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“It cannae be denied. Ye dae look wonderful.” Georgia moved to join the sisters who had just arrived, putting her arms around the pair as mischief glinted in her eyes. “I daresay she looks even better than ye did, Anna, though I suppose she doesnae have the “red mountain” sticking out of the middle of her forehead, drawin’ everyone’s attention away from the rest of her face.”
Anna cast Georgia a withering look. “Nay one noticed. Vincent said he dinnae.”
“Aye, well tellin’ fibs isnae much of a way to start a marriage.” Georgia grinned. “And let’s nae forget the hair that had all the magpies wantin’ to make nests.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “For the last time, it was my necklace attractin’ them and, right now,ye’redistractin’ the praise away from our Saoirse.”
“Sorry. Ye really dae look wonderful.” Georgia flashed Saoirse a wink. She must have known that some humor was precisely what Saoirse needed to keep the nerves at bay.
Anna nudged Georgia in the ribs. “Anyway, ye’ll be next, and I doubt there’s much that anyone will be able to dae to make an elegant bride out of ye.”
Laughing at the easy banter of her beloved sisters, Saoirse found she could not stop the tears that threatened to redden her eyes. With her sisters by her side, she could do anything. Nothing, not marriage or distance or time, would ever be able to sever the bond between them all.
“Tell me it’s nae frightenin’,” Saoirse said quietly, looking toward Anna. “Tell me that all these things I’m feelin’ are normal.”
Anna smiled. “Have ye forgotten already how I was shakin’ like a leaf on the mornin’ of my weddin’? And I’d kenned Vincent for months. Today is the day that’ll make ye want to flee, but it gets easier after the celebrations are done.”
“Just daenae flee,” Ayda chirped, “else Maither and Faither will have to chase ye down with the hounds, and nay one wants to be seein’ that on a weddin’ day.”
All of the sisters laughed, and Saoirse’s nerves settled to a bearable thrum. These girls and women would be her strength as she moved forward with her marriage, but she had to pause to think about the girls in particular. Her younger sisters. Ayda, Elena, and Isobel were too young to be given away in marriage, yet it would be their turn one day. When that day came, and upon every day beyond that where they needed her, she would be there for them, helping them through as they were helping her.
“Aye,” Iona said, interrupting the sisterly cheer. “And did you bring the flowers?”
Anna drew the bouquet up to her mother’s open, eager hands. “Freshly picked, though they were troublesome to find.” She waited as if expecting praise from her mother, but Iona was too fixated on the blooms. A curious grin spread across the older woman’s face.
Saoirse, Elena, Ayda, Anna and Georgia stared at their mother with matching, confused expressions—their mouths open, eyebrows arched with intrigue.
“Maither?” Georgia inched closer until she was peering over her mother’s shoulder and curled her fingers around Iona’s upper arms. “What are ye doin’?”
“There they are.” Iona let out a long exhale. She turned and sighed once more, contentedly, at her daughters. “White heather and thistles.”
A round of understanding nods dipped the heads of the sisters.
Saoirse’s voice hitched as she said, “It was the same for yer bouquet, was it nae?”
Iona bobbed her head, wiping an errant tear from her cheek. Her lower lip trembled. “I hope it’ll be a tradition that ye pass on to yer children.”
The girls watched their mother place the bouquet carefully on the table as her composure cracked. She kept her back to the girls as she braced her hands against the nearest chair back, but her shaking shoulders gave her away.
Saoirse went straight to her. “Maither, it will be all right.”
The others joined Saoirse, circling around their mother to lend her their strength. It appeared it wasn’t just a day of conflicting emotions for the bride.
“I just can’t believe this is all happenin’. Just seems so fast. Ye girls were just wee bairns and now look at ye,” Iona said as Saoirse exchanged a glance with Anna. A recent bride and an imminent bride; the only two, aside from their mother, who understood the pressure and expectation of a wedding and a marriage.
“Come on, Maither,” Georgia pulled Iona into a loving embrace, “This is supposed to be a happy occasion. If ye sob and gripe so, ye’ll put the rest of us off ever findin’ a husband.”
Iona managed a bittersweet laugh between tears, looking back at her girls with puffy, red eyes. “Iamhappy, my dears.” Her smile twisted and mangled into a grimace, making her true feelings unclear.
Are ye?Saoirse needed clarity, as much for herself as for her mother.
Floorboards creaked, startling the gaggle of women. “All right now, what’s all this fussin’ about?”
“Faither!” Elena and Isobel shouted as they released their mother and ran to embrace their father.
Michael McPherson, the Laird of Baxter, pried his most boisterous children off him. “Come now, this isnae the time for silliness.” He paused, giving the two girls the time to cling to him again. “And why are all of ye still in here? Is there nae a weddin’ takin’ place today? Ye should all be at the Kirk by now, preparin’ the way for yer sister.” His tone shifted, as he wrangled Elena and Isobel toward the door. “Go, all of ye. See that there’ll be a warm welcome for Saoirse.”
Corralling the rest of the sisters to the door, Michael glanced back over his shoulder. Saoirse couldn’t help but notice her father’s face beaming with pride as he stared at his daughter.
