Or merry solstice, if you prefer! Here’s a draft of what might be the ending chapter of Girl from a Brigadoon–someday.
Hope you enjoy.
It was late as she walked the last block from the club to her building, snow falling softly all around her, glittering silver in the amber and white lights from the streetlamps and sconces between work and home. There was no wind and the snow seemed to dampen the sounds of the city somehow. Even the city that never slept seemed to somehow be slumbering now, on this, the longest night of the year.
The evening had been spent buried in reports, slogging through a pile of data and paperwork as she and Jim struggled to get a real handle on everything that had happened in the past three months.
September felt like a lifetime ago.
It practically was, Brigid thought with a rueful smile, stopping at the corner as a car drove past, its tires making soft noises in the snow and damp. Somewhere in the city, there must have still been stores open, shopping happening. She knew that out in the park, the nahuali were celebrating the solstice night in their own way. Down at St. Malachy’s, Orestes would be holding a late mass. She half wondered who might be there.
It didn’t really matter.
She crossed the street once the car was gone. There were a few lights on in her building, but none of them belonged to people she knew, except for the tree that lit Mat and AJ’s window. Further up, her apartment was dark except for the candles in the windows. At least the twins had remembered to unplug the tree before going to bed.
The doorman nodded to her, holding the door as she stepped in from the chill, not quite realizing how cold it was outside until she got into the warmth of the lobby. She smiled at him.
“Thanks, Derrek.”
“Have a good night, Commander,” he said, then resumed his vigil, sipping from his ever-present travel mug of coffee, his gaze drifting back toward the snowy streets outside. Brigid scuffed her boots along the runner beyond the door, then headed for the elevator. The damp more than the cold had set her knee to aching. A hot shower and her bed sounded wonderful.
Her phone buzzed as she got into the elevator. She punched the button for her floor and leaned back against the wall, shucking her gloves to check her messages. Just a text from Jim saying that he’d gotten home safely. He’d left nearly an hour before she had, but he’d had a longer commute than she had, after all. She sent him a thumbs-up, then put her phone back into her pocket as the elevator doors opened on her floor.
The wreath on her door greeted her as she dug her keys out. A feeling of calm settled over her, a welcome relief after another long day. The work seemed endless these days and that feeling didn’t seem likely to go away anytime soon. At least one night was done.
She dropped her keys on the console next to her front door as she stepped inside her apartment. In the light from the hall and the flickering of the television screen, she could see him asleep on the couch, clearly having lost a battle to wait up for her. Brigid smiled and closed the door behind her, not bothering with the light and hardly wanting to disturb Robert. If he’d fallen asleep on her couch, there was good reason for it.
The day’s mail was piled on the console, brought up thanks to the twins when they’d come home from the last day of school before winter break. On top was a small box marked international mail. Her heart started to beat a little faster. Swallowing hard, she gathered it up and crept to the kitchen with that box, shedding her coat on the way.
She turned on the light over the sink and peered at the return address on the parcel. A lump rose in her throat, butterflies exploding in her stomach. She glanced back toward the living room, toward the back of the couch and the flickering television. Her heart felt like it might beat out of her chest and she took a pair of slow, deep breaths, trying to calm herself before she slipped back into the living room.
Robert stirred slightly as she sat down on the edge of the couch and touched his shoulder. “Robin?” she whispered, shaking him gently. “Sweetheart, wake up.”
He made a quiet sound, then one eye cracked open, regarding her with a mixture of annoyance and elation. “You’re home,” he murmured sleepily. “What time is it?”
“Late,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He shifted on the couch, then started to sit up, blinking at her in the dim. “You didn’t know I was going to come.”
“No,” she admitted. The box sat in her lap and now she held it with both hands, clutched it like it was something precious.
If Laurie had been able to do what he’d set out to do, it was something precious.
Robert studied her for a few seconds, then glanced down to the box. His brow arched slightly. Swallowing hard, Brigid handed it to him.
“Open it,” she whispered.
“What is it?”
Her voice came thick from her throat. “Just open it.”
A faint frown creased his forehead, but Robert didn’t argue. He took the box, unwinding the paper wrapping, half tattered from its transatlantic journey, then began to open the box beneath. Nestled in brown paper cushioning inside the box was a small box made of wood, a celtic knot burned into the lid. Brigid held her breath as Robert arched a brow, glancing at her as he took the wooden box from its nest. There was something almost tentative in the way he lifted the lid, as if he’d suddenly started to suspect what it was that had arrived.
Inside that small wooden box lay a ring of knotted metal, rose gold with silver and gunmetal gray, resting on a bed of wine-dark velveteen. It was so simple and yet—
“Brigid,” he whispered, not daring to look at her. “Is this–?”
“He promised,” she said, tearing her gaze away from the ring to search his face for something even she couldn’t define. “But—”
“But nothing,” Robert said softly, discarding the packing box and settling the wooden one on his knee. He started to take off his gloves, taking a slow breath much like the ones she’d taken in the kitchen before she’d awoken him. Carefully, he lifted the small loop of metal from the box, sliding it onto the ring finger of his right hand.
“Does it feel any different?” she asked, her voice barely audible. Robert looked at her, his brow still furrowed slightly.
“Not really,” he said softly. “But then, there’s only one way to really test it, isn’t there?”
She frowned, meeting his gaze. Her eyes began to sting as her heart plummeted. “I don’t—it’s—”
“And if we’re going to test it,” he continued, “even if it doesn’t work, I want to make this worth it.”
That was all the warning she got before her kissed her. For a second, she stiffened, panic trying to seize her as memories flooded back of the only other time she’d ever kissed him and what it had done. This would be worse if Laurie’s gift didn’t work.
Then she realized his hand was on her cheek and he hadn’t drawn away—instead, he was kissing her harder, more hungrily.
A sound that was half a laugh, half a sob tore free of her throat and she kissed him back, her heart soaring. She felt him laugh as she wrapped her arms around him, the fingers of his free hand tangling in her hair. When they finally came up for air, he rested his forehead against hers, grinning boyishly.
“I’d say that it works,” he whispered, thumb stroking her cheek, wiping away a tear that had welled up and started to roll down her face. “I’ll have to thank him sometime.”
“Both of us will,” Brigid breathed, then smiled. “Oh my god, it works.”
“It does.” Robert kissed her nose, smiling. “And it feels incredible.”
Brigid laughed and buried her face against his shoulder, hugging him hard. Her heart felt like it might burst out of her chest and she could hear his heartbeat, too, strong and going as fast as hers.
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “My Brigid.”
“I love you more,” she said into his neck, holding on tighter. “God, Robin.”
He laced his fingers through her hair, resting his cheek against her head. “I never thought I’d be able to do this.”
“How does it feel?”
“Incredible.” He leaned back and her arms loosened, her head lifting so she could meet his gaze. There was a storm there, a fire, and it set her heart racing even faster. “Thank you.”
“No,” she said softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek with her bare hand. “Thank you.”
