Previous Section, Section VII
Section 20
I drove home after Tony dropped the bomb and laid out details. Maggie met me at the car but my expression must have been forbidding.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing. I just need some time to think."
She didn't buy the 'Nothing' answer, but she let me walk away.
There's a hill that overlooks my family's property. The house, barn, fields and everything. A two-track runs up the side, and a split-rail fence marks off the boundary between road and field. Few people used it, and that was where I wound up.
Henry Bernhard was a respected professor, even if the majority of his students hated him. He was demanding and held his students to a higher standard than most, and that often meant longer, tougher papers and excruciating exams. After everything, however, his students thanked him. Bernhard knew his stuff. And they wanted me to replace him.
The job offer was lucrative. I would be teaching much the same things as at Smith Union, and the pay would be better. I would have the freedom to pursue more of my own projects; I could start the book of poetry I had been wanting to write. The project had been shelved indefinitely when I met Maggie. If I was still unattached there wouldn't have been a problem, I would have taken the position in a heartbeat. But I was engaged to be married and I had to take into consideration Maggie and Dylan, not to mention her family. Without thinking I knew Richard Mitchell wouldn't be too pleased if I took his favourite daughter far, far away to Ireland.
Clouds were rolling in, thicker and heavier than they had been earlier in the morning. Perhaps it was some sign, an external indicator of internal turmoil. I wanted the job. I wanted to move back to Ireland. I missed my family and most of my friends. But... I loved Maggie and I didn't want to ask her to move everything and change all she'd known to accommodate me.
"All right, it's been an hour. What's up?" Maggie asked, leaning next to me on the fence. "How's your friend?"
"Miserable, as usual."
"And you're in a nasty mood because you're one of those sympathetic types?"
"No."
A few minutes of silence.
"It's beautiful here," she said.
I nodded.
"What did your friend have to say?"
I took my time in answering, choosing to study the sheep grazing in the field below. "He offered me a job," I said.
"What?"
"One of the professors is retiring in a few years and he wants me to take the job."
"And?"
"And I told him that I'd have to think about it and talk it over with my fiancée. But-" I stopped. I didn't want to say 'I'll probably refuse it.' To say it left a certain finality hanging above my head.
"You miss it here," she said.
I ignored the fact that it was a rather obvious and stupid question, of course I missed being home. I pulled her close, holding onto the one fixed thing in my life. No matter what happened, she was with me and she would be with me for the rest of our lives.
"Do you think Dylan will hate us for moving here?"
"What?"
"Come on, Brian. You know you'll hate yourself for not taking the change. You'll be miserable and will be hell to live with and I don't want that. Dylan likes it here, I like it here, and I know you want to move back. I don't see a choice here."
"It means uprooting your life and moving somewhere that you don't know anyone," I said.
"And you did the exact same thing when you were my age," she said, poking my hand.
"But that was just me. Now it's me, and you and Dylan. It's different now."
"Yeah, I guess it is. I know people here. I have family here now, and Dylan has cousins. And you had a job when you moved to America. I'm sure I could find something."
"I wouldn't want you to work," I said.
"That's neither here nor there, but we can talk about it later. You should take the job. Brian, you want to take it and I know you want it."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked.
Maggie paused, thinking. "Yes. I do. We can talk about it more later, but essentially yes, I have no problem moving here."
"I love you. You are the most wonderful person I know."
"It's a good thing you're marrying me," she said. "You'll be able to stop laying it on so thick."
"Ah, but you see, I won't. I happen to think you deserve every single compliment and I'm not going to stop any time soon. You'll just have to get used to it."
Regan and Davy were waiting for us when we returned. It was raining by then and Maggie and I were drenched, but Regan still barrelled out of the house and tackled Maggie.
"Ooh, I've missed you!" she squealed. "I want to see the rock!"
Maggie may have seen nothing wrong with staying outside in the pouring rain, but I went inside. The girls followed a few seconds later.
"Oh my God, Brian, how many diamonds are on that ring?"
"Nine, if I remember correctly. Why? Not enough?"
Regan rolled her eyes. "Never enough."
"Too much!" Maggie said. She was grinning and didn't mean it.
