Kaitlyn and the Highlander

by Diana Knightley

  Someone who trusted me so much had to be trustworthy, right? But why the heck was I marrying him when I was still wondering if I trusted him? “When I was marrying Braden I was just going to go home with him afterward. I already lived there. I was used to sleeping with him. I'm going to move into a strange man's house. Hayley, you have to save me. I don't know what I'm doing.”

  “I don't know either. Half the reason I'm still with Michael is because he's already seen me with hairy legs. You're going to have to hide your razors.”

  “You're not helping. At all.”

  “I've never known or even heard of someone literally moving into their husband's house after the wedding. Does that even happen anymore? Who moves the stuff?”

  “It all fits in my Prius. It's just clothes and bedding. And my computer and video equipment.” My eyes were still shut tight.

  “So sometime between the wedding and the wedding night you're going to shuffle boxes up the stairs into your new house. This is weird.”

  “Oh no — the wedding night.”

  “Don't panic, that's the one thing you know how to do.”

  “But not with him. Holy poop, this is crazy. Please tell me something good.”

  “Okay, let me think, got it — from where I'm sitting it's likely that you'll never have to clean another bathroom.”

  “There is that. Man, I keep thinking I'm getting pranked. Like I'm going to show up tomorrow, and he's going to say, 'You didn't actually believe me did you? Who does that?' And it will be just like with Braden. Maybe there will even be a hidden camera. And I can't even talk to him about it because he doesn't have a phone.”

  “Zach does. Call him.”

  I pulled my phone from my bag and called Zach.

  “Hi Katie, I was just about to call. Magnus wanted to talk to you, and I was going to hold the phone for him because you remember what happened last time.”

  Magnus's voice in the background said, “Pray tell Kaitlyn I replaced it.”

  “He replaced my phone. I tried to buy him one while I was there, but he refused it. So I'm handing him my phone, here.”

  Magnus's voice came on, too loud. He was yelling. “Hullo Kaitlyn!” I held the phone away from my ear.

  Hayley giggled.

  “You don't have to talk so loud, Magnus. Hear my voice? This is my normal speaking voice.”

  “I will try. Tis all rather odd this machine.” His voice was much lower, almost too low, but I decided not to mention it. “Tis so small.” His voice was not directed into the microphone anymore, I heard fumbling. “Hullo?”

  My future husband didn't know how to work a phone. I sighed. “I'm here.”

  “I needed tae hear ye.” Oh. I smiled to myself.

  Hayley was hurling our car down the highway while I talked. Pretending not to listen, though she was right there and rightly curious.

  “I was worried ye might nae come. That ye might be scared tae be there.”

  “I was buying a dress and I did get scared. I thought you might not want to get married and maybe it was all a prank.”

  “A prank?”

  “Like a joke, a trick. You wouldn't show up.”

  “I will be there, at the church at three o'clock.”

  “The Episcopal church, the one on Atlantic?”

  Off the phone I heard Magnus speaking with Zach, who then called out, “That's the one. Oh also, ask her if she's with Hayley.”

  I answered, “I am, she's driving.”

  Zach came on the phone. “Put me on speaker.”

  He told Hayley that he and Michael could come to her house and pick up my things and bring them to Magnus's house while I was at the church.

  Hayley grinned at me. “That sounds great. Good plan. That was one of the million things Katie was worrying about.”

  Zach said, “You should see Magnus, he won't stop pacing. I'm thinking about feeding him dinner so he can go to bed already and stop driving us crazy.” He laughed, then hung up, and that was the end of the conversation.

  I checked the phone twice to see if somehow Magnus was still on. He wasn't. That had been a lot of discomfort for him anyway.

  Hayley said, “Your boy is nervous. How's that feel?”

  I stared out the window at the pine trees gliding by. “Terrifying.”

