Hell Transporter (Between) (30 page)

Aiden gave me a look, admonishing me to be silent and he responded in my mind.

The one called
Robert didn’t believe me. He said to his friend, “If this fella’s American, my mother’s got three tits.” And then the big man said he’d seen Robert’s mother, and didn’t doubt it.

I giggled, liking Andrew a little bit more.
What did he say when he let us go?
I asked and Aiden shrugged, his face lined with distaste.

He heard the way that Ian and Sarah talked and he called me a mutt after he stamped my passport. And Robert…
His jaw clenched with irritation.
Robert said ‘twas too bad ye were getting married because he’d like to wear your arse as a hat.

Sputtering, I had to swallow my outrage because we caught up to Ian and Sarah, who looked distinctly worried.

“Everything all right, son?” Ian asked quietly and Aiden nodded.

“All is well. Thank you for calling out. It helped,” he said in that strange accent, just in case anyone was listening. Sarah fussed and gave him a quick squeeze, and then we joined the rest of our party to take the train to Inverness.

The MacKinnons were a warm and welcoming family, and there were lots of them. They were also apparently quite wealthy, as many of them lived together in a ginormous castle. Like something out of a fairytale, the stone walled, ancient structure was perched high on a hill overlooking the water. Snow covered the grounds, pristine and glimmering in the late afternoon sun. Ian was more excited than I’d ever seen him, and his face glowed with pride as he took us through his boyhood home, introducing us to his relatives. To my relief, Aiden had resumed his normal Scottish accent after leaving the airport. He looked decidedly at home in this surreal atmosphere. Ian had apparently let his relatives know ahead of time that Aiden had no living family because they seemed careful not to inquire about his past.

I, on the other hand, was fair game and once we’d gotten settled into our rooms, Ian’s great-nieces Janette and Moira peppered me with questions about what it was like living in America. Had I ever been to New York City? Did I see celebrities all the time? Had I ever watched them make a film in Hollywood? Had I ever slept with anyone famous? Each question was more ridiculous than the last and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Uh, no, no and no. Oh, and sadly no on the last one, too,” I said with a grin. If the eighteen-year-old twins were disappointed, they didn’t show it. Fresh-faced with their dark hair pulled back into matching ponytails, they had identical button noses. They each had a set of full, pouty lips that I could see would be very effective in getting their way. Right now, those lips were beaming at me in a wide smile. Moira told me they were very excited about the wedding, about meeting these mysterious friends of the family from America.

“‘Tis all we’ve been talking about for days,” Janette said as she helped me unpack.

“We can hardly wait until the hen party tomorrow night!” Moira added with glee and I gave her an inquisitive look, asking her to explain. She didn’t continue after getting an elbow and a glare from her sister, but as they were leaving, she turned back to me and whispered, “Don’t you worry, it’ll be grand.” She winked at me and disappeared out the door, leaving me to wonder what on earth they were talking about.

Jen and Steph came in after they’d gotten unpacked. They were sharing a room and both looked a little worse for wear after the long flight. Jen flopped down on my bed in her typical drama queen fashion.

“Ugh, I feel like I could sleep for the rest of my life. My whole body aches from being on that plane for ten million hours.” She stretched from the tips of her fingers to her pointed toes. “Still, I want to go and see everything. I just can’t keep my eyes open.” She yawned and rolled onto her side. Exhausted myself, I thought a nap sounded like a wonderful plan. I told them to hang out for a minute and slipped down the hall to find Aiden. He and Ian were talking animatedly as they headed toward the stairs.

I stopped them. “Um, I just wanted to let you know that Jen, Steph and I are pretty wiped out, so we’re going to take a short nap, if that’s all right.”

“Aye, the first time over the pond, it knocks you out a bit,” Ian said. “You get used to it after a time. Go on and get some rest.” He patted my arm and Aiden gave me a peck on the cheek. When I made it back to the room, Jen and Steph were conked out on the bed, dead to the world. I grabbed a quilt off a chair in the corner of the room and draped it over them, then squeezed under the blanket and snuggled up next to Steph. I fell asleep about three seconds later.

