Aunt Mary…but that no longer seemed right either. She guessed Mary and Robert would grow on her.

The soup soothed Skye’s throat. Perhaps she should give Callum a song between courses while the irritation in her throat had subdued.

Callum opened one of the bottles of French Bordeaux and poured them each a glass.

Mary began to clear the plates. “Ma, leave those for a while. I’ll help carry them to the kitchen when we’re ready for mains. I’d like to first propose a toast.” He lifted his glass, his gaze holding Skye’s like a magnet. “To old friendships renewed.”

They raised their glasses and chinked them together, their chorus echoing, “Old friendships.”

Robert McGuire’s deep baritone filled the tavern. “Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind.”

They all joined him, their voices blending in melody. “We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”

Callum raised his glass once more. “To Skye.” He took a sip of wine then turned to Skye. “Would you like to give us a song? Perhaps one from your upcoming opera?”

Had he read her mind? She leaned over and whispered. “I’d planned to do that, just for you.”

Setting down her napkin, Skye took her place where she and Callum had sung the night before. She’d perform the theme song first. “The Phantom of the Opera.” With no male lead, she’d have to sing her part and the Phantom’s. Clasping her hands in front of her, she took a deep breath and began.

The McGuires sat wide-eyed, enthralled. This is what she’d been born for. She gazed at Callum. Did he know it was Callum McGuire himself inside her mind? She’d not been able to think of much else since last night.

As she cut the last note, Callum sprang to his feet, clapping his hands. “Bravo. Bravo.” He rushed over to her. “That was…amazing.”

“Thank you. Of course, it sounds far better with an orchestra. If you want to come to one of the performances, I can get you complimentary tickets.”

Callum leaned closer and spoke in a soft voice. “I already bought tickets the day they went on sale. But don’t tell my family, it’s a surprise.” His warm breath sent shivers through her.

“It’ll be our secret.” Her voice croaked, and her throat felt scratchy. She needed water. She moved past Callum.

“Is that all we get?” he asked from behind.

Skye turned and smiled. “For now. I have to leave some songs for later. Besides, I can’t think of anything else at the moment other than the smell of your mother’s turkey.” She slipped back into her chair and reached for her water.

When she’d set the empty glass down, Callum’s father leaned across the table and gripped her hands. “Lassie, that wis puir deid brilliant.”

“Thank you, Mr. McGui—I mean, Robert.”

Tavish looked even more captivated than he had when she’d walked in earlier. “Yi wull sing agin fur us taenight, Skye?”

Even Mary’s body language spoke of renewed admiration. “Please,” she said, touching Skye’s arm.

“Of course, I will. The night’s still young.”

“Aye, it is. Noo, let me git the rest oh oor dinner.” Mary’s chair scraped on the wooden floor as she rose. Again she insisted Callum and Skye stay put while the rest of the family cleared the soup plates and fetched the main course.

Callum opened a second bottle of wine and replenished their glasses. Standing behind Skye, he leaned around her to fill her glass. As he withdrew, he kissed her, his lips light and soft against her cheek.

She gazed up at him.

“Thank you for the song. You were magnificent.”

Robert, Mary, and Tavish emerged from the kitchen, interrupting the moment. They carried several white serving bowls and platters of food.

A plump roasted turkey rested on the large silver platter that Mary held with both hands. She set it down beside the candlelit wreath decorating the center of the table.

Robert brought two bowls—one with roasted potatoes and parsnips, the other’s three divisions filled to the brim with Brussels sprouts, carrots and peas.

In one hand, Tavish balanced a platter of bacon rolls and chipolata sausages, and in the other he carried a silver gravy boat filled to the brim. The cranberry sauce for the turkey was already on the table.

There was something about seeing the entire meal spread out at Christmas, watching Robert carve the turkey, that made this night so special.

“Help yirselves,” Mary instructed.

Skye licked her lips. “Hmm, is that chestnut stuffing?”

Mary smiled, wiping her hands on her apron as she removed it. “Aye. Ah membered how yi luved it.”

“You made it especially for me?”

“Aye.”

Her eyes stung. Skye reached for Mary’s hand and squeezed. “I’m so touched. Thank you.”

The older woman’s mouth spread upwards. “Och…”

Dinner was even tastier than Skye had expected, and the main course far more relaxed than the soup starters had been. As the night progressed, the party grew louder and merrier, Robert entertaining with his endless wit. They’d each donned one of the colorful plastic crowns tucked beneath the Christmas crackers they’d pulled, reading the corny jokes found inside and laughing even more.

“Here’s a good one.” Callum chuckled. “What do vampires sing on New Year's Eve?” When nobody could guess correctly, he offered the answer. “Auld Fang Syne.”