Been In Love Before: A Novel (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The two brothers waited impatiently outside the tuxedo store for Eian and Mickey to arrive.

Robert looked at his watch. “He’s late again. Damn him.” He nearly spit out the words.

“Bob, he’ll be here. You can count on it. Free food. Mary Katherine said Mickey’s paying for dinner.” He continued to pace around the front of the small storefront at Duke’s Tuxedo Shop. “Wait, here they come. Both of ’em,” said Ryan nervously. How was he going to let Robert know that Mickey was a Campbell? Robert seemed agitated for some reason.
Why?

“Hey, guys, look who I ran into,” said Eian.

“Hey, Mickey, good to see you again. Let’s go inside and get measured,” said Ryan as they all shook hands and quickly went inside. He was anxious to keep everything moving. No time for small talk.

Robert was measured first, then Mickey. Eian was followed by Ryan, who tried his best to keep Mickey away from Robert.

The portly salesman who did double duty as the tailor told them, “Gentlemen, your tuxedos will be ready Friday, or you can get them Saturday, the morning of the wedding. If you have any questions, feel free to call me.”

“I hope we have better luck here than the first tuxedo place,” said Eian.

“You mean the one that went out of business?” said Ryan.

“Yeah. That one.” They all laughed.

Dinner was held at a nearby Irish pub, and when the evening was finally over, they said good night to Mickey and said they would see him at the rehearsal. On their way home, Ryan said, “Nice fellow, isn’t he?

“Yeah . . . for a Campbell.”

What?
He knew. He must have known all along.

“Robert, put it behind you, all of it. Let it lie.”

“Never. He’s a Campbell, and that’s all there is to it, but I wasn’t about to shame our family tonight and say something about it.”

“When did you find out?”

“At the tuxedo store. I overheard Mickey say something to the tailor about being a Campbell and how he would love to wear the traditional Highlander kilt—the nerve. I’m surprised at you, hiding all that about him. And disappointed. Good night, Ryan.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

It was an early-morning flight. Eian had not been able to get a direct flight to California and had to change planes in Cleveland and was delayed there due to bad weather. He waited an hour, until they said the flight would not leave for another three hours. He was going to arrive in California late. He should call Paula, he thought to himself, and let her know so she would not worry. His phone rang. “Hello?”

“Mr. Macgregor, this is Gentry, I work for our general manager, Todd Andersen. You and I spoke on the phone, and I was the one who arranged the tickets for you to come to the grand opening of our new training facility here in California.”

“Oh yes, Gentry. I’m stuck at the airport in Cleveland, but I should be there for the opening tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s what I was calling about. We had a minor glitch.”

“What’s up?”

“We had some terrible weather here, with lots and lots of rain. It caused the roof of the new facility to cave in and flood everything. We’re going to have to push back the opening by at least a month. I feel really bad.”

Eian, for some reason, felt relieved.

“I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to postpone your visit. I’ll be back in touch just as soon as we have a new date. We’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“No problem. Call me.” He was off the hook. Now to call Paula. He dialed her number, and suddenly he didn’t know what to say as he heard her voice. “Hey, I was just thinking about you. Where are you?”

“Cleveland. My plane was delayed by about four hours.”

“Well, okay . . . call and let me know when you think you’ll be here. We’ll still have plenty of time. My husband doesn’t come home for at least a week.”

“Husband?” he nearly shouted as he squirmed in his seat.
She has a husband?

“Yeah, you remember, I told you I got remarried but kept my maiden name. At least I thought I told you.”

“No, you didn’t. You told me you were married before but it didn’t work out.”

“It doesn’t matter; I’ll tell you all about it when you get here. In the meantime, I have the champagne on ice, chocolate-covered strawberries in the fridge, and my black-lace nightie on . . . all waiting to be unwrapped by you.”

He heard a loud announcement in the background, but it wasn’t about his flight.

“Was that your flight?”

“Yes,” he lied. “It’s been canceled. Next flight is out tomorrow.” Then he thought about what he was saying and finally said, “Hey, Paula . . . I have to tell you . . . I don’t think this is going to work out. You and me. Maybe it would have in another time, other circumstances. You know? I’m sorry.”