I woke to the sound of bagpipes playing. Disoriented, I blinked and waited for my eyes to adjust and my brain to catch up. Moonlight reflected off the snow, bathing the room in a bluish hue. Steph and Jen were gone and I was alone in the bed. I stretched, enjoying the pull in my muscles, then buried my face in the pillow, not quite ready to get up.

Still, the wheezing tones of the pipes chased up the stairs, calling me, and I feared that I was being an inordinately rude houseguest. I sat up in the high, soft bed and rubbed my eyes. A sliver of yellow light appeared as the door opened, and Aiden came in with a tray of food.

“Bon soir, ma chèrie,”
he said, wishing me a good evening. “Are ye better rested now, love?” He sat on the bed and put an arm around my shoulders. Nodding, I relaxed against his chest. “I’ve brought you a wee bit of supper. I thought you might be hungry when you woke,” he said, gesturing to the tray. He’d fixed me a plate of sausage and potatoes with an oatcake on the side. A glass of beer completed the meal.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten—on the plane?—and realized I was ravenous. I tore into the food while he stroked my back and recounted his afternoon with the MacKinnons.

“Ian’s family is wonderful and they’ve lived here for generations,” he said with a wistful shake of his head. I knew coming home to Scotland would be bittersweet for him since his own family was long gone, but I’d hoped it would be more sweet than bitter. I watched him while I ate and could see that indeed, it was. There was a contentedness, a wholeness in him I hadn’t seen before. It warmed my heart.

“What’s going on downstairs? I hear bagpipes.” I gestured to the door, which was still ajar.

“They’re having a
ceilidh
to welcome us all,” he said, pronouncing the word as ‘kay-lee.’ I gathered it was a party and felt terrible for having overslept. After gulping the last of the beer, I grabbed my hairbrush off the dresser and tried to wrangle my unruly curls into submission, but they danced wildly about my head, refusing to be tamed. Aiden laughed, his own hair pulled back with a tidy leather strap.

He ran his fingers through my curls in admiration. “I love your hair, lassie. ‘Tis soft and feminine, but it has a feisty spirit, just like you.”

I decided a braid would be best and bent the twisted mass to my will with the help of a couple dozen bobby pins. Aiden held out his arm and we descended the stairs together.

It seemed like the entire town had come out for the
ceilidh
. The great room was filled to bursting with people, most of whom I didn’t recognize. The crowd surged forward in time with the folk music, dancing and clapping. The yeasty scent of beer mingled with the sweet aroma of the puddings and pies lining the back wall. My mom caught my eye as I stepped into the room and she worked her way along the outskirts toward me. She and my dad had come on a different flight than the rest of us and were staying at a hotel in town, so I hadn’t seen her yet. She gave me a big hug and looked relieved to see me, probably because she was knee deep in a room full of Scots she didn’t know. My mom was normally a very outgoing and social person, but even the greatest extrovert has her limits.

“Where’s Nick?” I asked.

She made a moue of distaste. “It’s over between us. I found a little place in town and I’m moving out as soon as I get back.” Words escaped me. I felt bad for her, but I certainly wasn’t unhappy to hear that she was through with Nick. My dad appeared behind her then, which saved me from having to respond.

He reached over and gave me a quick squeeze. “Hey there, sleepy head! Everyone’s been waiting for you,” he chided. “Come on, there are some folks over here who are dying to meet you.” He took my arm, winding me through the room, introducing me to the MacKinnons’ neighbors and friends who’d come to wish us well.

After some more liquid courage, I ended up smack dab in the middle of the dancing, passing from one stranger to the next. The band consisted of one bagpiper, two fiddlers, a guitarist and a flutist. The music infected me with a goofy grin as Ian twirled us around the floor, teaching me a traditional Scottish dance. At the end of the song, I flopped into a chair, breathing hard, my face hot with exertion. It was a blast.

