Page 120 of Geordie

His face is flushed from rubbing, blue eyes full of sorrow. “Don’t go, Lily, this can still happen for us. I love you.” The plea is quiet, with a hint of resignation. It kills me. This is his first “I love you,” now that we’re at the end.

It’s too hard to say it back. We should save those words for a beginning together, not an ending. I sit beside him, aching to touch him, to comfort him, but I can’t. “Maybe the miscarriage was a sign that we shouldn’t have a child together. You have a perfect opportunity, with a surrogate you know well and who has already had three healthy children. Don’t throw away this gift. You’ll see, once you have your baby in your arms, it will be worth it.”

Chapter fifty-eight

True Devotion

Geordie

Alightrainpebblesthe window as a subdued sun comes up on the horizon. I pull down the small white window shade as Connie stirs, asleep on my shoulder. Her seat transforms into a bed or there is a sleeping suite she could use, but her mothering instincts are probably telling her to be ready at a moment's notice. It's nice the three of us are snuggling close.

It's been a long flight, but we're finally home. Well, my first home. My daughter sleeps in a bassinet at our feet. A bonnie, angelic, perfect being I fell in love with the moment the nurse placed her in my arms. Connie's pregnancy was easy; it was the delivery that was the problem, but I was there for every glorious minute from conception to delivery.

Smiling green eyes stare up at me. “Are we almost there?” Connie asks, covering a yawn.

“Nearly,” I say. “We should arrive at the Edinburgh airport in about an hour. Are you hungry? I'll let the flight attendant know.”

She sits up. “You know, I've never been on a private plane before; I haven't even flown first class. This is exciting.”

The wee one stirs, fists balled, her sweet pink lips sucking in her dreams. Her eyes open, and she’s scrunching up her face to give a wee cry. Connie scoops her onto her lap, cooing to the child as she unbuttons her blouse for a feeding. The wee one takes to the nipple, and for the hundredth time I see she's a natural mother and I'm grateful every day that she had my child.

“Thank you,” I say without realizing the words had escaped.

She looks over at me as she reaches out to take my hand. “You've been thanking me at least three times a day since this child was born. You are welcome—again. I told you I wanted to do this for you.” She looks at me with concern. I must look like a dolt to be this happy. “Before you said yes to the surrogacy, did you know I dreamed about this sweet baby girl? She looks exactly how I imagined her… precious and perfect.”

I place my hand on her warm cheek and kiss her on the forehead. “Thank you,” I whisper.

The baby gives a soft gurgle. We laugh while Connie switches the child to her other breast.

“We will be landing in less than an hour,” the captain announces. “The temperature in Edinburgh is 45 degrees with a smattering of light showers. I hope you had a pleasant flight.”

The flight attendant appears in a striped apron over her uniform. Connie reaches for a lace blanket to veil her feeding. “Can I get you anything before we land?” she asks.

I glance at Connie to see if she needs something.

She shakes her head. “No thank you, I'm fine.”

I know she's a bit overwhelmed by my lifestyle. That's the way Connie is; she doesn't want to be a bother. After more trips like this, she'll be more comfortable when we're traveling together. “You should have something,” I tell her. “The driver is meeting us at the airport and there won't be time before the ceremony.”

“Alright,” she sighs, glancing down at the pink lace, the outline of the babe seen. “She's almost finished feeding. I'll eat something.”

“I'll make up a charcuterie,” the attendant offers. “Meats, cheeses, crackers, that sort of thing. You can have a nibble at what you like.”

Connie smiles, nodding.

The attendant slips through the pocket door, leaving us alone in the plush cabin that would accommodate ten passengers. The three of us have occupied only a wee portion. For me, I want to be close to the two of them. I hired a large plane to give Connie room, but she seems to be content with us with this tight closeness.

When the attendant returns, she rolls the tray in with a meal for ten people. She stays for a few minutes longer, pouring a drink for me and fizzy water for Connie.

“Will you hold the baby?” Connie asks. “I want to freshen up before we land.”

My arms are already outstretched to receive the tiny bundle. I hold her to my chest, singing Gaelic nonsense to her while I'm full to spilling with love for her. Lily was right. When I have my daughter in my arms, it was all worth it. I wonder what she's doing now…

The car arrives at the bottom of a grassy hill. The rain has stopped, but there's a light mist making this place look like Avalon.

Connie and I move purposefully in our outdoor gear against the cold. I hold Connie's hand, guiding her. I'll not have her stumble. These woods are a part of me. I've roamed here alone and with my family since boyhood. I could walk this land half asleep if I had to. It's the need to be near the place where my ancestors lay that pushes me forward.

The babe is wide-eyed. To her, the sights must be wondrous as she rides in a carrier strapped to her mother's body. The wee-yin's rosy-cheeked face peeks out from Connie's coat, a wee pink wool cap on her head. Connie looks like a mother kangaroo with her joey safe in her pouch.

---