Page 51 of Grace on the Rocks

Wesley’s face brightened and then she gaveGracea sultry look. “Iknew this island was going to be good for you.”

ChapterFourteen

It tookBryantwo more days to talk himself into tea with his family.Heavoided it for a while by diving deep into solar manuals and wiring.Oncethe system was online and storing all the glorious summer sunshine, he disappeared down the beach to his favorite secluded hideaway, far from resentful neighbors, but also a safe distance from brown eyes and the witty retorts ofAmericanlibrarians who recognized dyslexia but didn’t judge.

Judgment, he was used to.Itwas her empathy he didn’t know how to handle.

Finally, though,Sundayafternoon arrived, and he couldn’t hermit any longer.Likea prisoner bound for the gallows, he plodded with heavy, sand-covered boots back to the house.Heshowered and trimmed his beard, even ironed his best shirt: a paisley number that looked smart with charcoal corduroys.Heselected an unopened bottle ofArdbegRionnagachand walked the long way through town to reach his parents’ house, trying to relax his shoulders from their preemptive hunch.

It was only a family meal.He’dsat at the same table biting his tongue thousands of times.

AuntieEilidhwould throw barbs at random to keep them on their toes, and everyone else would be polite for the sake of the grandchildren.MaybeEòghannwould be there making wry faces at him across the table like old times.Hecould do this.

As he dragged himself up the ramp he and his grandad had built forTeàrlachall those years ago,Bryanreached reflexively in his pocket for the worry stone, but of course, the pocket was empty.Hehadn’t even picked up the airport fidget spinner, more’s the pity.Hecould do this, but he’d be doing it alone.

He rang the bell, and two children he knew from photographs raced to the door with a sheep dog he didn’t recognize at all.

“You’re late,” the girl,Sara, complained.

“Your ma said four o’clock sharp,”Bryantold her.Shejust shrugged.

“You’re ’posed to say, ‘Fifteenyears late,’ ” her little brother,Sam, told her.

Christ.They’dindoctrinated the children to hate him.

“Good one,” he replied. “Yourgrandad teach you that?”

Sam, grinned and nodded.

“Gran said he wasn’t allowed to say it himself,”Saravolunteered.

“Your delivery was flawless,”BryantoldSam.

“Have you brought us a present?”Saraasked.

“No,” he admitted, after double-checking his pockets to make sure he didn’t have any sweeties hidden away. “ShouldIhave?”

They both nodded angelically, with big green eyes that matchedCait’s.

“I’ll try to do better next time,” he promised, and they stood aside to let him in.

“The prodigal son returns,” his younger sister said from the hallway, where she leaned against the wall watching him meet his niece and nephew for the first time.

“El,” he whispered, relieved to see a friendly face, and she opened her arms for him to sink into.

Elspeth was six years younger and had visited him a few times inGlasgowand a few more onIslayover the years, despite his abandoning her the moment he reached his majority.ItwasElwho texted him pictures of the kids, becauseManever quite got the hang of smart phones andCaitsaid if he wanted to see them, he could joinFacebookor come home.ItwasElwho had let him know whenGrandadwas in a bad way.

She took his free hand and led him into the living room, where his father stood by the fireplace, the same tall, imposing figureBryanremembered, and yet somehow smaller too.

“Is that my nephew?”AuntEilidhcalled from her corner rocking chair, one of the matched setBryan’sgrandad had made just for her.

“It’s me,Auntie,” he said, turning to face her.Hewas stunned to find his blonde house guest kneeling at her side watchingEilidhmendEòghann’sjumper.

Wes waved at him awkwardly.Sothen wasGracehere somewhere too?

“I hardly recognize you,”Eilidhsaid.

“The whiskers?” he asked, running a hand over his face, which suddenly felt like teenage scruff instead of the distinguished look he’d been cultivating.

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