  Twenty-six

  I ate an early dinner with my parents because they had plans after, which was perfect, because I did not want a lingering conversation. They were going for drinks with friends, and were expected at eight. I sat down to eat a meal a lot like the one I made for Magnus the first night, roasted chicken off the rack. Mashed potatoes and mac and cheese from tubs.

  About five minutes in I said, “I have news.”

  Dad was gnawing a drumstick, his fingers covered in grease. Mom wiped her hands on a napkin. “A job, I hope?”

  “More of a fiancé.”

  I had both of their attentions now. They were staring right at me, though Dad continued to chew with greasy lips. Mom glanced at my hand, my ring finger, then squinted her eyes. “Is this Braden we're talking about, because you know how I feel about him.”

  “No, this is someone new, Magnus Campbell.”

  “He's asked you to marry him?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Mom said, “He's going to ask you to marry him tomorrow?”

  “No, he asked me to marry him yesterday, we're going to get married tomorrow. I have a dress.” I grinned, a little bit maniacally.

  Possibly it was the unstable nature of my grin that made my parents stare at me for longer. Then they began to ask confused backstory questions, like: How long have you been dating him? How long has it been serious? Do you know him, really?

  This was what my parents did, ask questions until they got the one right answer. The answer that would piece it all back into their world view.

  For a while, none of my answers were plausible enough. They left them confused, but it was my current state of mind too.

  Finally mom dropped her fork. “You're serious about this?”

  “I am.”

  Dad asked, “Is he asking you to sign a prenuptial?”

  “No, he seems to want me to have half of everything. My name will be on the paperwork.”

  Then Mom and Dad said together, “Oh!” And Mom said, “It's like a green card thing. I get it now.”

  Dad said to Mom, “I just had a meeting with Lady Mairead the other day. She was having trouble with the paperwork, so yes, this makes sense now. Well, when I'm talking business from now on it will be with my daughter, imagine that.” He took another bite of his drumstick and the two of them, having somehow figured out the 'why' of my marriage, seemed to have their minds at ease.

  Mom said, “You'll be very wealthy, congratulations.”

  “Thanks Mom.” I took a bite of mashed potatoes.

  “You said the ceremony was tomorrow? At town hall?”

  “At St. Peter's.”

  “A church wedding.” For a moment Mom was confused again, but then she shook her head of it. “Since it's for citizenship, your reasonings must be kept quiet. We don't want him sent from the country after all. So I'll just tell everyone it's for love, sound good, Katie?”

  “Sure. Will you be at the ceremony?”

  “Sure, my only daughter and my best client? Your father and I will be in the front row.”

  Twenty-seven

  I only had to survive the rest of the night. Hayley and I stayed in with some beer and a movie. We had three to choose from. Or we could watch all of them if I couldn't sleep, which was likely. Michael arrived at ten o'clock, pretty drunk from his evening with James and the gang. He curled up in the recliner, finished watching the end of the first movie, and by ten-thirty was snoring.

  Hayley crossed her eyes and joked, “If you're lucky you'll get this much romance.”

  “I can dream.”

  We put on another movie.

  At two in the morning I went up to toss and turn in my bed. My grandma used
to tell me to talk myself through what I did know, but everything was an unknown. Magnus, weddings, marriage, the future. I couldn't even wrap my head around where to start with talking myself down.

  I was going to get married.

  Tomorrow.

  To someone I barely knew.

  Twenty-eight

  The following morning everything felt like a last supper. Hayley made Michael get up and go to McDonalds for muffin sandwiches. We ate on the couch and it was poignant, especially after Hayley said, “It's our last morning as roomies!”

  I drank a lot of coffee.

  I packed my clothes and stuff into boxes and suitcases remembering the last time, when I sat in the middle of my apartment in Los Angeles, attempting to separate my belongings from Braden's, while crying, and hoping he would take pity on me and love me again. Instead he was walking around the house with a bandaid on his cheek as if he was the victim.

