Page 96 of Some Like It Scot
“He’s a very good writer,” Mirren added. “And I woudnae just say so because he’s my bairn.”
“Despite being a numpty most of the time, he’s good at encouragement and writing.” Graeme’s words emerged by my ear and sent delightful happiness spilling through me like a drug.
His voice could get me to agree to just about anything. Jubilantly.
“I’ve only ever shared it with my brother and his family, so... so it’s probably not what—”
“None of that.” Calum waved away my words. “I know—hand me your mobile, and I’ll add my email address.” He held out his palm, gaze switching from me to Graeme, almost in challenge.
“None ofthat,” Graeme growled.
“Are you serious, Calum?” I laughed my surprise. “Youwantto read it?”
“Cross my heart.” He made the motion. “And you’d better take the offer because I’m only serious on special occasions.”
“Truer words...,” Mirren added, topping off Calum’s coffee.
“Okay. If you’re sure.” Was I ready to have someone besides Brett read—and possibly critique—my stories? “I... I could share my document with you, and then you can transfer it to whatever device you need.”
“Aye, that’ll work.” And he rattled off his email—which I hastily entered into my phone—then winked, clearly pleased with himself.“And I just turned in a book, so I’m keen to have something new to read.”
“Stop latherin’ on the charm.” Graeme shook his head. “She’s too smart to fall for your ways. You’re pure gallus, you are.”
“Och, away with you both.” Mirren stood, waving her napkin at the two men. “Katie and I’ll wash up to get away from you lot, while you set up the room for some music.”
Music? I took the last drink of my water, picked up my plate, and followed Mirren into the kitchen, taking my place drying dishes as she washed.
It was simple. Should have been drudgery.
But I’m pretty sure I grinned like the idiot I was through the whole thing as Mirren talked about growing up on an island east of Scotland called Skymar, then meeting Kenneth.
“Where did Lachlan get such red hair?” I asked, taking a bowl as the strains of a fiddle began playing from the next room. I turned toward the sound, the music drawing out my grin. “Ah, that’d be Calum. He also plays the bagpipes, of course.” Her smile crinkled. “Graeme plays the guitar, so you’re bound to hear it—” A guitar joined in with the fiddle, playing a lively tune that sounded a lot like the bluegrass music back in the Blue Ridge Mountains. “Lachlan’ll join in with his banjo and Kenneth on the bass.”
“How wonderful.” I laughed, listening as each instrument picked up pace into some Scottish melody I thought I’d heard at the Highland games.
“Lachlan got his ginger hair from my side of the family.” She handed me a glass. “Peter, our youngest, has the same.”
I didn’t know much about Peter, except that he was attending seminary somewhere on Skymar, the island Mirren had just mentioned.
“And Greer,” Mirren continued, holding out another glass for me. “She had a wee bit of red in her hair, but it was mixed in with thedarker brown. Beautiful though. Long and healthy like yours until the chemotherapy started.”
Greer. The name carried the same indefinable presence as Sarah’s.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just took the next glass.
“She played the fiddle too.” Mirren’s smile never waned. “And had the voice of an angel.” She chuckled. “I s’pose she truly does now.” She held out a bowl. “What about you, Katie? Do you play any instruments?”
And the conversation moved right along. Without a fight or breakdown or tongue-lashing. Greer slid in and out of the sentences as if they talked about her regularly. As if she might walk into the room any minute.
“I... can play the guitar a little, but I mostly learned so that I could best my brother.”
Mirren chuckled. “’Tis the way of it with girls with brothers, isn’t it?” She dried her hands. “They tend to foster a strong constitution and either a good sense of humor or a constant state of mistrust.”
I laughed. Accurate. “Very true.”
“Greer had a good sense of humor, like you.” She pointed her towel toward me before tossing it onto the counter. “Evidence of brothers and a wee bit of a cheerful heart, I’d say.” With that, she slipped her arm around my waist. “Now let’s see what the lads are up to.”
We walked into the living room where the chairs had been pushed back to make an open space on the floor.
