Sunday turned out different from the day before, not as warm, the sea rough and restless.
Ian carried the picnic basket from the Jeep to a picnic table near the sand, inhaling the scent of sea. The salty breeze stirred up a damp fish smell that hung on the air like an old fishing net.
Emily helped Grace unpack the food without saying much.
Aunt Grace served Ian a tiny sandwich on a paper plate. He thanked her and popped it into his mouth, continuing his silent observation of the old woman. She’d worked for over an hour on the picnic lunch, insisting on doing it all herself. How oddly she’d behaved only hours before, and how quickly she’d returned to her right mind. Was it dementia? How often did she have those sorts of moments?
And what if Grace had accepted Maggie’s earlier invitations to move back home? No doubt he would be dealing with an entirely new problem now, one needing an entirely new solution.
“Are you warm enough, Aunt Grace?” Emily asked.
“Aye, dearie.” Grace smiled, then frowned at Ian’s empty plate and served him another sandwich. “Maggie is the brave one. Och, she would have fancied that whaling boat yesterday.”
“That’s a dead cert.” Ian disposed of the second mini-sandwich in one bite. Grace probably meant whale-watching boat, but there was no need to correct her. Maggie would boldly board either type of vessel. And take the helm.
“But I didn’t see any whales. I was too busy holding on.”
“What?” Emily set down her cup and stared at the old woman. “What do you mean ‘holding on’? How rough was it?”
“Ooh, just some waves, I only had to hold on once or twice.” Grace turned to Ian, her furrowed brow matching the worry in her eyes. “Are ye going to tell Maggie about that?”
Ian knew little of Grace, but he knew Maggie well enough. She detested weakness of any sort. Either Grace feared worrying Maggie, or she was afraid of losing face to her younger sister. There was one way to find out.
“Certainly. I can tell her your whale-boat story, if you like.”
“No! Er ... perhaps it would be best not to share everything with her.” Grace’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “About the boat, I mean. I wouldnae want her to worry.”
Ian frowned. “You think Maggie will worry?”
“Ooh, dear me.” She gave a slow, grave shake of the head. “I’d never hear the end of it.”
A sigh escaped him as the full weight of his stupidity sank in. How had he not seen it? Maggie ruled everyone, including her sister, regardless of distance or time spent apart. Grace could no more control Maggie than she could single-handedly win the Battle of Bannockburn. Which, in some respects, wasn’t much different.
His brilliant plan to have Grace corral Maggie had made such perfect sense—when he’d first formed it. Now that he’d gotten to know Grace and observed her limitations, his plan ranked as one of the stupidest ideas he’d ever had.
“Now then.” Grace aimed conspirator’s eyebrows at him. “Do ye have more stories for us about Maggie?”
Ian grunted. “Loads. But perhaps I best not share everything. I’m sure Maggie wouldn’t want you to worry.”
Grace patted his arm.
Emily frowned hard into her Styrofoam cup, then looked up and met his gaze.
He would speak to her soon, in private, and put her mind at ease about his abandoned plans to invite Grace to move home. No doubt Grace and Maggie would’ve enjoyed a happy reunion, had Grace been able to come. But happiness alone would not keep Maggie MacLean out of trouble. And Grace was certainly in no condition to keep the old hen under control. Though he respected his great-aunt’s dignity and admired her kindness, the day’s events had made one thing clear: He would not be leaving Maggie in the care of Grace Clark.
Emily finally convinced her aunt she’d had enough wind and it was time to go inside.
As they gathered up the picnic, Grace stopped and turned to Ian. “You know, we might’ve met sooner, Ian, when Thomas and I went home to work in Glasgow for a wee spell. But Maggie said ye were living in London that year.”
“What year was—” Ian stiffened and looked toward the stretch of beach to the north.
Emily took in his profile, the way he held himself, his clenched jaw, and a wave of pity washed over her. That was probably the year his wife died.
After an awkward silence, Ian’s attention shifted back to Grace. “Maggie said you and Thomas had worked at the university. So you were only back in Scotland for a short time, then?”
“Aye. It was good to see my homeland again. But I couldnae stay there, knowing poor Emmy was all alone here, without her dear mum.” She turned to Emily. “So we came back. I wanted to be here with ye.”
Emily stopped packing food and stared at her aunt. “You did?”
Grace smiled. “My home is wherever my heart is, child. And my heart is with ye.”
You left your home, moved across the world, for me? Emily held her breath, but that didn’t stop the rush of guilt that threatened to choke her.
The old woman patted Emily’s hand.
Emily reached around and gave her aunt a hug. In the span of two heartbeats, she knew exactly what she needed to do. She resumed packing the picnic basket, gathering the nerve to back what she was about to say. “So, I guess after your extreme, high-sea adventure, it’s a good thing you’re going to Scotland by plane.”
Ian froze in the middle of taking an enormous bite of chocolate chip cookie. “She is?”
Grace’s broad smile illuminated her whole face. “I’m going to Scotland now?”
