AllFreeNovel
Share Us
No more roaming the mountains and sleeping in a tent or the back of a truck. No more dining on dry ramen noodles and washing her clothes in a mountain stream. She had to create a home, something she’d never done.
You don’t have to change your whole life, Suzanne.
Suzanne had wanted to.
The life she’d chosen didn’t fit with having kids. It might have worked for Cheryl, but it didn’t work for her.
She couldn’t give the girls their parents back, but she could give them consistency and stability.
There had been times when she’d wondered whether Stewart’s love for her would be strong enough to withstand this new, unforeseen pressure on their relationship, but he’d handled it the same way he weathered storms on the mountains—with quiet calm.
Suzanne had readily agreed to move from Washington State to Scotland, where they would at least be close to Stewart’s family. To begin with, they’d rented a small cottage a mile outside Glensay village, where Stewart’s parents owned a small café.
With his skills as a climber and mountain guide, Stewart was immediately in demand and he went to work at the Glensay Adventure Centre, while Suzanne did what she could to furnish their home on a shoestring budget. While Stewart was out in the fresh air, she taught herself to cook something that wasn’t dried rations and picked up bargains to make their small rental property cozy.
She’d felt out of her depth and hopelessly ill equipped to handle the challenge that lay ahead. Most people had nine months of pregnancy to prepare themselves for motherhood. She’d woken up one day and found herself responsible for three children of different ages, with no instruction manual.
A month after arriving in Scotland, Suzanne had taken refuge from the cold in a local store, drawn in by a beautiful sweater displayed in the window.
She’d been eyeing it when the owner had approached. “The color would look perfect on you.”
With three children to raise, Suzanne didn’t have the money for pretty sweaters.
“It will be outside my budget.”
“The sweater itself isn’t for sale. I hung that there so that people could see how it looks when it’s finished.”
“You knitted this?” For the first time, Suzanne noticed the rainbow of wool that covered one wall of the small shop. The shop didn’t sell sweaters, it sold yarn.
“You don’t knit? You should learn. It’s a great way to pass a Highland winter.” The woman smiled. “You’re Elsie McBride’s daughter-in-law, aren’t you? You and Stewart are raising those poor wee girls who lost their parents.”
Suzanne had wondered if the woman was feeling sorry for the children, living with someone who had no clue how to knit. “I’m Suzanne.”
“And I’m Margaret Cameron.” She held out her hand. “My friends call me Maggie.”
Suzanne had quickly become one of those friends.
Maggie had invited Suzanne to join the knitting group she held in her home every week. At first Suzanne hadn’t cared much about the knitting itself. What she’d enjoyed was the conversation and companionship. The opportunity to seek advice from other women. But gradually she discovered the knitting had therapeutic properties. The first time she knitted a sweater for Posy, she’d felt a sense of achievement. It didn’t matter that the hem wasn’t perfectly straight or that some of the stitches were uneven. She’d made it herself. It was even more gratifying that Posy refused to take it off. She’d slept in that sweater, Suzanne remembered, until she’d worn a hole in it.
Eventually Maggie had given up selling yarn and concentrated on knitting.
After a couple of years Suzanne took over the café from Stewart’s parents and added a small section where she sold hand-knitted goods made locally. They proved so popular she increased the space. Then she extended the stock to include other crafts, including locally made whiskey marmalade and heather honey. She couldn’t keep up with demand, so used a portion of the profits to extend the property. Visitors to the café were almost always tempted to venture down the two steps into the shop, and visitors to the shop rarely left without sampling one of Suzanne’s cakes and a frothy cappuccino.
Suzanne had lived in many places, but Glensay was her first real home.
She’d arrived with Stewart and three bewildered and sad young children at the start of a harsh Scottish winter, and the community had embraced them.
The people felt like family. She couldn’t imagine ever living anywhere else.
“How is Doug’s leg, Rhonda?”
“Playing up in this cold weather, but will he go and see the doctor?”
“I don’t know what it is with men,” Maggie said. “My Pete wouldn’t go to the doctor if his leg was hanging off. You’re quiet, Suzy. Are you going to tell us what’s wrong? Is it Hannah?”
Despite all the stereotypes of small communities and gossip, Suzanne knew that nothing she said would leave this group of women.
They had supported each other through illness, unemployment and tragedy.
