Page 99 of Some Like It Scot
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. Ialwaysfailed. 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 theyshouldbe, 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 oneplace 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 whenbothof 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 inwith 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.
