ATOP Chapter Fourteen

"Not too bad, eh?" Mac made a face at himself in the mirror and grinned over his shoulder at Jafe. "Look like an overdressed monkey, don't I. And this collar is choking me..." he made a gagging sound and Jafe chuckled. 

"Well, the womenfolk like this stuff. More comfortable in jeans an' flannel myself... gonna put that flower in your buttonhole?"

"Guess so..." Mac laughed and picked up the tiny bouquet. "Only for Lintie... ain't ever wearing no posies again..." his voice trailed off and he smiled sadly. "Poppies..." he murmured. "She put poppies in with the roses."

"Yer tie's crooked," Jafe drawled. "C'mon, lad, pull yerself together..." he wiped furiously at the corner of his eye and gave his nephew a hearty slap on the back. "Just an hour left to go, the clock's ticking!" 

Mac wasn't listening. He was looking in the mirror again... not at his own reflection, but at someone behind him...

"Well, Mum? Whaddya think?" his voice trembled slightly and he cleared his throat.

"Ach, my Mackie..." Marjorie whispered. She was standing still, just staring at him, a strange, faraway sort of smile on her lips and in her eyes. There was another soldier who had once stood before her much like this…. And his eyes seemed to echo at her from the tall, straight figure that looked from the mirror back at her.

“My boy….”  

She whisked a tear from her own eyes, and turning suddenly, he caught both of her hands in his. She smiled up at him with a heart so full it nearly burst, and his own settled into a more regular rhythm. 

“There’s never a Scott that looked finer than you on their wedding day, not a one,” she murmured and Jafe jumped in suddenly, seeing imminent danger of rising floodwaters and knowing Marjorie’s emotions lay much deeper than she let on, carrying enough memories for three weddings in her heart, saved the situation by a timely needle. 

“After you straighten his tie, Marjorie, and not a’fore tis done. Besides, you’re forgetting Duncan. I hear tell he was quite the stepper in his day.” 

Marjorie shook her head vigorously, and shot back at him.

“Not a bit, Japheth Scott, not for one moment. They ride level as ever any matched team, and so I’m telling you there was never a finer groom in the whole connection!” There was a saving flash of fire in her retort, and Jafe hid a smile under guise of closely examining his cuff links. He spoke up soothingly. 

“Yes, yes…. And who am I, sayin’ he ain’t? I agree wholeheartedly. But you must admit, Marjie, his tie is crooked." 

Marjorie’s gaze softened as she shook her head up at the tie. Jafe really wasn’t exaggerating. Mac’s tie leaned to the south in an alarming manner, tilting upwards at one tip, and altogether have the impression of wanting to take flight, and being disgruntled at the collar that kept it so firmly anchored. It really would need tending to.

As she reached up to straighten it, and it gave up all notions of mischief beneath her capable fingers, ancient words of blessing slipped like hearthlight into the front room of her heart…. And she quoth softly.

"The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: the Lord make His face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace."

She barely got the last few words out of her mouth before Mac wrapped her in an enormous hug, bending his head to hide his tears. 

"Thank you, Mum," he whispered, his voice breaking. Jafe cleared his throat hard, twice, glanced at his watch and then the clock on the dresser for good measure, and jumped to his feet. 

"Jings crivvens, laddie, d'ye wanna be late fer yer own wedding? We gotta step on it!"

♡♡♡

Katie stood in the church vestibule, clasping her bouquet of white and pink roses and flaming red poppies desperately. She was trembling all over, from head to foot, her breaths coming in short little gasps. Emma was behind her, still fussing with the veil. She never seemed quite satisfied with everything, and she never stood still. 

"Ten more minutes," Emma hissed, poking her head out from behind Katie to look desperate things at her mother. "You need to get inside!"

The last hour had been dreadful for those in charge of planning. Just getting the groom into the church without even accidentally catching a glimpse of the bride had been a struggle. He sat now in the front bench of the sanctuary, fidgeting miserably. Jafe was at his side as best man, Ronnie and Josh on the other side of Jafe, and all three of them just as uncomfortable as Mac in starched collars and ties that were just too tight. 

"Just... a moment more..." Donna whispered in response to Emma's order. She took in her youngest daughter with her eyes, almost afraid to touch her, to put so much as one wrinkle in the perfection of that beautiful dress. "I... oh, my Katie-girl..." She leaned forward cautiously to press a kiss on Katie's cheek and then turned to hurry into the sanctuary, nervous fingers fumbling with her handkerchief. 

"Well, that's that," Emma sighed at the veil, which really was lovely, and wiping furiously at her eyes, gave the wedding party one last glance. "Everyone know their places? Katie... are you ready? It's... it's time..."

