Song From the Sea (40 page)

Epilogue

N
ame this child,” the vicar said, gingerly holding the squirming infant in his hands while Adam looked on nervously. He never had trusted the vicar not to muddle things, and he really didn't want to watch him drop his daughter.

Nigel stepped forward and said, “Flora Melbourne Carlyle.”

“I baptize thee Flora Melbourne Carlyle in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” The vicar dipped his finger into the baptismal font and made the sign of the cross over the baby's forehead. He said the obligatory prayers and handed Callie little Flora, who beamed with pleasure to be back in her mother's arms.

“If you'll indulge me for just a moment,” Callie said, smiling at the small group of people in the chapel. “There's something important I have to do.”

Adam knew in his bones what was coming, but he didn't mind in the least. Callie had not only blessed him with a little girl, but she'd also sailed through pregnancy and childbirth with an ease that had alarmed Mrs. Simpson, delighted Plimpton, Gettis and the rest of the household, and thrilled him, especially because she hadn't banned him from their bed for one instant. Whatever Callie chose to do now was just fine with him. The vicar might be taken aback, but Adam doubted anyone else who knew Callie would be the least surprised.

Callie untucked Flora's blankets and held her daughter out in front of her, Flora's weight resting on Callie's forearms, her little head resting in Callie's hands.

Callie looked into Flora's eyes and began to sing, a soaring, complex, and beautifully harmonic series of notes.

She sang Flora her soul song, and Flora's little fists danced joyfully along, her eyes fixed intently on her mother's face.

The chapel echoed with Callie's final notes, throwing them back as if in angelic refrain.

Adam walked over to Callie and took Flora from her, cradling her in one arm as naturally as if he'd been born to cradle infants. “That was beautiful, my love,” he said, kissing Callie's cheek. He lowered his voice. “I think you'd better have a word with the vicar again. He's looking a little faint.”

“Sherry,” Callie said with a grin. “I've noticed it's always worked wonders. Let's take our guest out onto the lawn. We're lucky it's such a beautiful day and we're able to serve luncheon outside.”

After lunch when they were all milling around and chatting, Sir Reginald took Callie to one side. “Excuse me, Mrs. Bishop,” he said to Nellie, who was engaged in a lively conversation with Callie about the planting of the garden outside of Nellie's new cottage. “Might I interrupt for just one moment?”

“Certainly,” Nellie said, going off to find her husband, who was engaged in an equally lively exchange with Nigel about the crops he planned to put in that spring.

“I wanted to give you these, my dear,” Sir Reginald said, handing Callie a bundle of letters tied in a blue ribbon. “I wanted to wait for just the right occasion, and this seemed suitable. Perhaps you will pass them on to Flora one day.”

Callie looked down at the bundle, instantly recognizing her father's handwriting. “These are Papa's letters to you,” she said, overcome with a flood of emotion. “Oh, thank you, dear Sir Reginald. Thank you so much.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his whiskered cheek, trying very hard not to cry, for she didn't want to embarrass him.

He cleared his throat. “I thought they might help you finish your father's book, once you have time to begin the endeavor properly. There is much detail in them about his findings.”

Callie blinked through the clouds in her eyes. “Yes. Yes, they will be most useful. You are too kind, for I know how much they meant to you.”

“Not at all, my dear. You and your husband have given an old man great happiness in the last year. I hope these letters will give you equal happiness.” He mumbled something about helping himself to another piece of Cook's excellent cake, and wandered off in the direction of the river. Callie knew that cake was the last thing on his mind.

She watched him for a moment, infinitely grateful that he had come into their lives. He'd become a fixture, visiting them often and always giving enormous pleasure when he did, acting as friend, advisor, and father figure, and she was happy that Flora and the future children that she and Adam planned would have a grandfather of sorts.

Her life was blessed, and she counted those blessings each and every day. The grange had become an enormous success even in its fledgling year under Adam's control, the tenant cottagers thriving now that they were being treated fairly. They worked hard and the land reaped its rewards as a result and gave back those rewards to them. She and Nellie were firmer friends than ever, Nellie's fears about Callie becoming a grand lady having come to naught. Callie hadn't changed her ways one iota, and no one seemed to mind, least of all Adam.

Callie was most especially blessed there, for Adam loved her well and truly, and their lives were rich with love and laughter and shared endeavors. Even when she received letters from her friends in Corfu, usually written by the village priest, she didn't ache to return. She'd go back to the Villa Kaloroziko one day and take Adam and their children with her, but she was in no rush, knowing that Niko held it in good hands. Her life was here now, and it was a good one.

Nigel wandered over, a glass of champagne in one hand, the other wrapped around Adam's shoulder. “There's something I've been meaning to tell you both for some time,” he said, raising his glass to them. “As Flora's godfather, I want you to know that I take full responsibility for her arrival on this earth.”

“How is that?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow. “I don't recall your being around for the conception.”

“Not that conception. It was the other conception that was my brilliant master plan, and I must say, Adam, as your friend and steward of all your affairs, I did an admirable job. I think you should both congratulate me.”

“What are we congratulating you for?” Callie asked, knowing from the twinkle in Nigel's eyes that he planned to unleash one of his incessant jokes.

“You are congratulating me for having made all of his possible,” he said. “I have a confession to make, and I hope that you will receive it in the spirit in which it was intended.” He took a sip of champagne, grinning.

“Confess then, friend, and why not?” Adam said, returning his grin. “What sin have you committed that needs confessing and should earn our gratitude? The two seem in direct opposition.”

“I lied,” Nigel said with enormous satisfaction. “Actually, I didn't lie, I merely committed a sin of omission. I knew about Callie's true identity all along, at least from the day I returned from Dover. I knew her name, Adam, I knew that Harold was supposed to be her fiancé, and I kept my mouth firmly closed because I also knew that she was the perfect woman for you. I was right, was I not?”

Adam stared at his dearest, closest friend and looked as if he was sorely tempted to knock him flat.

Callie covered her mouth with her hand, trying terribly hard not to laugh. She couldn't help herself. Her laughter overflowed and she crowed with delight. “I do love you, Nigel,” she said, laughing so hard that she thought she might fall over. “You are very wonderful. Thank you—oh, thank you, because if you had told Adam the truth—”

“He would have immediately consigned you to the hell of Harold, given the state of mind he was in,” Nigel finished for her. “I know I behaved very badly, but I just couldn't bring myself to be forthcoming. Forgive me for my sins, but I knew exactly what I was doing.”

Adam's mouth twitched as if he was wrestling with himself, and then he chuckled. “I should have known,” he said. “Damn and blast you, and thank you very, very much.” He shook his head and shook it again, then burst into laughter. “I suppose that is the meaning of a true friend,” he said, wiping his eyes. “He's the person who loves you enough to save you from yourself. Thank you, Nigel, on behalf of Callie and myself. You acted as a true steward.”

“I did, you're most welcome, and may you live a long a happy life together.”

Adam wrapped his arm around Callie's waist. “We shall, Nigel. Oh, we most definitely shall.”