“What? Eian, are you saying you’re not coming?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“I had some really nice things planned for us to do. I mean, really nice. I spent a lot of time . . . and money putting it all together, just for the two of us. Nothing I can say to change your mind?”

“No, I’m sorry, Paula.”

“Me too, Mac. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

He smiled to himself. Yes, he did.

“You take care of yourself,” she said before the phone connection went dead.

He caught the next flight back home to Florida, and as he left the airport, he dialed Rose’s phone number. He could not wait to hear her voice.

“Hello? Mac?”

“Hi, Rose. My trip was canceled.”

“Where are you?”

“Just leaving the West Palm Beach airport. You know, I was thinkin’, I’m starvin’. Do you want to join me for some dinner? We can finish our conversation from yesterday.”

“Yeah, I would like that.”

“Pick you up in an hour?”

“Sure.”

“Great. See you then.” He started to hang up but shouted her name, “Rose?” Nothing. “Rose?”

“Yeah, Mac? What’d you forget?”

“Forget?” His voice dropped to a low tone, one she could hardly hear. “I forgot to ask you . . . do you want to go to my niece’s wedding, with me . . . Saturday?”

“This Saturday? Mac, that’s hardly any notice at all.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. You probably already have plans for this weekend, and it’s short notice, and I’m a real jerk for waiting so long to ask you. I understand, but I thought . . .”

“I’d love to go with you, Mac. See you in an hour.”

“Great. See you then.”

He was now the happiest man alive. He was going to the wedding—with Rose!

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“Mother?” Diane hollered from the first floor, looking up the steps. She was worried about her, as she had appeared distracted at the office. Something was troubling her. “Mother?” she said with a certain insistence that only daughters could muster. Still no answer. “Moth—”

“Out here, Di,” a voice sounded from the kitchen. She walked through the house and sniffed the air. She could almost taste the flavor of fresh-baked cookies and warm bread. Her mother was an excellent baker, though baking was something Diane had never been able to master.

The huge kitchen was filled with stacks of cookies, loaves of bread, and croissants that filled the counter. Six pies of various sizes and flavors were on a nearby cooling rack by the open kitchen window. Apple-cinnamon crusts, blueberry scones, and strawberry tarts were scattered about the country kitchen. Diane grabbed a couple of cookies. Delicious and still warm.

The room smelled heavenly. Copper pots and pans, long spoons, and spatulas hung from a ceiling rack above Coleen’s work area. In the center of the kitchen was a long granite countertop perfect for baking and rolling cookies. It was something she had had installed years earlier.

“Mother, what on earth are you doing? What’s going on? What is all this? Are you opening a bakery or something?”

“No,” her mother said, stopping long enough to take a sip from her glass of white wine before she opened the oven door and retrieved a fresh batch of lemon sugar cookies from inside. “Just keeping busy, that’s all. Just need to put this last load of cookies in. Pour some wine for yourself and pull up a chair.”

Diane had seen her mother like this once before, when her father died; she had fallen to pieces and gone on an eighteen-hour baking marathon. She dutifully opened the refrigerator and poured them each some wine.

“Okay, tell me what’s going on,” she said as she unbuttoned her suit jacket and kicked off her high-heeled shoes. “What’s going on here?”

Her mother sat down on a stool next to her. “It’s about Mac . . . he lied to me.”

“What do you mean he lied? He doesn’t seem like the type. What happened?”

“You know he gave me a gold puffed heart with a red ruby in the center?”

“Yes, I know, you wear it all the time and . . .” Her daughter noticed it no longer hung about her neck.

“When we were out the other night, he dropped his wallet, and when he picked it up he showed me a picture of his deceased wife.” She stopped and could not go on. Diane hugged her to encourage her, to release the pain she was obviously feeling.

“She had on the heart. He gave me the same heart he gave his first wife. I saw a picture of her wearing it. He said I was special, but he lied to me.” She was nearly in tears as she drained her glass of wine and reached for the bottle to refill the glass.

“He made me feel different,” she said between her tears. “I felt I was the only one in the world. He told me that I was his heart and soul and I could feel the rhythms of his heart. He even put my hand on his chest for me to feel it beating. Now I wonder if he said the same things to her? And who else has he said it to?” Tears were running down her cheeks; her makeup was a river of black lines on her face. “Diane, what am I going to do? I love that old Scotsman, and I thought he loved me, but now . . .”