"So. You like it here?" Regan asked. I handed Maggie a towel and she began to dry her hair.
"Love it! Even with all the rain."
"Next time you come you'll have to visit Davy and me. Not after the wedding since, well, we won't be around and for a while after we get back you won't want to be coming 'round. I'm sure you understand."
Maggie blushed and looked away, mumbling an "Oh, yeah." Regan laughed.
"So, Brian, life's better now that you're getting laid on a regular basis, right?"
"Somehow I'm not surprised that you're saying that but it's none of your business."
"Sure it is!" she said. "You're my big brother and I have your best interests at heart."
"No, you just want to embarrass me, which everyone seems to enjoy doing."
"Sweetie, we've been through this before. You let people embarrass you," Maggie said, pushing the towel back into my hands as she started for the stairs. "You let it bother you."
Regan nodded in agreement. I thought about it for a moment, which was all the time I had, and agreed as well. In as much time as it took me to think I decided to not let their teasing bother me. I'd start right away. Some things really are that simple.
"Life is wonderful, Regan. I'm going to enjoy being married."
"Thank you!" Maggie shouted from the bedroom. Regan, Davy and I laughed. We really couldn't try anything, the walls were that thin. I was grateful my mother was out shopping and my father was in the barn, with Dylan. The only people in the area were the four of us.
The next few days flew by. Maggie spent most of the time helping Mum, Regan, and the rest of the ladies with preparations for the wedding. The menfolk, including myself, were kept away for the most part. We were told it would be a simple ceremony, only family and close friends, but the reception would be a party to end all parties.
Finally the day came and we were running late. Liam had already taken most everyone to the church and had come back for Maggie, Dylan and myself.
"Maggie, hurry up!" I shouted up the stairs. "They're going to start without us!"
"I'm coming, hold on!" she replied.
And she appeared on the stairs, an angel in some floaty kind of summer dress and her wavy hair down around her shoulders. Thankfully it was a warm, sunny day ... but she was absolutely beautiful.
"Ah, well, we can't go now," I said, grinning. "It's not good for a guest to be better looking than the bride. It wouldn't do."
"Wow, Mum, you look great!" Dylan said.
"Thank you, sweetie," she said. She bent and kissed his cheek, then turned to me. "As for you, if I don't go you don't go, and Regan will kill us both. And it's impossible to outshine the bride on her wedding day."
Dylan rode up front with Liam, who was quickly becoming his next favourite person, while Maggie and I sat in the back.
"And you're very handsome today yourself," she said quietly. I kissed her hand.
Everything went as planned. Regan Louise Campbell and Brian Andrew Davison were married in a shockingly traditional ceremony, given the couple; the bride wore white and the groom wore a tuxedo. Regan carried white roses and was given away by our father. The ceremony was held in a church, officiated by a priest. The crowd threw rice. Photographs were taken and we all headed for the reception.
At the reception hall we were met with at least a hundred strong of family friends and those who didn't make it to the ceremony. The DJ had already started the music; the bar was open; the buffet was laid out; and the party had all ready started.
Regan had designed her wedding dress specifically for freedom of movement, and once she and Davy had been announced, taken their places at the head tables, she took off for the dance floor. Maggie followed right away, leaving me and my new brother in law alone, but not for long. Our respective ladies came and retrieved us shortly after, even though my progress with dancing lessons had been even less than Maggie's with cooking.
Everyone was having a grand time, the adults taking full advantage of the open bar, the children running around and screaming, and sampling the libations of the adults. Dylan, for one, was quite tipsy by the time the children were taken back to the Campbell house.
And it was in this inebriated state, much later in the evening, that Moira approached Maggie. I tried to intervene; it would not be an attractive confrontation. I had only seen Maggie drunk once, and she was very silly. Moira, when under the influence, was not.
"Moira, no," I said, catching my sister around the waist. "This is not a good time!"
"As good a time as any!" she snapped back. "She'll be on her best behaviour now. She won't make a scene then, will she?"
It wasn't a question I could answer. I didn't know, and wouldn't put it past Maggie to make a scene if threatened. Maggie was on the dance floor with Regan and a few of Regan's friends, having a very good time and waiting for me to join her. Instead she got Moira.
