I think back now with no less bemusement than I did at the time it all happened. Who would have guessed a short, plumpish American girl from Tennessee could turn the head of a handsome Scot?
It was actually the day before our weddings, he to a tall, slim, beautiful heiress, and me, well, I was marrying short, balding Archie. We had gone to Scotland for a destination wedding. Unfortunately we had to go alone as our families couldn't afford to follow us, and the only reason we were able to manage was because I was a travel agent. He wanted to be married in the homeland of his ancestors. I just wanted to be married. I was tired of being alone and of being looked over and dismissed, and Archie seemed like a nice guy. I was well into my thirties and had long ago come to believe that true love simply wasn't in the books so what was there to lose? People had married for far less noble reasons.
So there I was, riding a game little mare as pudgy as I was when another rider crested the hill before us. I pulled up and waited, unsure of why. There was just something about him even from a distance. He sat tall and elegant astride a thoroughbred that was far harder to manage than my little mare. I stared, feeling something akin to awe as his horse trotted nearer. Expecting him to pass me by I moved the mare to one side of the trail, leaving plenty of room. But rather than doing the expected, he surprised me by pulling up with a smile.
“Good morning,” he greeted me, his voice cultured and rich like my favorite double dutch chocolate cocoa and his eyes, glowing with what I was startled to realize was male appreciation.
My mouth went dry and it took several attempts before I croaked, “Hello.”
“Are you a guest here?”
Again, I opened my mouth twice before I was able to reply, “Um, yes..”
His horse tried to sidle closer to mine but the little mare snorted and danced away. I knew exactly how she felt.
There were a few awkward moments until he extended his right hand with a friendly smile, “James MacTavis, at your service.”
I stared at his hand in disbelief before shaking myself out of my trance and placing mine in his. It was large, warm, and slightly rough. And unlike Archie's, it wasn't professionally manicured.
“Oh. Oh! I'm sorry. Pearl Landry.”
“Miss Landry, a rare pleasure.”
His smile warmed even as my face did the same. Honestly, I should have been way past the blushing age by now!
“Are,” I tried to delicately swallow the frog in my throat, “Are you a guest here as well, Mr. MacTavis?”
His smile became a grin, “You could say that.”
Another thankfully brief awkward pause before I blurted, “I'm here to get married. In the castle. Tomorrow.”
“What a lovely coincidence. So am I.” A teasing glint came into his warm eyes. “Perhaps the castle overbooked and we're to have a double wedding.”
“Oh! I hope not!”
At that he laughed outright and for the first time I began to relax. He really did have a nice laugh, unlike Archie's donkey bray.
“Were you going anywhere in particular?” he asked and I shook my head.
“No. Just out exploring.”
“Then perhaps I can show you some fine spots?”
Of course I agreed and he turned his mount around to ride comfortably alongside me as over the next hour or so I was shown lovely little glades and views from the surrounding hills. Eventually we found ourselves loitering beside a gentle waterfall, our horses grazing on the plentiful grass while we walked along the water's edge.. I had grown comfortable with him and found myself wondering wistfully what it must be like to know you were marrying someone such as him. Guilt filled me at the thought. It wasn't Archie's fault he came up short and wanting in the comparison.
There was another moment of silence, this one companionable, and I had the impression he was mulling something over. I had discovered that beyond the easy charm was a thoughtful and intelligent man not given to inane comment. I waited patiently.
“If you will forgive me, Miss Landry,” he began quietly with an intent glance,” but I can't help noticing that you don't seem...”
“Yes?”
“Happy.”
I jerked, surprised first by his candor then by conflicting emotions. It occurred to me that I should be telling him to mind his own business. Of course I was happy. Wasn't I? But as we stared at one another, I was struck by the fact that the man seemed genuinely to care that I wasn't. Amazing how a near stranger could be so intuitive when my own fiance wasn't. Looking away I watched the water as it flowed over the rock ledge.
“You're very perceptive, Mr. MacTavis.”
“That's a shame considering you're to be shortly married.”
Still watching the water I felt myself smile sadly.
“You're right. I'm very much afraid that I'm preparing to make a monumental mistake.”
“Why is that?”
“I'm nearly forty years old. I'm overweight and not appealing enough to the opposite sex to have received even a hope of love. So, Archie and I have settled on an unspoken agreement to make the best of it.”
“You don't love him.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“I'm fond of him. We're friends and have known each other for years. Alliances have been made with far less.”
“Alliances.” He shook his head with a gentle smile. “Marriage should be much more than an alliance.”
I turned the tables on him by asking, “And you? Do you love your fiance?”
He didn't seem surprised by the question but instead grew thoughtful again.
“Yes, I do. But are we 'in love'? That's a different story.”
Fascinated, I watched him consider his words with characteristic care.
“I've known Rachel since we were toddlers. Our families have always been close and it was naturally assumed that one day she and I would marry.” He paused. “We've taken our times, had other relationships and worked on our careers. Now here we are, back on our home turf and finally ready to make our own 'alliance'.”
“Home turf? You're not a guest? You mean you own this place?”
“My family does, and has for generations.”
“Wow!” It was all I could think to say.
Again that thoughtful pause before he turned fully toward me, “Miss Landry, Pearl, I've heard you make disparaging comments about yourself while we've talked. You couch them in jokes but its obvious you believe them. Why is that?”
I shrugged and turned away, “Because I do.”
“Why?”
“Conditioning. A lot of people have gone to a lot of trouble to make sure I was realistic about what I am.”