“Mom, I’m sure he does. Just in his own way, that’s all.”

“Well, I have to tell you, I haven’t talked to him since Sunday. And I miss it, I miss him, but I just can’t bring myself to call him. I just can’t do it. What am I going to do?”

Diane plucked some tissues from the box and handed her a few. “First, clean up your makeup. Second, pour some more wine. Third, call him . . . just don’t do it today. Sleep on it, and then call him tomorrow. For now, let’s cut up one of these wonderful pies! Oh, and Mom, check the stove, I think I smell something burning.”

Chapter Forty

“Claret! Woman, what’s with all those bags on the floor here in the bedroom?” he bellowed, glancing at the suitcases stacked by the hallway door near the top of the steps.

“Angus, I told you before, I’m going to my son’s wedding with you . . . or without you. Today is Thursday, the rehearsal is tomorrow, the wedding is Saturday, and I plan to be there for it.”

There was no one more stubborn than a hardheaded Scotsman, unless . . . it was a determined Scotswoman, and Claret was one of the finest. She loved him and respected him, but sometimes she had to remind him who really was the boss in the family.

Angus turned and walked away. He returned an hour later holding up his tuxedo in one hand and his kilt in the other. “Which one should I bring, dear?”

She walked to him, gently smoothing the snowy-white hair on the side of his head. “Bring them both, dear heart.”

“I’m sorry, you were right,” he said meekly. “I love you, Claret.”

“I love you too—you obstinate Scotsman,” she said, gently touching the gold puffed heart that hung around her neck, the one he had given her so many years earlier. “Remember, he’s our only son, and he craves your love and respect. Don’t be afraid to give it to him and to those he loves. I don’t want to lose him. We’ve already lost one son; I don’t want to lose another.” She kissed him and draped her arm around his neck. “I love you,” she repeated.

He held her tight. This would not be easy, but he knew what he had to do. He loved that boy like his own. He would make it work, if not for his sake, then for everyone else’s, especially Claret’s.

Chapter Forty-One

Robert picked Patti up at home and drove to her see his new house. He wanted his daughter-in-law’s opinion of the new place before he signed the final papers.

She slowly exited the truck. Her back was aching, and it was becoming more and more difficult for her to stand up straight. She paused and took in a deep breath, massaging her lower back. She stood and admired the house. It was a two-story home surrounded by tall banyan trees, which provided welcome relief from the hot Florida sun.

“It’s a nice house, Dad. Mom would’ve loved it,” she said as they walked through the graceful home, set back from the street. They walked through the entire house, and the more she saw of it, the more she thought it was perfect. The upstairs was cozy, with a bedroom, bathroom, and den. Back downstairs, she looked through the rear window and saw the lake outside.

“Oh, and the lake is lovely,” she said, holding her belly. She had walked too much and now glanced around the room, searching for a chair so she could sit down and rest her aching back and feet.

Robert was quickly at her side. “Come here in the kitchen and sit down. I don’t want anything to happen to you . . . or my future grandson.” He pulled the chair from the table and helped her sit down.

“Better?” he asked as she eased into the chair. She was the daughter he had never had, and he appreciated that she always said exactly what was on her mind. He loved her and would do anything for her.

“Much better. Thanks, Dad,” she responded, watching him. “What’s wrong? You’ve been distracted since you picked me up.”

He was quiet for minute and then said, “No one else knows yet but . . . I’m not going to Graw’s wedding, that’s all.”

“Why the heavens not?”

“He’s a Campbell, the same clan that tried to obliterate the Macgregors from the face of the globe for hundreds of years,” he said quietly.

“What? What do you mean?”

“The king of Scotland, James the Sixth, issued an edict that proclaimed that the name of MacGregor was to be abolished. It meant that anyone who bore the name of MacGregor must renounce their name publicly or be hung.” He paused to catch his breath.

“Campbell clans took the lead and hunted the MacGregors in the moors, in the mountains and the valleys, and then murdered them like wild animals. The MacGregor clan was scattered to the four winds, with many being forced to take other names like Murray or Grant. Even the horrible Scottish parliament got involved and abolished the name of MacGregor and shunned all those who bore it. The Campbells were behind it all. But can you believe it, even with all of that, the MacGregors still fought for the king of Scotland during the Scottish Civil War?”