"Why are you with my brother?" Moira asked.
Maggie blinked and stopped dancing.
"Because I love him," she answered.
"Not because you're a trollop looking for a father for her son?"
"Excuse me?"
"This whole thing seems rather rushed. You met last fall and were dating by December, then engaged by March. Looks to me like you wanted to make sure he wouldn't get away."
"Are you insinuating that I tried to trap him?" Maggie asked. Most action stopped to watch the show.
"I only say what I see," Moira said.
"Get your eyes checked," Maggie shot back. "I'm the one that kept things from moving too fast. Why don't you trust his judgment?"
"He's made some big mistakes."
"And you think I'm one of them."
"You are young enough to be his daughter."
"Only if he got my mother pregnant at fifteen."
I could almost see the hackles rising. Things were getting bad.
"Brian, stop this!" Regan hissed.
"I can't," I said.
"Look. I think it's great that you're concerned about Brian, but you need to trust his judgment. So you want to make sure I'm not after Brian because he'll be a father for Dylan and that I'm worthy of him. Okay. Aside from the fact that Regan already came and screened me before Brian and I actually started dating, I'll tell you.
"My birthday is October 7th and I'm 25 years old, almost 26. I had Dylan at the age of 18. My boyfriend, his father, broke up with me when I found out I was pregnant and I've raised that boy since then. I have a good job that I've held since leaving high school. I haven't dated since Dylan was born and I was damned reluctant to start dating Brian. It took me three months to finally decide that I wanted to be with him. He's the kindest, gentlest man I know, but I don't have to tell you that. He's your brother. I love him, and he's the man I want to help me raise my son.
"I haven't trapped him into anything. He's had ample opportunity to walk away but he hasn't. He knows I'm not perfect, even though he may think I am, but he knows I'm not. Of course I'm not going to pass up the opportunity to be in a relationship with a man like Brian. I'd be an idiot if I did that. Brian's a grown man. Let him make his own choices."
By then everyone was engrossed in the goings-on on the dance floor. Even the DJ had stopped playing. Tension was high and palpable. We were all waiting for Moira's next move. And she surprised all of us.
"Welcome to the family," she said, throwing her arms around Maggie's shoulders. Moira's husband immediately went and pulled her away.
"Time to go, love," he said.
Maggie was dazed and walked over to me as the music started again.
"What just happened?" she asked.
"You just passed the Irish Inquisition," I said. "Quicker than most. Rumour has it she made Davy cry."
"I don't have to go through that again, do I?"
"No. Only if you break up with me and start dating Liam. But he'd have to divorce his wife and that's not about to happen."
We looked over to where Liam and Rachel were feeding each other bits of wedding cake.
"I'm not feeding you cake until we're married, sweetheart. And I'm going to smash it in your face."
"I expect nothing less."
"Brian? Take me home before I get sick. I don't feel too good."
Such partying was not seen again, at least by us, until our own wedding. Maggie's hangover from Regan's wedding lasted three days. Mine was only slightly shorter.
What happened in that year? Well, I formally filed the adoption papers and was able to present them to Dylan at Christmas. He was officially my son and the both of us were very pleased with that ... and he started calling me Dad right away. I was thrilled.
I was granted my sabbatical and began making plans with Maggie. We had agreed, with further discussion, that I would take the job in Ireland. A formal proposal had been made a few weeks after we returned to America, with all the details laid out in black and white. Maggie and I decided to move to Ireland for the semester. Maggie would know what it was really like to live there and Dylan would go to school for the fall term. We'd find out if we really wanted to live there.
Celia was absorbed in wedding preparations. Almost as soon as we got back to America she was whisking Maggie off for fittings and meetings and all sorts of things related to the wedding. I was given the monumental task of choosing my groomsmen and making sure they had tuxedos. I had chosen not to wear a kilt after all, which improved Celia's opinion of me. The reception wouldn't be at our house either. We had decided to follow Regan's example and were having a relatively small ceremony. The rest of the guests would be at the reception, and even then the numbers went into three hundred plus. Richard insisted on paying for everything.