“And what is that?”
I turned back toward him feeling somewhat desperate.
“You sure ask a lot of personal questions!”
“When I care,” he agreed quietly and I stared at him, thunderstruck.
“You don't know me enough to care.”
“Oh, but I do.” His gentle smile returned. “I've already known you to be a practical woman with a sensitive and sincere, if lonely, heart. You have a wonderful sense of humor and a keen sense of the ridiculous, and if you don't mind my saying so quite a fetch to look upon.”
“Me? A fetch?”
“Of course. Has your Archie never said as much?”
“Archie says I'm a great cook.”
“Ah!” He laughed, “So that's the way of it. He's in love with your casseroles!”
I had to laugh as well, “Yes, I guess he is. But then, I do make a mean lasagna.”
Not for the first time I watched the warm appreciation fill his eyes once again.
“I'm certain you are far more than a great cook. I like to hear you laugh.”
I felt sadness tug, “My father didn't. He thought it loud and obnoxious.”
“Ridiculous! I would think hearing my daughter laughing and happy would be a wonderful thing.”
“He also thought I was fat and disappointing.”
“Sounds more like he was the disappointment.”
I couldn't think of a thing to say to that assessment because suddenly I found myself silently agreeing.
“The bottom line, my dear, is that you are worthy of so much more than settling, as you so succinctly put it.”
“Thank you.”
“I am serious. You have so much more to offer than you know. I would hope you wouldn't squander those gifts and ruin a long time friendship for less than you deserve.”
“And you? Aren't you doing the same?”
Again the tables were turned and this time it was he who looked discomfited.
“Touche.”
“So what do you propose we do about our mutual situations?”
“Not an easy consideration given that we're each to be married tomorrow.”
“What would you like to do?”
The pause was tangible and long.
“Get to know you better.”
Now I was flabbergasted!
“Really?”
“Yes. I find you fascinating.”
I shook my head, marveling.
“Well, you're direct, I'll give you that.”
“And what would you like to do, Miss Landry?”
“The same, get to know you as well,” I admitted, the blush returning to my cheeks.
“Perhaps we should postpone our weddings while we decide our best course of action?”
Oh, how I wanted suddenly to do just that!
“Are we being serious here?”
He nodded, expression for once shuttered and I took a deep breath.
“Suddenly I'm terrified.”
“As am I,” he admitted, “We certainly seem to have lobbed some stones into our serene ponds, haven't we?”
“I don't suppose we would be so lucky as to have Rachel and Archie fall madly in love and elope together, would we?”
“Probably not.”
“Oh my God,” I rubbed my forehead with my left hand, noticing the band of the engagement ring as I did so, “I can't believe this is happening now of all times.”
“One could say in the nick of time maybe?”
My little mare nickered, breaking the intensity of the moment.
“Maybe its time we went back.”
I took up the reins and prepared to mount only to stop when his hand appeared warm and gentle on my shoulder and I turned back, finding him close and intent upon my face. Without a word he took a half step closer and kissed me softly.
“A postponement,” he whispered, “We need to know.”
That evening I broke the news to Archie that I felt we needed to wait a while longer before saying our I do's. He complied, surprisingly easily, and a year later I was back at the ancient castle. This time my heart was clear as I walked slowly down the aisle with James MacTavis waiting for me, his hand held out and his eyes warm with love just for me, at its end.
A fairytale, if I ever read one. A classic example of opposites attract. I agree with John that reading your writing is easy because the flow is so natural and normal. But as I read, a friend of mine popped into view. I hope you don't mind recounting her story.
When I first arrived in California as a student, in our apartment complex were two nurses from Canada, Bev and Donna. Bev was outgoing and came to the game room. Donna was not. My roommate and I arranged a date to the Chinese New Year in San Francisco. I was to be with Bev and my roommate was with Donna. But we switched before the night was over.
Eventually, Donna and I broke up when she left California for good, returning home after a year working as a nurse around the world with another friend from home. By that time, Bev was dating a dashing young man from Bangladesh, a nuclear scientist working on something called, semiconductors, at Fairchild. He was Muslim, and when he returned home and told his father that he was marrying a Christian Canadian, his father had a heart attack (his excuse?) And he broke it off with Bev. He had already lost his job at Fairchild and picked up a job at Pittsburgh.
In time, Bev settled for a pudgy, like she was, engineer working for Lockheed, telling me that she didn't love him but needed someone. They bought a duplex, and then a 10 unit apartment house, living in each, and then a larger apartment. Seven years later, I returned to find Bev living on Candlelight Drive in Los Gatos, next door to the vice president of IBM. They had two small kids. Their marriage of convenience had made them very rich. Happy? She didn't look like it when I saw her briefly. Never got back to see them again and lost track over time.
"We need to know" at the end says it all and was worth waiting for. Oh, if such a story could really come true. I said it before when I commented on another story of yours a few weeks ago, you have a natural style and flow that feels right to the reader. The writing is engaging as is the innuendo and story line, leading us up to the unexpected end. It feels like a wrap-around scarf somehow. I think you have got a touch for writing narrative prose like this, and it feels just right. I hope you pursue this.
A young widow joins her aunt’s house-restoration project in the wilderness, determined to take a stand for independence, but two men have different plans for her—and so does God.
I think back now with no less bemusement than I did at the time it all happened. Who would have guessed a short, plumpish American girl from Tennessee could turn the head of a handsome Scot?