“Dad, I know my Scottish history. That was in 1603, and I’m sure Mickey was not around then, and neither were you. He had nothing to do with it. Let it go, please. You’re still alive, aren’t you, and you certainly don’t look over a hundred years old?” she said, trying to make light of it. He needed to see it as it was—an old feud. “Mary Kate means a whole lot more than some festering feud that happened hundreds of years ago. Mickey seems like a real nice guy, and they love each other. That’s all that counts. Isn’t it?”

He was quiet.

She paused before saying, “You do what you want, but I know that it would break Mary Kate’s heart if you weren’t there for her wedding.” His mind seemed made up, and she knew she could not alter his perception of reality. Changing the subject, she said thoughtfully, “Dad, this is a lovely house. You have four bedrooms, an unfinished basement downstairs that you can build out if you like, and a nice workshop in the garage. The yard is large enough so we can have family cookouts here and Thanksgiving dinners, the way you always like to do. And during the holidays, you can throw a big Christmas log onto the fireplace. Yeah, it’ll be real nice.”

She patted his hand. “Everything will work out fine, trust me. It’s perfect. It has everything you need.”

“Everything except someone to share it with,” he added quietly.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number, and after a few moments he hung up and tossed his phone on the kitchen counter. His face said it all. “I guess she’s out. Somewhere.”

“Coleen?”

“Yes.” He was silent, and she could tell he was struggling.

“Something happened when we were last together. I must have done something wrong or said something wrong or . . . gee, I don’t know. And now I can’t even get through to her. At the office, they say she’s unavailable. At home she won’t take my calls. It’s been days, and I’ve heard nothing from her. I miss her.”

She could tell he was in pain. She reached out to hold his hand. “I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for it all. Wait, you’ll see.”

He smiled at her, then stood watching some young boys at the back of the property fishing from the old wooden boat dock. He saw them bait the fishhooks and cast their lines far out into the lake. He watched them fish as he began to pace in front of the window.

Finally he said, “Will you be okay here if I go out and talk to them for a few minutes? I just want to see what kind of fish they’re catching and what they use for bait.”

“Sure, I’ll be fine. You go ahead. I’m just going to sit here and watch.”

“I won’t be long. I’ll be right back. Five minutes.”

Patti saw him walk down the hill toward the lake and wave at the kids as he approached them. Once there, he sat on the grass as he watched them fish and talked to them.

She took off her shoes and began to massage her swollen, aching feet. Nothing helped; she could never get any relief no matter what she did. Her feet always hurt, and her back ached no matter how she slept or walked or sat.
Everything
ached.

The baby kicked, and then kicked again and again.
Oh no. Not now, not here, please.
She sat perfectly still, rubbing her belly. “It’s okay, everything will be fine, dear heart,” she whispered. “Take all the time you need . . . but I’m sure ready whenever you are.”

The house was quiet as she sat and looked around. It had a warm, comfortable feel to it.
This will be a good house for him,
she thought as his phone rang and vibrated across the countertop. It rang again. She turned to look for him; he was still engrossed in discussion with the young boys down by the lake. She picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID; it read C
OLEEN
C
ALLAHAN
.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Hello? Mac?”

“No, I’m sorry, he’s not here at the moment. He just stepped out for a minute,” she said, trying to stand to wave at him but thinking better of it and sitting back down.

“Oh,” came the disappointed reply.

“This is Patti, his very pregnant daughter-in-law. I’m sure he’ll only be a few minutes. He just went outside.”

“Hi, this is Coleen. I’m an old friend of Mac’s.”

“Hi. Nice to meet you. He has spoken very fondly of you, which is not something that he does about most people. Some call him crotchety, but I just love him to death.” She heard her laugh.

“Well, he’s never been crotchety with me. As matter of fact, he’s been nothing but kind, sweet, caring, and . . .” Her voice went silent. “I miss him, Patti; God knows I miss him.”

“Coleen, I can tell you he hasn’t been the same over the last couple days. I would have to say he misses you too, but I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever is going on between the two of you.” The phone went silent again. She heard a sigh on the other end.

