Page 73 of Some Like It Scot
I rolled my shoulders to keep them from stiffening at the assumption, or was she hitting too close to the mark? “I’m not hiding it.” I filled the kettle with water. “It’s all there online.”
“Okay then...” She turned those large eyes on me, one ginger brow raised. “You hide yourself?”
Myself? Paired with my thoughts from earlier, I felt God was hammering the point home a little too repeatedly. I almost groaned. But my stubborn head likely needed repetition.
“Though being invisible is a perfect butler move, from what I hear. And it adds a sense of mystery.”
Her humor eased the sudden tension in my neck but didn’t ease my mind. One of Allison’s arguments resurfaced.“You and your parents never leave Mull, Graeme. You tie yourself to this island like the outside world will swallow you up if you leave. I need room for more. And I think you do too.”
I’d gone to university in Inverness and traveled to doctor’s appointments on the mainland with Greer. My thoughts came to a halt, confirming my earlier revelation. I’d never been the traveling sort, but since Greer... I’d changed.
No wonder I wasn’t a hero. They were bold, daring. They faced their fears.
Had I let Greer’s death kill something inside me too, and in the grieving process I’d turned things around? Into a lie I now believed?
Katie moved to another sculpture. One of my favorites I’d made for Greer three years ago when she’d first gotten her cancer diagnosis. A shepherd cradling a lamb. I’d carved it with care to communicate to my best friend that no matter the storm, she was held safe. It became as much a comfort to me as to her. A reminder of the truth when I lost faith so many times along the way.
As Greer had said, “Graeme, it’s not about your hold on God. It’s about His hold on you.”
And I’d never both challenged and understood that truth more than the last few months of her life and the year after her death. I’d let go so often, raised my fists to the sky, refused to pray. And yet, God held on to my broken heart until the raw, cracked-wide grief began to heal. Even now, as it continued to heal. Every day.
And as strange and braw as it seemed, God had brought Katie into my life to remind me of things my heart once knew. Once believed it wanted.
I poured the hot water from the kettle over the tea leaves into a teapot my granny used to use. Greer too. My history was all aroundme. Everywhere. My job and family too. Could it be that I’d closed myself in with my trusted few as a way to shield myself from the hurt of Greer’s loss and Allison’s leaving? Tucked myself away from the world to “protect” my heart? But those things—my family and home—were never meant to be shields. Not from living life.
Why had I not considered it until now? Had it truly taken some American travel writer from across the world literally falling into my life to get my attention?
Katie smoothed her thumb over the lamb’s head and glanced over at me. “I think I could handle a sheep like that... small and sweet.” Her voice shook a little.
“Not a fan of sheep?” I swallowed through the hoarseness in my voice.
“They’re not fans of me. Although I can completely understand the biblical analogy as I’m so prone to wander and clearly”—she shrugged a shoulder—“lose my way.”
Biblical analogy? That reference, along with some of her other comments, piqued my curiosity. “If you’re also prone to search for a place of worship, you may want to steer clear of the church in Glenkirk.”
She wrinkled her nose with her frown. “Already been.”
I grunted my thoughts. She’d only been in Mull a week, so she must have visited this past Sunday. Very purposeful.
“It was a pretty small crowd, and nobody talked to me.” She raised her palms in defense. “I get that I’m a stranger, but I was hoping for a little camaraderie among kindred spirits. It’s what I loved most about my grandparents’ church—that sense of family.” She slid down in a chair at my little table, and the sight warmed my heart. “Good teaching, good people.” She wiggled her brows. “And lots of eating.”
I coughed out a laugh and poured her tea, pushing the plate of biscuits toward her. “With those preferences in mind, I have a place for you to try then.”
“Really?”
“’Tis called Livingston Chapel and it’s just beyond Glenkirk. We use an older building, but the congregation is fairly new within the last ten years.”
“We?” Her brows rose as she watched me and then took a drink of her tea. “That’s your church?”
“Aye.” My lips twitched. “God’s not finished knocking the eejit from my head just yet, as you, no doubt, have noticed from my agitation at times. I need the help.”
“Don’t we all?” Her smile spread across those lovely pink lips and brightened her eyes in a fascinating way. “Sounds like the kind of place I should certainly visit, because I’m pretty sure there’s still some eejit to knock out of me too.”
***
Katie
Classes didn’t start until after lunch on Wednesday, so I took the opportunity for a morning walk since the sun shone fresh upon the wet ground, beckoning for some photos. After yesterday’s storm, the already lush colors of Mull shimmered in richer hues.
