Chapter Forty
“For me, life has either been a wake or a wedding.”
~Peter O’Toole
Brian entered Alistair’s office having asked for a few moments of his time at breakfast. The snowfall of two days ago had already melted from the streets, though a light dusting remained on the north facing hillsides. The long casement windows washed a pale light across the room, casting a somber pall.
Alistair motioned for Brian to take one of the maroon leather wing backed chairs in front of his desk and rose to take the other one.
“We’re glad you decided to come back to us, lad. I know the family’s grief overwhelmed all of us, but believe me, no one holds you in any way responsible for what happened to Daniel.” Alistair’s voice turned thick and gravely, choked with unspoken sadness. He stopped to clear his throat.
“I am sorry I did not contact you sooner, sir. I can barely make amends for such disrespect, but I wish to try.” Brian pulled out a check made payable to Alistair and handed it to him. “I earned a reasonable wage working long hours during the holidays. I want to repay you for the expenses you incurred on my behalf. I’m sure this check doesn’t begin to cover my debt to you.”
Alistair stared at the check shaking his head. “We were pleased to offer you shelter and help you through those difficult days of adjustment. This is a very thoughtful gesture, Brian. However, you might want to hold on to the funds for a greater purpose.” He placed the check back in Brian’s hand. “Lauren, Granny, and I have discussed your situation at length. We would like to assist you with university expenses and offer you living quarters so you might pursue your interest in medicine. You’d make an excellent pharmacist, or doctor if you prefer that field. I have some influence at the school. Gaining admission should not prove difficult.”
The man’s generosity knocked Brian completely off-kilter. “I…I don’t know what to say, sir. I already owe you too much. He pushed the check back across the desk toward Alistair. Please, my honor demands you accept this recompense. We can discuss your offer for additional assistance in a moment. First, I have another matter I must discuss with you—concerning Angel.”
A smile quirked at the edge of Alistair’s mouth, “Yes, go on.”
Brian squared his shoulders, straightened in his chair, and looked Alistair in the eye. “I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that I am besotted with your daughter.” He too found it necessary to clear his throat but didn’t turn his eyes from Alistair. “I love her, sir, and I’ve asked her to become my wife. But it isn’t right to pursue her further without your permission, despite her insistence that the decision is entirely up to her.” A thin bead of sweat trickled down his spine.
“So, even though she raged about you for weeks after you left, she’s accepted your proposal, then? Our Angel is a most forgiving lass. But make no mistake, she is her own person, and despite being as sweet as honey, she can sting like a bee when riled.”
He laughed. “Yes sir, I’ve been on the receiving end of a few of those stings.”
Alistair reached out his hand and clasped Brian’s forearm. “Welcome to the family. I’m proud to call you son.” He blinked hard a few times, repressing a sudden flood of moisture in his eyes.
Brian continued, ignoring the welling emotions. “I will bow to your advice as to the proper mourning period before the wedding.” But please, please don’t make us wait too long. Words he couldn’t possibly utter.
Alistair rose from his chair and pulled Brian into a manly bear hug patting his back enthusiastically. “I think we’ll leave that decision to the ladies? Things of that nature are not carved in stone as they once were. The women are no doubt already busily planning the celebration. Let’s see what they’ve cooked up.”
* * *
For weeks, Lauren and Granny kept Angel in turmoil with constant fretting and nattering about wedding plans. The whirlwind of activity kept Angel too exhausted to give in to despair. “All right,” Lauren ticked off items with her fingers, “My wedding dress is being altered, the invitations have been ordered, private dining room at the club booked, and the bagpiper enga—”
“Mom…bagpipes, really…what next? We have lists upon lists. It’s all rather excessive. I thought we agreed to keep the wedding a small, private affair, with family and a few friends. It’s only been a few months since Daniel…”
“Well, yes, dear, it is soon, but we could use a happy event to celebrate. You know your brother and Charlotte would both agree. And it didn’t seem right not to provide a homeland touch for Brian. No self-respecting Highlander marries without the pipes. Even your father and I had pipers at our wedding. Brian’s made such lovely friends at the Scottish Society; we can’t invite one or two and exclude the others. It’s not done.”
“Good grief! I think we should elope. How many people are you considering?” She snatched the guest list from her mother’s hand.
“Now don’t distress yourself, Angel, we’ve kept it to about a hundred people. We don’t want to slight people by leaving them out.”
Frustrated past endurance, Angel threw up her hands. Argument was futile.
* * *
As with every previous visit to Char’s home, only another layer of dust marked the passage of time. Angel bustled about dusting, vacuuming, running water down drains, checking appliances. All busy work to distract her from Char’s absence.
Brain pulled the dust rag from her hand and curled his body around hers. “Don’t fret my love, the authorities will find her.”
Angel leaned against his solid warmth unwilling to refute his words, yet not believing them either. “It has been entirely too long since we’ve had word from her. I’ve contacted everyone in her address book so many times they probably hate me.”
“It’s time to go the lawyer’s office, Angel. You don’t want to be late for the meeting.”
Unfortunately, she did. She wanted to be late. Hearing another bleak report that didn’t bring any closure to Char’s long silence would be unbearable, especially if the ever-hovering Mr. Chasewell still suspected her of wrongdoing.
To her relief, Mr. Chasewell was not present for this meeting. Mr. Tremble jumped right to the facts. “First, I’ve reviewed everything again with Mr. Chasewell and believe he has accepted your innocence in Miss Rutland’s disappearance. Her file will remain on the NCIC’s records indefinitely, or until she is found or…” He paused and busied himself shuffling papers for a moment. “Nevertheless, it will take seven years before she can be declared deceased.”
Angel slammed her hands on the tabletop. “I am not interested in having her declared deceased.” She hissed the words between clenched teeth. “I have no desire to claim her estate or her money. I want to know what has happened to her.”
“Yes, of course, of course. I’m simply providing an update, Miss Adair. And the assets are already at your disposal according to Miss Rutland’s wishes.” Angel didn’t care a bit about Char’s possessions or money. She wanted her friend found.
A hard rain fell by the time they left the lawyer’s office. “I have a terrible feeling about this whole business. I fear the worst now that her jeep has been located and she hasn’t turned up anywhere. Granny keeps saying she thinks Char will be away a very long time. She insists she’s not had any specific precognition about Char, just that she has gone on a long journey, whatever-the-hell that might mean. Sometimes I think Granny really is batty.”
Brian draped his arm across her shoulder and tucked her tightly to his side. “We have done everything we can think to do for now, Angel-mine. We will not give up. If she’s out there, we will find her.” The warmth of his body provided her only comfort.
“You’re right, we won’t give up. And we’ll move forward because that is exactly what she would want.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed the rain from his lips.