“Patti, he gave me a gold puffed heart for my birthday, one with . . .”

“A small red ruby in the center?” Patti finished the sentence for her.

“Yes! How did you know?”

“It is a very special Scottish symbol to give as a gift to someone you love.”

“Well, I saw a picture of his wife, and she was wearing the same gold heart. He always tells me about how I am the rhythm of his heart, and now I start to imagine him saying the same things to her. I felt special before, but now I feel betrayed, like . . . he was lying to me. I don’t know what to do.”

Patti took in a deep breath, and said, “Robert Macgregor is a good man. One that you can count on when the going gets rough; you know that he’ll always be there for you, no matter what. Mac gave you the heart because that is the only way he knows how to tell you that he loves you.” She stopped. Was she going too far? She didn’t want to interfere.

Coleen was quiet. Patti pressed on cautiously.

“For a Scotsman, it’s a symbol of him giving his heart to you. Think about it . . . what more can he give you?” She became silent.

“Coleen, he’s a good man, one of the best that I know”—she paused to chuckle—“but like most men, he’s just not that creative or original when it comes to matters of the heart . . . but he means well.” She looked out the window and saw him stand and begin his trek up the hill, back to the house, and she knew she did not have a lot of time. “He’s on his way back.”

Coleen sounded desperate. “What do I do now? I’ve been avoiding his phone calls and not talking with him or seeing him. He must think I hate him.”

“I don’t think so at all. My suggestion would be to hang up and call back in a few minutes and talk to him. You’ll know what to say. Just don’t tell him about our conversation. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Patti. I can’t wait to meet you at the wedding. Bye.”

She hung up and set the phone back on the table just in time to see him walk through the door.

“Hiya.”

“Catch anything?

“The boys caught some bass and sunfish, and then threw them back into the lake. Catch and release. But there’s some good fishing here, I can tell.” Robert glanced down at the phone before saying, “Howya doing? Feet okay?”

“No, but that won’t change for a while. It’s my back that’s killing me, carrying around all this extra weight,” she said, rubbing her back, then her belly. “Won’t be long.” She was hurting more than usual, and differently from before.

“You want some hot water to soak your feet? Or maybe some Epsom salts?”

“No, but I may need some help in getting my shoes back on.”

“No problem.” He grabbed her shoes from the floor and was handing them to her when his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, then at Patti before he answered it. She nodded for him to take the call.

“Hi,” he said tenderly, and as she watched him speak, she saw his body language change. He covered the mouthpiece and whispered to her, “It’s Coleen.”

Patti watched him as he listened to Coleen on the phone and heard him say, “That’s awful. Are you feeling better now?” He motioned to Patti that he was going outside for some fresh air and to finish his conversation. “Something you ate? Oh, that must have felt terrible . . . ,” she heard him say. She smiled and watched him through the window as he walked around the patio. A few minutes later, he came back inside with a huge grin on his face.

“Can you believe that? She got food poisoning and was sicker than a dog for the last few days? Didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Poor girl, but she said she’s feeling much better now. I think I’ll send her some get-well flowers.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Dad.” She smiled. “Are you ready to go?” she asked as she finally managed to shove her foot inside her shoe.

“Yeah. I think I’ll buy this house. It has a good feel to it.”

She hugged him and wrapped her arm around his. “I agree. Good choice. You’re so wise. I guess that’s why I love you so much.”

“I’m just a lovable kind of guy, that’s all. Come on, let’s go.”

They walked outside and he took one last look around at the house and the lake. “Yes, this will be a good house for the family. I’ll put a swing right there and swing with my new grandson, Robert.”

She looked at him. “Dad, about the name thing . . .”

He saw the look on her face and said, “Or whatever you decide to call him. It’ll be fine with me. As long as he’s healthy. That’s all that matters.” He smiled and they walked away arm in arm from the soon-to-be Macgregor homestead.

“And I think I’ll put a Macgregor coat of arms right there on the fence, for all to see.”

“Great idea.” But she was worried. It would not be the same without him at the wedding. He was the elder of the family, the rock of the Macgregors, the glue that held everything together. She knew in the coming years everyone would regret it, including him.
How can I talk him into it? What can I do?