Page 122 of Geordie

Chapter fifty-nine

Circle of Love

Lily

TheGatwickairportisfinally in the distance; it's been drizzling for days. The take-off was textbook smooth, which is the only thing that's good about this packed flight. I'm in steerage because there was no room in first class or business. I'm not a snob, but I do like a little comfort, especially at the end of a short, grueling book tour.

I'm in a seat, the only one available, between two American football players, and the manspreading is, ugh, confining. Once in the sky, I decide to make the hour-long trip tolerable, so I order an unending number of beers for me and my row companions, and we become friends. Best decision ever. I've never laughed or flirted so much with nice guys. The weird thing is, these two cute linebackers know who I am. They caught me on a local morning show and they have my cookbooks. We trade contact information. I promise to send them signed books and they will send me box seats to a game.

The car bumps down a country road through a light rain and mist. It looks like a fairyland with the rolling green hills and the cottages. I'm late and didn't think I could make it at all.

“It's just over this hill, ma'am,” the driver says. “Would you like me to wait? I have family in the village; it'll be no problem.”

I think about this… will I be welcome? They're probably in the middle of the ceremony or almost done. “How will I get in touch with you? There are no bars here.”

“Tell one of the clergy; they'll have a phone.” He pulls into the long row of cars leading up to a small, stone church. He stops at the front. There have got to be at least twenty cars parked and more people inside. A church this small, it must be packed. “You attending a wedding?” he asks, twisting around to face me.

“A christening.”

He gives an appreciative whistle. “This is a popular church for weddings, christenings, even funerals, if you can reserve time. They're booked sometimes a year in advance. Aye, it has history going back before the Jacobites' rebellion. Whoever is being christened in there has connections.”

“I'll call you either way within the hour,” I say, sliding out of the car.

There's music when I enter, an organ playing a hymn. I've been to christenings before, but nothing this elaborate. The well-dressed gathering is facing a baptismal font a few feet away from the altar. My heart aches seeing Geordie in his Highland formal kilt. Connie is beside him, beautiful in a lace dress, looking like Princess Kate at a royal christening. Lochlan in Highland dress and Kenzie, tall and pretty in ivory… they look like a family.

Everyone in the church is a relative or a friend of the MacTavish family. Jesus, looking around, I recognize people from the government and celebrities from the times I watched TV in the UK. No one, except for the party around the font, knows me and, worse, there's no place to sit, not even in the front row.

“What name has this child been given?” the priest asks.

I take a breath, leaving no time to consider, and say, “Innis Bella Constance MacTavish,” at the same time Geordie and Connie respond. Every eye is on me from the congregation, the pitch of the murmurs rising. I take the seemingly long walk down the center aisle, the click of my heels on the stone floor as I move toward the altar, my gaze on Geordie, his lips a thin line.

He nods at me when I reach the party clustered around the font. I stop behind Lochlan and Kenzie, who look at Geordie for guidance. The priest leans toward Geordie and in a stage whisper he asks, “Who is this woman?”

“Would you give us a moment?” Geordie asks, not turning his gaze from me. Right now, I'm regretting my decision to attend the ceremony.

A bewildered priest nods and covers his mic. “Use the anteroom. Tell the curate when you're ready to resume.” The priest addresses the gathering. “We will take a short break while the family converses.” He walks around the back of the altar and disappears as Geordie, Connie, and I walk out together to a side door.

We're shown into a room; I assume it's used by the bride. There are clothes, bags, and makeup on a vanity. Did he and Connie share this room before the ceremony?

Innis gurgles and Connie jiggles her a bit. “Would you like to hold her? She's been good; I fed her just before the ceremony.”

I hold my hands out to receive the small bundle. Innis seems heavier since I last held her; the lace gown she's dressed in must weigh a ton. She feels good in my arms, like filling emptiness. Connie stands next to me, hovering while Geordie watches us from the window.

“Why did you not call? I haven't heard from you since yesterday.” Geordie is folding his arms, irritation in his voice. How can he disapprove? I'm here.

“I thought I would be here earlier, but there were flight delays. I'm here now,” I say, offering a weak smile.

Connie glances at both of us, reading the room. “Why don't I step out and let the two of you talk?”

“Stay,” Geordie and I say, still staring at one another.

A sharp knock at the door, and the curate's head pokes in, addressing Geordie. “The bridal party has arrived. We'll need to finish the ceremony and vacate the rooms.”

“Aye, this won't take long. Tell the bridal party that I'll send them a case of MacTavish whiskey as a wedding present if they give us a wee bit of time.”

The head bobs, then disappears.

“This needs to be settled,” Geordie says. “How do you want to handle this? Our original plan won't work. We'll have to decide on another.”

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