Chapter fifty-four
Faire Souche
Geordie
AcceptingConnie'sgenerousgiftis something I think about constantly. The thought of her cradling our child, with the same red hair that runs in both our families, is a beautiful image—yet it’s difficult to accept that Lily won’t be the mother of my babe after all the months of trying. The choice between Connie and Lily is a tug-of-war, and I'm not sure which side will win. Each day that goes by without a decision is torturous, and now my mind wanders to persistent daydreams about the future of my child.
It’s a vivid account of Connie standing on a beinn, cradling the child, as the long strands of her hair are tousled by the winds. With the green grass beneath her feet, the vastness of the countryside is spread out before her. Nestled below is thistle, heather, and the bluest bell flowers in a patch of ground surrounded by old ash and oak where the graves of clan MacTavish lie.
It's only the weathered stone markers of my parents and granny that I see. Then there’s me in my full highland kit and Connie with a sash across her bodice, fashioned from our clan’s red and black tartan. We stand together as a family, presenting our daughter to the graves of parents I only remember from faded photographs.
The dream is not a hopeful conclusion, more like a reoccurring premonition that haunts me. I'm agitated when it fades, because each time I see it, there is a wee bit more detail, but no matter what version I see, there's no Lily in any of the visions.
It feels like something out of my control that Lily grows more circumspect with each week that passes. After we talked about my discussion with Connie at the bowling alley, she asked no more questions and has avoided my attempts to talk about it, like it's a calamity that, if we don't acknowledge, will never happen. I haven't been invited to go with her to her OB/GYN appointments since the miscarriage. I wait each month for her to tell me she's conceived, but no announcement comes, and the pregnancy tests I see in the bin dampen my hope a wee bit more.
Lily spends more time at the restaurant or she's busy working on a new cookbook. Catriona is growing faster than expected. I hired a more experienced manager, and getting him up to speed as I continue to hand over more responsibilities has me working longer. Sometimes I'm not there when Lily comes home, or she's asleep when I arrive. The only light I’ve seen in her eyes is when she told me she was throwing a party to celebrate her birthday.
Our sex time hasn't suffered. She comes to me when I want her, and she demands her share of me as well. It seems to be the only time we can come together, and at least for me, I can leave trying to have a baby behind.
I want my daughter. The need grows like an addict's obsession, but I need Lily too. Must I give up one to have the other?
“This is a surprise,” I say, seeing Kenzie's bonnie face on the screen instead of the knitted brows of my taciturn cousin.
She gives me a brilliant smile, and I'm lighthearted, wishing for the days when I was trying to get Lochlan and Kenzie together.
“Lochlan is on his way up to the room. He's talking to a company rep about a sponsorship deal.” She glances over her shoulder as if she's checking to see if my cousin has entered the room. “Ever since it got out that I'm the model for the Catriona logo, they've offered me photo-shoot deals—not really sports-related, more provocative.”
It surprised me when I learned Kenzie posed for the photos, which were later exhibited at Catriona as a series of paintings by Lochlan's artist friend Logan. They were both coy about how the session came about.
“You're a beautiful woman. I'd want you to represent my beer company, even if you weren't already the logo for the Catriona symbol around the world.”
There's a pretty, pink blush that colors her cheeks as she gives me a shy smile. I've always enjoyed teasing her. I've seen her as a sister and part of our family since we met; I just have to remember not to flirt with her because it makes Lochlan possessive… and he's not above taking a swing at me for it.
“Thank you,” she says. Somewhere off-camera there's a crash, followed by a string of fine Gaelic swearing. Aw, the Scots are famed orators for the art of swearing. Anyone from common folk to the first minister can set a fine string of the most exquisite curses loose that's enough to make a poet weep. “Better go. I think Lochlan stubbed his toe on the equipment I left in the hallway,” she giggles. “Tell Lily I'm looking forward to the party and seeing your new house. Bye.” She waves briefly before turning away. She's stopped by my cousin, who she kisses on her way out of the room.
“How's your toe?”
His mouth gapes open before he swings his gaze over his shoulder. He probably wants to find out if she told me.
“Don't bother questioning Kenzie. We both heard you attacking the furniture.”
“Aye, well. How are you, cousin? Why the phone visit? Do you have something to report on the baby front?”
“No, Lily's not pregnant.”
His face falls a wee bit, but he recovers. “Did Kenzie tell you we received an invitation to Lily's birthday party? I'll be there, but do I have to be trapped in a tux?”
“It's the only thing she requires of the men. It's a wee sacrifice to make my woman happy.”
One of Lochlan's eyebrows arches, and I've spoken before thinking. “So, you've claimed Lily as yours? Will there be an announcement of an engagement?”
“That was a slight slip of the tongue. Our arrangement hasn't changed.”
“Well, if there's no bairn coming or a wedding, then why have you called this meeting?”
“I guess you've forgotten what day it is.”
Sadness takes over his features. “It's the anniversary of our parent's death. Aye, I'd forgotten, but I'm glad you reminded me. Let me find a glass and a bottle.”