  I stripped the bedding off the bed and started a load of laundry. Then I ate lunch, sandwich and chips with a coke. By this time my stomach was flitting and flying around inside my ribcage.

  I took a shower. Blew dry my hair. Then Hayley followed a YouTube tutorial for putting it up in a pile on my head, with swirls and twirls and curls. With the pearl crown in the center I looked gorgeous.

  Then I put on the dress. Hayley laced the back. My breasts, generally too small for much notice, were pushed up, having, for once, a bit of cleavage. I put on a necklace, but after taking a look, Hayley and I decided it wasn't necessary. Just a plain neck, bare wrists, unadorned fingers.

  My makeup was perfect.

  All those details.

  For months I had worked on wedding plans with Braden, and here a wedding was happening in a day and a half, and the details were exactly like I wanted.

  Hayley drove me to the church. In silence. Because there wasn't much to say, and I was shaking in my boots. Or fancy white satin pumps to be exact.

  When we pulled up in the parking lot of the church, I panicked. “What if they aren't in there, what if this is all a—”

  “They are in there, because your dad's car is here. So see, they're in there.”

  I tried to stretch the tight front of my bodice to get more air. “Can you go check for me. I can't...what am I doing?”

  “First, you're taking a nice long swig of this.” She pulled a flask from her bag. “It's medicinal. Next, you're going to sit here while I go look inside.”

  She left me alone in the car and went up the front steps of the church. I sipped from the flask. Whiskey, strong, but necessary. She returned a few minutes later and pulled open the car door and leaned inside. “He's here. Oh my god Katie, he is so freaking hot. Are you ready?”

  “I am not ready. I am not at all.”

  She grabbed my hand, pulled me out of the car, and stood in front of me adjusting a tendril of hair near my ear. “Back straight.”

  “I don't want to do it. I'm scared Hayley, what if this is some huge mistake?”

  “If this is some huge mistake, you divorce his ass, and take everything he owns. But in the meantime, he's standing at the altar, waiting. By himself.”

  “I don't know if 'divorce' is the pep talk I need. I kind of feel like I'm going to throw up.”

  “You aren't going to throw up, you're going to stand tall. Straighten that back.” She pushed my shoulders and I stood straighter.

  “Take a deep breath.” I drew in some much needed air.

  “Who's thought this all through?”

  “Me.”

  “Louder.”

  “Me!”

  “Yeah, you. Who's gonna marry that hot Scotsman and tell Braden he can suck it?”

  Me!” I stretched my neck side to side.

  “Who's going to march into that church and come out rich as hell?”

  “I'm not in it for the money, but me, I am.”

  She went to my back and massaged my shoulders. “Who's the bravest girl in the world?”

  “I am.”

  “Damn right you are. You're going to take that Scotsman to bed and you'll figure out where to put his sword later.”

  “True that.”

  “You might not know half of what he's talking about, but when he says 'Aye' you get all weak-kneed, so you're going to march up those steps and right down that aisle and you're going to say I do. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Twenty-nine

  St. Peter's was a beautiful old church, right off Center Street. The kind of church that sold photo postcards in the gift shop and that tourists walked by and gawked at. It soared to the sky and had beautiful windows. It looked oppressive and important and walking up to it in a wedding dress felt so significant. I paused for a moment at the door, staring at the handle — I was scared out of my mind, but as my grandma would have said, “Pay attention to the butterflies, that's not fear, that's excitement. Because you have nothing to fear, only things to do.”

  Hayley swung open the door, and I stared into the big gaping maw of the church.

  This church, like most, was dark, barely lit. Soaring ceilings and wide windows didn't help the light situation much, but the whole combination made me feel very, very small. I had been coming here since I was a child, not often, but on holidays and special occasions. I was bigger now, but the height of the place made me feel like a child again.

  Plus it was empty. We had it all to ourselves.

  It must have cost a pretty penny to get this whole church on such short notice.