When the band stopped for a quick break, Steph wandered over toward them.
What is she doing?
I thought. All during the flight, Steph had seemed far away with that lost look in her eyes. Playing that gig before finals with Brandon and Brian had seemed to lift her spirits some, but she still seemed consumed by the fog that had descended on her after the near-rape. I wasn’t even sure she would be up for coming to Scotland for the wedding, but she’d insisted that she wanted to come. Still, I wondered.

She made her way over to the band and addressed the main fiddler. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but his eyebrows went up in surprise. He looked doubtful, but smiled at her with a nod. He said something to the other fiddler, who shrugged and handed his instrument to Steph. I sat up in my seat, interested.

The main fiddler cut through the noise of chattering conversations in the room with a complex melody, his fingers flying quickly over the neck of the instrument as his bow moved across the strings in a blur. Then he stopped and the voices in the room quieted as heads turned to see why the music had ended so abruptly. Steph took a deep breath, her face set in determination. Closing her eyes, she lifted her instrument to her chin and repeated exactly the trilling riff that the main fiddler had just played. A long moment of complete silence followed. Then the room erupted in applause and she opened her eyes, a huge grin on her face.

The two of them sparred musically back and forth with their violins after that, and the guests took up dancing once more. Steph’s face was alive with joy and satisfaction, her eyes locked onto the other fiddler. An overwhelming sense of pride and relief bubbled up in me at the sight. Aiden held out his hand and we danced late into the night, with this group of people who’d gone from strangers to family in the space of a few drinks.

~

The next day, Aiden and I went to the District Registrar to pick up our marriage schedule. I was a little nervous that we might run into the same problems we’d had with the customs agent, but the clerk was so cheerful, he could have been Santa Claus. He wished us a happy marriage as he handed us the license, his white beard cracking into a wide grin. As we drove back, Aiden pointed out places he remembered from his youth. Most everything had changed, but there were still spots where he reminisced about trouble he and his brother, Duncan, had gotten into. At the mention of his brother, his voice cracked a little. He stared out the window with a look I couldn’t quite discern.

“You miss him, don’t you?” I asked, but to my surprise, he shook his head with a chuckle.

“Och, no, ‘tis not that. I loved my brother, but he’s been gone from me for long enough now that I don’t truly miss him anymore. ‘Tis just… being here… I can almost feel his presence at my side, like somehow he knows I’ve come home.” He reached over and took my hand. “Thank ye, Lindsey. For all of this.” His eyes swept over the snow white rolling hills. “I’d no idea it would mean so much to see this place again. But it does.” He choked up on the last words and I squeezed his hand, knowing my eyes said “You’re welcome” better than words ever could.

We were meeting my mother at Eilean Donan Castle to help with the last-minute wedding prep details. Aiden grew very quiet as the castle came into view. He pulled into the courtyard and cut the motor, and we sat in the car, staring at the familiar site in awe. He walked toward the building as if in a trance, but he seemed to snap out of it when he saw my mother beckon to us from the entrance. He had no words, but it didn’t matter. His heart was written on his face.

I pulled him back for a moment before we went in. “I love you,” I said, holding him close. I felt him nod then take a deep breath as he struggled to collect himself. I could tell he needed some time alone, so I left him and went to join my mother.

The frigid air outside made me appreciate the warmth from the fire in the banqueting room. I’d been here before, in the realm in between, when Aiden had taken me through his memories. It was instantly familiar and yet different, and I looked around the interior of the castle in awe. The room had been transformed from the last time I’d seen it—filled with bloodthirsty warriors—to a beautiful sanctuary of green and gold.

Jen, Steph, Janette and Moira were there with my mom, pinning ribbons to the chairs that framed an aisle down the middle of the great room. Tears welled up in my eyes. Mom gave me a hug, then set me to work draping fabric over the pulpit where the ceremony would take place.

Aiden came in after a while, his cheeks flushed pink with the cold. Excitement transformed his face into a little boy’s as he pulled me outside to show me something. He pointed to a carving above the main door.