I went easy on my students at the end of the winter semester and gave the final three weeks before the end of the term. Final grades were tabulated within a week and the rest of the semester we watched good film adaptations. I didn't want to be reading papers and checking exams up so close to my wedding. My nerves were shot and my nails were severely mutilated.
The day drew closer and Maggie moved into her mother's house. I was going crazy. Dylan stayed and ended up making sure I ate and slept.
"Dad," he said, "You look terrible."
"Keep it up and I'm sending you to your grandmother," I replied with a scowl.
"Yeah, right. Mum's paying me to make sure you stay sane. I'm supposed to tell her if it looks like you're getting cold feet, whatever that means. You wear socks."
"That's not what she means. How much is she paying you?"
"Ten dollars a day. And a new GameBoy for when we go to Ireland."
"Sellout."
The day came and I was sick as a dog. The bachelor party was the night before, and while I didn't get drunk I still had a fair bit and was paying tribute to the porcelain god before going to bed. Most of it was nerves.
I was trying to stay calm when all I wanted to do was anything but stand there waiting. I wanted to make sure Maggie was in the church and wasn't standing me up. Max didn't help. He kept checking that he had the ring and occasionally pretended to have lost it. Then he was making remarks about how long it was taking the women to show up. I didn't know what was taking so long and I was deadly afraid that it was Maggie who had gotten cold feet.
There was a string quartet playing Death and the Maiden, which Celia naturally objected to given the theme, but Maggie and I had agreed on it. Richard had practically given Maggie carte blanche when it came to wedding expenses; she was his princess and he was giving her a storybook wedding to prove it. One last huzzah before giving her up to a new hero.
The music stopped and my anxiety mounted. Everyone looked to the rear of the church. Groomsmen and bridesmaids were lined up and I still couldn't see Maggie. But at least she hadn't bolted. The wedding march started and I held my breath. First came her two sisters as bridesmaids, escorted by a couple of my friends from the soccer league. They were followed by Stephanie as maid of honour, then Dylan and Lisa as ring bearer and flower girl.
Then there was Maggie. I exhaled. I knew she was beautiful, and I knew that women are even more beautiful on their wedding day, but I had not expected what I saw. The day was overcast, but as she walked down the aisle I swear the sun came out and made her glow. Her gown was a light blue and flowed around her legs, with long, loose sleeves and a square neck. Her hair was pulled away from her face into a mass of curls that hung down her back.
"You're a lucky man," Max whispered. I could only nod.
The ceremony went by in a blur and before I had completely realised it, Maggie was my wife and we were sprinting down the aisle, laughing like fools. We were showered with birdseed on the way to the limo.
"I say we forget the reception and go straight to the airport."
Maggie shook her head, sending birdseed falling to the floor and into my lap. I pulled her close and kissed her.
"Sounds good to me," I said, nuzzling her neck. "But I think our guests would be disappointed. And our flight doesn't leave until midnight."
"Then we could go home first," Maggie said, a dirty grin on her face. "I managed to leave a few bits of lingerie in your underwear drawer."
"You're really making it difficult."
"I'm your wife. I'm allowed to. God, I can't wait to get out of this dress."
"You should have done what Regan did, and gotten a dress you could dance in."
"Regan didn't have to deal with my mother," Maggie said, raising an eyebrow. "I fought her for the blue. Mom wanted me in white."
"I like the blue. It suits you."
"Gee, thanks. And if I had worn white?"
A test question. I bought a little time and poured out two flutes of chilled champagne.
"I would have come up with something else to say," I said. I handed her a glass. "I never could picture you in white."
"Too pure and virginal?" she asked. Another test question.
"No, too traditional."
"Like a tux?"
I grinned. "Touché."
"I was looking forward to the kilt," she said, kissing my chin.
"Maggie, I've married you fifteen some odd times in a kilt. I've never married you in a tuxedo. I thought it would be a nice change."
"Renaissance Festivals don't count. If they did ... I could've changed my name long ago. But you do look good in a tux." She was undoing my tie and unbuttoning the first few buttons of my shirt. We didn't have to speak for a while.
"Ready to face the lions?" I asked as the limo oozed to a stop.
