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“But what does Matt’s heritage have to do with anything?”
“Maybe ye should ask him,” Daar suggested, nodding at the silent crow still perched on the table.
Winter tightened her fist around her statue and looked down at the bird. The crow spread its wings, lifted its beak, and let out a loud caw that echoed though Gù Brath. It rose from the table to glide past Winter, and she spun around to watch it land on Matt’s shoulder, where it looked down at the scroll in his hand.
“There—ah, there’s more,” Matt said, staring at her with unmistakably worried eyes before he looked back at the note and began reading again. “The ceremony will be presided over by Father Thomas Gregor Smythe.”
Matt looked at Winter when she gasped. “T-Tom’s a priest?” she whispered. “And—And a Gregor?” She lifted her gaze to the crow, then back to Matt. “He’s related to you? But how?”
Apparently forgetting he had a crow sitting on his shoulder, Matt shrugged. The startled bird gave a disgruntled caw and rose into flight, swooped over the stu
Winter looked down at the statue in her hand. “I don’t understand what’s going on,” she said, looking up at Matt. “Who is Thomas Gregor Smythe? And why were we just invited to our own wedding?”
“Because yer first wedding wasn’t witnessed by yer loved ones,” Daar said with a curt nod and smug smile. “I told ye that wasn’t right.”
“We have less than an hour before the solstice,” Greylen MacKeage added, and Winter looked up to find her papa smiling. “We need to get going before you miss your wedding, don’t you think?”
Winter looked around at the stu
Matt nodded and looked at Grey and Robbie. “She’s right,” he added. “It would be best if the children stay here. And anyone else who can’t make it through deep snow to the meadow.”
That left just her sisters and husbands, her parents, uncles and aunts, and a few grown cousins, Winter figured. Well so be it. Whatever they were about to encounter at the cliff, they would stand united.
Utter chaos once again ruled as parents explained to their offspring that they were leaving for a while, but that they’d be back soon to continue the party. Children cried, those staying behind tried to soothe them, and everyone else went in search of their coats and boots.
Matt took Winter by the shoulders and turned her toward him. “He’s lived here for almost three years. What do you know about Tom?”
“Absolutely nothing,” she said, clutching the statue between them. “Only that he showed up one April morning, moved into your cabin, and that his carvings are beautiful works of art.” She shrugged. “I don’t even know how he supports himself. He always gives the money from his carvings to people in town who need a little financial help.”
“He was obviously a pilot,” Matt said, “considering how he handled that jet this morning.” He shook his head. “I don’t know any Thomas Gregor Smythe.”
“D-do you think it’s safe for everyone to go to the meadow?” Winter asked. “What if it’s a trap?”
“To trap what, lass? A bunch of women and a few men, most of them old? For what purpose?”
He smiled and smoothed her hair back from her face. “You’ve trusted Tom this long, maybe you should trust him now. You’ve never felt anything dark or foreboding when you were with him, have you?”
“No,” Winter said softly, looking down and fingering the head of the bear statue. “I always felt…I felt peaceful when I was with Tom.” She looked up. “Didn’t he make you want to just crawl up on his lap and tell him all your secrets?”
Matt gave her a lopsided grin. “No, I can’t say Tom ever had that affect on me,” he drawled.
He took the statue from her and studied it. “Is this us?” he asked, holding it up for her to see. “In our cave, that first night I came to you?”
“No, the second night,” Winter told him, taking back the statue. “Once there were no secrets between us, and you came back and kept my nightmares away, holding me safe and secure so I could have a dream that promised hope for our future.”
Matt had just cupped her face and was leaning down to kiss her when he suddenly stilled with the strangest expression. He slowly broke into a smile that made his eyes gleam with golden warmth, and he kissed her tenderly on the mouth. “Are you ready to hear me repeat my vows of trust and loyalty to you, Winter?” he whispered, pulling mere inches away from her lips.
“Yes, I am.”
He kissed her again, then straightened with a laugh. “Then come on, Mrs. Gregor,” he said, taking her hand. “It’s time to go meet our future.”
Chapter Twenty-six
T he new road leading down beside the meadow could have been in Boston during rush hour, it became so clogged with vehicles. Then, getting everyone across Bear Brook without anyone drowning was a feat worthy of an engineer. Robbie ended up having to carry Daar through the deep snow, as the old priest had refused to stay at Gù Brath and miss all the excitement. There were less than five minutes remaining to the solstice by the time everyone was standing at the base of the cliff, though they could have been in church they were so quiet. Even the late-December weather was cooperating; the low-hanging sun was shining a weak but brilliant red, not a whisper of wind was blowing, and the air felt like Indian summer in October.
Tom suddenly appeared, walking up from the meadow and silently moving to stand at the base of the cliff in front of everyone. At least Winter was pretty sure it was Tom. The man had Tom’s expressive eyes and features, but he was cleaned up quite nicely and dressed in a ceremonial robe and headdress like nothing Winter had ever seen before. The long robe was modern if not futuristic looking, while still possessing ancient Celtic detail. Across the front of his…cassock, for lack of a better word, was a large depiction of a tree of life embroidered in what looked like spun gold threads. The tree wasn’t any species Winter recognized, but looked to be a combination of both a majestic oak and a mighty eastern white pine.
Tom raised his hands and cleared his throat, though it wasn’t really necessary since everyone was curiously silent. “I wish to thank you all for coming here today, to witness Winter and Matt pledging themselves to each other,” Tom said, his soft voice carrying over the crowd.
Winter opened her mouth, but quickly closed it again when Matt squeezed her hand.
“Laird Greylen and Grace,” Tom said, inclining his head toward them. “You’ve given the world a remarkable group of girls, and I wish to personally thank you for that.” His eyes twinkled. “I am also thankful you didn’t stop at only six daughters, as I am especially endeared to your seventh.”
This time when Winter tried to speak up, Matt wrapped his arm around her and squeezed.
“And Pendaär,” Tom addressed next, looking at the frail priest standing beside Robbie. “You served your calling well and can finally find peace in the knowledge that you are the very reason we’re here today. Enjoy your retirement, old man, and bask in the sun on your mountain for a good long while yet.”
“MacBain,” Tom said with a chuckle when Robbie groaned at the prospect of Daar’s longevity.
“I wish to thank you for taking such special care with my grandmother these last twenty-five years, by being both Winter’s guardian and friend.”