  My parents were on the left, front row. The priest was facing me. Lady Mairead was sitting in the front row on the right.

  Magnus was kneeling, in front of the priest, his back to me.

  Hayley whispered, “Who's the bravest girl in the world?”

  “I am,” and I walked down the aisle toward Magnus.

  Thirty

  When I arrived at the altar, Magnus stood, and my knees about gave out. He was so handsome, hard jawline, soft eyes, dark and mysterious. He was wearing a tuxedo on his top half with a darker more modern kilt on his bottom half. He wasn't carrying his sword. He smiled briefly, nervously, and then we stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the priest.

  The priest prayed and welcomed us. I was instructed to turn to Magnus, and we clasped hands while Lady Mairead slowly bound our wrists together with a silk rope before she returned to her seat.

  Magnus bowed his head, so I bowed too, staring down at our hands. He held mine so tight and sure, but mine trembled. I worked to settle their flutter, concentrating on the form of his hands and the strength, the way he held mine. And the heat forming between our palms.

  The priest began to speak. His words, the prayers, the solemnity and importance of their meaning filled me with calm and slowed my racing heart. Warmth spread through me.

  I was marrying Magnus Campbell before God and family. I glanced up at his face. He was stoic, solemn, strong. Clasping my hands, he made me feel safe.

  My arms grew tired, but the ropes held us together, or was it his fingers woven around mine? The priest prayed over our hands. He asked if I would be true to Magnus, forsaking all others, as long as I lived? I answered, “I will.”

  He asked Magnus if he would be true to me, forsaking all others, loving and comforting and caring and keeping, and Magnus said, his words rumbling through my head, “I will.”

  Then the priest spoke longer about the importance of our decision and the binding and union of our lives. He prayed and when he quoted scripture I heard Magnus's voice whispering along. And then the vows began.

  Magnus repeated the priest, staring into my eyes, his hands shaking with mine. “In the name of God, I take ye, Kaitlyn Sheffield, tae be my wife, tae have and tae hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, tae love and tae cherish, until we are parted by death. Tis my solemn vow.”

  Then it was my turn. I repeated the words back to Magnus, a quiver in my voice, a catch in my throat, “to have and to h
old, from this day forward...” I lifted my eyes to his and he smiled — my breath caught. I filled my lungs with the air between us. “...until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow.”

  The priest asked Magnus for the rings. We pulled our hands from the knotted rope, leaving it looped over Magnus's sleeve, and he pulled two gold rings tied with a ribbon, from his inside breast pocket. The priest blessed the rings while Magnus and I stood, six inches apart, no longer touching. I missed his hands.

  A few moments later Magnus took my hand in his. He trembled as he said, “I give ye this ring as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am and all that I have, I honor ye, in the name of God.” He slid the ring onto my ring finger.

  The priest handed me a ring. And I repeated the same words, and slid the ring onto Magnus's finger.

  This was the most I had ever touched him. We had been in close proximity on his horse, rubbing and jostling together. But here, holding his hands, was intimate and forever and intense.

  The priest proclaimed that we were married. “What God has brought together, let no man tear asunder.”

  Then we turned toward the altar, my right hand clasped in his left, and our heads bowed. The priest prayed and read scripture and prayed again. We said amen together at all the important points, and rose or knelt when asked.

  And then finally, it was over. We turned around to the mostly empty church. A few more words were spoken and my hand was clutched in Magnus's as we walked down the aisle toward the doors of the church.

  I was married. I was Kaitlyn Campbell, former YouTuber, believer in the big public life, past lover of more than one boy, now the wife of a mysterious Scotsman named Magnus.

  My parents rushed us. My mother hugged me and carried on about how thrilled she was, how beside herself with excitement. She didn't need to say it. She was in high color, carrying on as if she couldn't believe it actually happened, which was a little embarrassing for me. Did she think I was making it up? Did she come to the church to watch me fail?