"Not really," Maggie said. She peered out the window of the limo only to have the door open. "I guess we don't have a choice. Let's go."
Regan knows how to throw a party, but in comparison to this one hers was Sunday tea. The cheers were deafening as we were announced, and I rather liked hearing "And now, for the first time ever, let me present Doctor and Mrs. Brian Campbell!" shouted into a microphone and coming out of speakers taller than I was. The DJ had come highly recommended by James, who was in attendance with his girlfriend Angie.
Maggie slapped her handbag on the table and nearly dragged me to the dance floor for our first official dance as a married couple.
"It's official," I murmured. "We're married."
"Yes, that's what the priest said, sugar. And the DJ. Is it just now sinking in?"
"No, not really. As far as I'm concerned we've been married since you moved in."
"We should have eloped," she said.
"Yes," I replied. "But Celia would have killed me, and I wouldn't have been much use to you."
"Yeah. I'd hate to be a widow a day after I'm a bride. This is much better."
"And much more public. People in Zimbabwe know we're married."
"That's my mom. If she'd had her way, it would have been announced on the Today Show."
"And why wasn't it?" I asked. I'd believe anything.
"Ran out of air time. Al Roker spent too much time out in the plaza talking with someone from Juneau. Mom was mad enough to spit nails. Wrote a letter asking for Roker's resignation and everything."
The music was changing tempo, transitioning to a faster dance hit from the slow jazz of our song. Everyone around us was thrashing around in a techno blitz but Maggie and I were alone in our own little world. It was just us, our day, our night.
Someone had had the brilliant idea of giving each guest a small bell to ring when they wanted us to kiss. It's tradition. After the second song ended the room was echoing with the small, tinny ringing of a thousand tiny bells, accompanied by silverware tapping against water glasses and fists pounding the tables. Maggie and I were asked to be performing monkeys, but it's tradition, and one that neither of us minded.
"Hold on," I muttered. Maggie raised an eyebrow, but her fingers closed around my jacket. I swung her around and dipped her, leaving a slow, lingering kiss on her lips. The room erupted again with cheers.
"I think that went well," I said.
Maggie was blinking, the grin on her face going from ear to ear. She was a bit dazed. "Honey, you can kiss me like that any time," she said.
Dinner was spectacular. Maggie had managed to talk Celia into lasagna, one of my favourites. I'm not hard to please in that respect. After dinner, though, were the toasts. Richard was first.
He stood and all eyes were on him. Usually he was never at a loss for words or always had something ready. That night he pulled out a small stack of note cards, perhaps five. He looked at them, shuffled through them once, and set them down.
"I don't know what to say," he started, speaking quietly into the microphone. A few murmurs worked their way through the assembled guests. "I had something written out, but those words don't fit right now. I watched Maggie grow up from a little girl in pigtails to the woman you all see now. I thought her life was going to be anything but what it turned out to be. I never expected her to end up with someone like Brian, but I've been wrong before and in this case I'm glad. I know he'll take care of her and make her happy. I would like you all to now raise a glass to Brian and Maggie and with me, wish them happiness in their new life together."
The adults raised their glasses of champagne or drink of choice; not to be outdone, the children raised small flutes of sparkling grape juice and soda. Then another round of enthusiastic bell ringing, and Maggie and I were more than accommodating.
The microphone was passed and Max stood up. "Hey, hey, Best Man here. My turn. Maggie, I hope you know you just married a man with Manchester United boxer shorts." There were a few titters in the audience; most didn't know who or what Manchester United is. Max remedied that situation right away. "That's a soccer team in the UK."
"Oh, I know, Max," Maggie said. "I just want to know how you know."
Laughter mixed with catcalls roared through the banquet hall. Max just shrugged it off.
"That's privileged information, Mags. Anyway, these two are like the poster children for Happily Ever After. I've seen them fight, and they're making up before they're done. Today is a great ending to one fairy tale and the start of a new one. To Maggie and Brian, and Happy Ever Afters."
Glasses were raised, bells were rung, and Maggie and I kissed again. It was a pattern that I had not problem continuing ... As I've said before, kissing Maggie is one of my favourite things. And then it was my turn to give a toast.