“Yeah. Well, not right now.” When her aunt’s face fell, Emily winced. “But soon, I promise. I should’ve taken you for a visit long before now.” Her voice faltered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Ah, child, dinna worry yer wee head now.” Grace patted Emily’s arm. “We only come and go as the good Lord wills.”
Around his mouthful of cookie, Ian mumbled, “She’s coming to Scotland?”
Emily pulled in a deep breath, lifted her chin and nodded. “Yes, we are. For a visit.” She waited for his satisfied smile, a victory fist pump, something.
Ian’s face darkened into an alarmed frown. “We?”
Stifling a yawn, Ian braced himself for the long ride back to Juniper Valley. The balmy weather had drawn a swarm of visitors to the beach, a swarm that was now exiting the coast region simultaneously and funneling into a single lane of stop-and-go on the eastbound highway.
While Emily navigated the road, Ian closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Like the traffic, all his thoughts converged into a single thread. Kind, forgetful old Grace could not solve his dilemma, and there was no one else who would live with Maggie. Ian tried to picture himself traveling the world while Maggie lived alone on the farm.
Fat chance. He didn’t have to try to imagine the potential for mayhem. He’d seen it. Most likely, he would have to forget the feature-series job. And worse, forget about leaving the farm for quite a while. His plans rained down round him like a collapsing house of cards. He blasted out a deep breath.
“Tired?” Emily asked.
He glanced at her face.
Her brown eyes twinkled above little, round sunglasses perched partway down her nose, and beneath them a smile dazzled. By the end of their picnic with Grace, Emily’s pensive mood had vanished like morning fog in the afternoon sun.
Ian shrugged. “Not much.” He fought another yawn and failed.
She chuckled. “Ian, if you want to sleep, go ahead. You’ll need all the sleep you can get before your early morning drive to the airport anyway. Lean your seat back. Go for it.”
A tempting offer. He drew in a deep breath. “Emily, that odd incident with Grace this morning—what was that?”
Lips pressed tight, Emily shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve been talking to her doctor and he’s watching her, but without some extensive testing, he can’t say for sure. It could be dementia. He also mentioned—” She frowned.
“What?”
“Possibly the early stages of Alzheimer’s.” Her voice dropped on the last word.
Alzheimer’s? Far more serious than a few bouts of memory loss and, eventually, a wretched end. “Why haven’t you told Maggie?”
Emily darted a sideways glance at him, then focused on the slowing fuel truck ahead.
Ian waited. He had learned a number of things about Emily in the past forty-eight hours. Like how careful she was concerning the feelings of others.
“For a while, her doctor thought the memory lapses might be a temporary effect from the stroke. If that was the case, there was no point worrying Maggie for nothing.” She checked over her shoulder and changed lanes to pass the truck. “But it’s been getting worse, not better. I guess I should’ve told Maggie sooner. It’s just ... so hard to actually say.”
“No, I understand.” He frowned. “But now you’re bringing her to Scotland?”
“Yeah. For a visit.”
“How long?”
Emily kept her eyes on the road. “I don’t know. Traveling overseas will probably be a drain on her strength. I think we need to stay long enough for her to recover from the trip. And of course, to give her enough time with Maggie and to see everything she wants to see. Maybe a few weeks, if I can get the time off from the ranch. How does that sound?”
Until he found a way to manage Maggie, he wasn’t going anywhere. “Fine. But what made you change your mind? Why are you making the trip now?”
Like a soft shadow, something stole over her. A look of resolution, sad yet peaceful. “I owe it to her, Ian.” Her voice softened. “I’m doing it for her—for both of them. I want them to be happy, just like you do. I only hope this visit is enough for Maggie.”
“Maggie?”
“Yeah. You’ve worked hard to care for her and are so thoughtful of her needs.” Drawing a deep breath, she seemed to be collecting her nerve. “I’ve been trying to make Grace as happy as possible, but maybe I was protecting her for the wrong reasons. I’ve lost everyone else, you know?” She darted a quick look at him and back at the road. Though the sunglasses partially hid her eyes, they didn’t hide the sadness in her voice. “It was totally selfish of me not to take her back home.”
Something sunk in his gut like a rock. If you’re selfish for fearing Grace’s harm, then I’m evil incarnate. “You’re not selfish.”
“Yeah, I am. You’ve gone out of your way to help them be together. I owe it to Aunt Grace to step up and do the same.”
Ian stared straight ahead, stunned. His plans had been about helping no one but himself. Perhaps he should confess his real motives on the spot and stop letting her believe lies about him. Make sure she knew what a self-serving jerk he was. And as a bonus, make sure she thoroughly hated him before he left for home.
And how would she respond?
You were going to all this trouble for yourself? You wanted Grace to move across the world to manage Maggie so you could be free to go off on your own?
Well, perhaps that particular part of the story could wait until after he’d gone home. At least by keeping it to himself, he would avoid seeing the disappointment in her face.
Not that Emily Chapman’s opinion of him mattered.