Katie answered nary a word, just drew in a deep breath and slipped her hand through her father's arm as the church organ began playing.

It was time.

She took another deep breath, and willed her heart to slow down. Jim gave her arm a reassuring little squeeze, and bent his head to murmur softly, “Remember who it is waiting for you. None of the rest of this matters, it’s just you going to meet him.”

She nodded mutely, leaning her head against his shoulder like a child as he dropped a kiss in her hair. And Emma, this once, did not even look things. Sometimes it took hug-crumples and mussed chignons to make a wedding a wedding. Louisa May Alcott said so. She fished for her handkerchief suddenly, and wished Josh was there beside her. She needed to hug somebody, and she didn’t dare hug Katie, there wasn’t time, even if the dress was not in danger of crumpling. 

Oh goodness, the time…. This was no time for reflection, they had an aisle to walk down!

Everyone in the church drew in their breath, and held it as they came into view. She almost danced, their Katie, as she walked down that aisle. The butterflies stilled in awe of the occasion, and it took Jim’s arm to keep her firmly on solid ground, so light were her steps, and so full was her heart. The joy of a thousand hopes shone in her eyes, and a wonder so great it defied description.  

A stranger in the crowd declared privately afterwards that for one thing, he had never seen a lovelier bride in his life, and this as a newspaper reporter who made a business of attending weddings and describing brides. And for another, he wished there were a third Stewart sister, because clearly this Scott fellow had landed himself a pearl of great price, and he had half a notion he’d like one himself. 

The gentle sway of her skirt accentuated the simple elegance of her gown, and a ray of sunlight fell on her as if by design. A soft light shone through the veil, setting it aglow with an ethereal light. And the soldier who waited for her drank her in with his eyes.

Emma sighed rapturously. Her eyes found Rachel’s, and they silently agreed that it had been worth it. Every basting stitch and all the challenge of the uphill battle to keep secrets secret, all these found their reward in the look in Mac’s eyes as his gaze fastened on Katie in that dress. It only went to show that traditions were well worth keeping up, that was what. 

The old minister drew a shaky breath, his eyes suddenly clouded with tears that made watching the procession difficult. He searched the front row for his wife, and found her waiting for him, as he knew she would be, gentle tears matching his own. Bittersweet moments have a way of coming in life, but what tear-dampened sweetness this was. 

Jerry would have been glad for her.

♡♡♡

Mac never took his eyes off of the vision gliding toward him, and if he had not been mindful of decorum, he would have gone to meet her halfway. It took all his willpower to stay where he was, and feign patience. If he ever had a son, he was going to declare beforehand that it was perfectly permissible, and even only right, for the wedding to happen mid-aisle. He had to make a note of that. 

And then she was almost there, only steps away, and turning to kiss her dad on the cheek before she let go of his arm….

Mac forgot that his tie had ever been tight in all its uncomfortable existence. He forgot to breathe, forgot what day it was, and if, at that moment, he had been asked if he were Malcom Scott, he would have answered with an absentminded, “never heard of him,” so intent was he on Katie. 

The minister cleared his throat, and swallowed a laugh. 

“You going to marry her, boy, or just look at her?”

Mac grinned suddenly, jerking back to the full use for the rest of his senses.

“Couldn’t get me out of here without my bride if the whole congregation joined forces, sir. Ready anytime you are.”

Ronnie swallowed a chuckle, and winced as Josh jabbed an elbow in his ribs, companionably. Oh yes, Mac was ready. They knew better than just about anybody just how ready he was. 

The minister really did laugh now. 

“Alright then, let’s not keep you waiting any longer.” His voice turned solemn, and he spoke the words “Do you, Malcom Isaac Scott, take this woman…?”

 And the rafters rang with the reply. 

“I do.” 

♡♡♡

“You may now kiss the bride.”

The congregation held their breath as Malcom Scott kissed Kathryn Scott for the first time. And then he had to do it again, drawing back to grin at her joyously.

“Well, Mrs. Scott?”

Katie couldn’t find one word to fit, and settled on resting her head against his shoulder instead. He drew her close, and that was how the photographer caught them. A moment captured, framed in silver, and to be set in the place of honour on the mantle the very day their honeymoon first touched home. But that was the future, and the present was far too perfect to leave to itself. Mac, right where he wanted to be, looked out over the crowd and gave them a wink.

“Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, lads, ye c’n take my word on it. Anybody needs convincing on that, you just send ‘em my way, and I’ll give them a mile long reel on the topic.”

Jafe nodded solemnly. “He’ll do it, too.”

One stray newspaperman looked rather as if he would like to have the point expounded upon. His article could use some such intriguing stuff to lighten up the frills and bridesmaid’s dresses, and furthermore, his pen itched, but no more was said on the matter.