"Thank you, Richard and Max, for such kind words. I'm saving mine for my wife, however, and I hope you don't mind. Maggie has filled my life with light, and laughter and love. She's given me a son that I love dearly, and don't have to toilet train. I don't know where I would be without them. To my wonderful, loving wife Maggie, and the future."
I'm easy to please. So long as I can kiss my wife I'm happy, and that day I was being made to by our guests. I was in seventh heaven.
Even in heaven, though, there are cloudbursts.
"As long as it's open mic," someone said, taking an extra microphone and stepping onto the lighted dance floor. There was a collective gasp from those who recognised Jimmy Walker. Various people stood up, most of the men and a few of the women. "Oh, hey now, wait a minute. Calm down, I'm not here to start something. Just sit down and hear me out."
Maggie reached for my hand under the table. No one trusted him, no one who knew the history, anyway.
"I know I crashed your reception, but I wasn't invited, naturally, and I had to get this off my chest. Maggie, I'm sorry. For all the crap I've put you through for the last nine years. If I'd accepted my responsibility then things might've been different. Instead I acted childish, foolish, and cowardly. And you found someone to take on my responsibility, who wanted to. I screwed up. I let a great woman, one of a kind, go, because I was too immature to know what I had. So Campbell, don't mess up. You'll regret it for the rest of your life. And that's all I've got to say."
He handed the microphone back to the DJ and walked out. That's the last we ever saw of him.
Things were quiet until Angie, James' girlfriend, gave the signal that Jimmy Walker was gone. Then no one quite knew what to do. Maggie looked at me, shrugged, and stood up.
"Gimme the mic," she said. The DJ ran one up right away. "Forget about Jimmy. He knows how to ruin a mood. I dated him through high school, anyway, and lots of things happened, and we broke up. He's Dylan's biological father, that's the responsibility he was talking about. Brian adopted him, Dylan. Brian's the one that wanted him. Brian's the one that wanted me. He'll tell you that I'm the one that could have had any guy I wanted but I chose him when really, he chose me. He could have opened any door, the day we met, for anybody, but he opened the door for me, and I tripped. I fell into him, and that was the start. So really, you never know what'll happen when you open a door. So that's my toast," she said. Her lips were trembling, the hand that held her glass shook. She was about to cry. "To opening doors."
I stood up and folded her into my arms as everyone toasted us. She started laughing and pulled away, bringing the microphone to her lips once more.
"Aw, geez," she said and wiped tears away from her cheeks. "I've gotta do this all again day after tomorrow. I can't spend too many tears here. Come on, let's dance!"
"And that, sweetest, is how your mother and I met, and fell in love, and married. And then, almost three years to the day of our anniversary, your mother told me that we were going to have a baby, and here you are."
Two large brown eyes looked up at me. I'm not sure if they comprehended the whole story, but I'd have plenty of time to tell it again.
"Brian, she's only one week old!" Maggie said as she stepped from the bathroom, still towel-drying her hair.
"It's never too soon to be telling stories," I said.
"But not the unedited version of our life!"
"Like you said, Maggie my sweet, she's only one week old. All she knows is that I'm her father and I have a very nice voice. She didn't cry once."
"True. Not once in the four days it took to tell the story. I'm surprised you haven't lost your voice."
"I did take time to sleep, you know," I said. Maggie took our daughter from me.
"And now it's time for her to sleep. You're going to spoil her."
"It's my prerogative," I said. "But I don't think I'll spoil her as much as I'm going to spoil her mother. I can't believe you'd want to do that more than once."
"It's not like I had much of a choice," she said, settling the baby in her bassinet. "They come when they want. And it's been a while since I last gave birth. Time has dulled the memory of the pain."
Maggie sat down gingerly beside me and pulled my arms around her.
"Maybe you should write a book," she said as she rested her head on my shoulder. "Write out the whole thing. That way our children and our children's children can read it."
"That's a good idea. That can be the unedited version and I'll make up something else for a bedtime story."
"So long as you save something for me," Maggie said. "My poet."
"Always, my love," I replied. "Always."
And we all lived happily ever after...