Eilean Donan Castle, May 2021
Rogene Wakeley laid two long candles neatly next to each other on the polished antique sideboard. Taking a deep breath, she told herself she was 99.9 percent happy for her friend.
Karin was getting married in Eilean Donan, having her dream wedding to the love of her life in the most beautiful castle in Scotland.
Rogene glanced at the fine painting hanging above the table on a rough stone wall. The portraits of generations of clan MacRae looked at the guests from the walls of the Banqueting Hall, surrounded by rococo and neoclassical furniture. Rogene took the bottle of whisky out of the bag and placed it near the silver quaich, a traditional, shallow drinking cup the couple would use as part of the wedding ceremony.
She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the guests were fine. Fifty or so people sat on the Chippendale chairs, murmuring quietly—elegantly dressed women in small hats with flowers, nets, and feathers, most men in kilts. The happy 99.9 percent of her had been glad to shake the hand of every single one of them as they had arrived and smile so much her face ached.
The happy 99.9 percent of her rejoiced in being the maid of honor, making sure all went according to Karin’s German standards: perfectly and by the minute. Which was good because Rogene was the responsible one. The one who had basically raised her brother, David, from the time she was twelve years old, despite living with their aunt and uncle.
David was talking to one of Karin’s relatives sitting in the front row. The fabric of his suit stretched across his broad shoulders. He was close to being accepted into Northwestern and was likely to get a football scholarship. Good Lord, when did he start looking so much like Dad?
Rogene’s eyes prickled.
That was the 0.1 percent talking.
To distract herself, she turned back to the table and placed the silver candleholder by the quaich.
The 0.1 percent reminded her that she couldn‘t rely on people. That people could disappear at any moment. That they could die. That people wouldn’t take care of her when she needed them the most.
That she was so much better off on her own.
She took the vase that held a gorgeous bouquet of thistle, white roses, and freesias and placed it in the center of the table. As she removed a rose from the side of the bouquet and put it into the center, the unhappy 0.1 percent of her wondered if she’d ever have a bouquet like this at her own wedding. Probably not. She couldn’t imagine getting married. How did others manage to be happy and in love and trust another human being?
As she turned the vase a little, she went completely still.
The bouquet!
She whirled around to the arched exit, her heart slamming in her chest.
“What is it, Rory?” Anusua, her colleague from Oxford University, asked. She stood at the entrance to the hall, ready to greet newly arriving guests. Short and full-figured, she looked stunning in a similar lilac dress to Rogene’s.
“The bouquet…” Rogene grabbed her hair, likely messing up the intricately woven braids and the chic updo that felt like bread crust under her fingers. She felt naked in the long, mermaid-style, lilac dress with low cleavage. Rogene’s usual wardrobe included elegant blouses and turtlenecks with suit pants or black jeans, which made her look like a professor before she even was one. “I forgot to pick up the bouquet.”
“Oh, bollocks,” Anusua muttered, abandoning her post. “Let me fetch it. What’s the address?”
Anusua was an Indian Brit, and definitely more accustomed to driving on the “wrong” side of the street. But Rogene was the maid of honor, and if Anusua made a mistake, Karin would be crushed. There was also the bagpipe player who was due to arrive any minute…
“Come on, Rory,” Anusua said. “Give me the car key.”
Anusua was right, Rogene could delegate, be part of a team.
But the 0.1 percent stopped her.
David walked towards them and opened the beautiful, massive door under the arched entryway for an old lady to pass through. Too bad the door was only a replica made in the grand restoration of the castle in the 1920s, the historian within Rogene thought distantly.
“Everything okay?” David asked.
He was so handsome in his suit, his dirty-blond hair cut in a simple, classic style that made him look older than he was.
Or, maybe, it was because he’d had to grow up sooner than he should have, especially with her abandoning him in Chicago for her doctoral program at Oxford.
“All good,” Rogene said, her voice tense.
“You aren’t going to let me help, are you?” Anusua said softly. “You know you can rely on people to give you a hand.”
Anusua sighed and walked to the old lady who had just come in, no doubt to see if she needed any help. David patted Rogene on the shoulder. “What was that about?”
“I need to go get the bouquet, but the bagpipe player still isn’t here.”
“Let me get the bouquet. You deal with the bagpiper.”
“Is your permit even valid here?”
If he misread the name of a street while driving the car on the other side of the road, she’d need to deal with a lost teenager in a foreign country. His face darkened. He knew she was thinking of his dyslexia, not his driver’s license.
“Okay,” he said. “Go. I can deal with the bagpiper.”
She sighed. That was the lesser evil, even though she did hate to leave the responsibility to anyone but herself.
“I’ll be right back. Thanks, Dave.”
She opened the arched door into the damp, freezing air of the Scottish Highlands and hurried down the old stone stairwell into the courtyard. Harsh wind blew in her face as she passed through the gatehouse with the raised portcullis and onto the long bridge that connected the island to the mainland. She barely glanced at a couple of tourists who roamed around the shape of the medieval tower back on the island.
Rogene’s heels clacked against the bridge as she ran towards the parking area. Damn it, she hadn’t taken her bolero, and it was so windy—probably because of three lochs that met here. Her lungs ached for air, and a needle pierced her side, reminding her that she should really get more exercise, not spend all her time in archives and libraries working on her PhD.
But her current discomfort didn’t matter. She couldn’t let her best friend down on her wedding day. She was already walking on a thin ice by refusing to let other people help with her research. There were two problems with that. One, her thesis supervisor was pissed off. Two, she had a bold topic, and she had no proof for it yet.
Panting, she got into the car. After three and a half years in the UK, she was used to driving on the other side of the road, and quickly navigated to Inverinate, which was ten minutes away. Luckily, there were no problems on her way, and she quickly picked up the bouquet and drove back to the castle.
When she was back in the courtyard of Eilean Donan, she saw Karin on the small landing in front of the arched entrance into the Banqueting Hall. Wind played with the long locks of her blond hair that cascaded down her back. A wreath of white heather circled her head. She was such a beautiful bride. One hand was on her flat, corseted belly, the other on her mom’s shoulder. David watched her, looking as if he’d swallowed a frog.
Rogene’s legs growing cold, she waved with the bouquet as she climbed the stone stairs, careful not to slip on the smooth surface. “It’s here! Don’t you worry, everything’s all right.”
Karin glared at her. “All right?”
Rogene swallowed as she kept climbing. Usually, Karin was sweet, but she was now definitely in bridezilla mode.
When Rogene stood in front of Karin, she handed her the bouquet and plastered a happy smile on her face. “Did the bagpipe player arrive?”
Karin paled as her eyes widened at David. “Did he?”
“Yes, he’s already inside,” David said.
Karin sighed. Her eyes glistened, and Rogene knew her best friend was on the verge of tears. “Do I look horrible?” Karin asked.
Rogene gasped. “What? No! You look amazing. Where is this coming from?”
“Even with this makeup?”
“What do you mean?” Narrowing her eyes, Rogene studied Karin. This looked like her usual evening makeup. Oh…shoot!
Karin sniffled. “The makeup woman never showed up.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Rogene said. “You look beautiful and Nigel’s going to be over the moon. Are you ready?”
Karin exchanged a glance with her mom, then took a deep, steadying breath and nodded. “Yes.” She smiled. “Let’s go...”
