“What are you doing?” I pushed the old woman’s hands away from me.
“What does it look like I’m doing, lass? We doona have much time. Ye are to be at yer wedding promptly! Get yerself in that tub, dearie.” Mary’s voice was shrill and demanding as she placed her hands on her hips and glared straight at me.
“Ok. Alright.” I held up a hand to Mary and self-consciously stripped down, hopping in the water as fast as I could. The heat of the water certainly felt real and it briefly crossed my mind that I couldn’t remember ever having such a sense-filled dream before.
Mary’s face seemed to soften as she watched me hiss at the touch of the steaming water. “Lass, I’m sorry everything is happening so fast for ye. I was hoping I would have time to explain, but I’m afraid that will have to wait.”
I wondered what there was to explain in a dream. Dreams often made no sense. But as was becoming habit, I had no time to respond before Mary continued talking.
“Here’s what ye will be needing to know today.” Mary sank down onto the edge of the bed and crossed her arms with a look of exasperation. “Yer name is Blaire MacChristy. Yer father’s name is Donal, and it is yer duty to marry the laird, Eoin Conall, to help provide protection for yer father’s territory.”
I splashed water on my face, scrubbing my body with my hands as I listened to Mary’s instructions. Yes, the water was definitely hot. My skin turned pink as I lifted my arm out of it to scrub myself clean.
“Ye look just like Blaire, so once we get ye in yer dress and pull yer hair up, there’s not a soul in all of Scotland who would be able to say otherwise. That is, until ye speak, dearie. I’ve never heard anyone talk so plain. Old Mary’s not so sure what to do about that.”
Mary stood and paced back and forth around the room. The water seemed to help my aching head, and as I reached over the edge of the tub to grab a cloth and dry myself, I noticed my head didn’t spin with the effort.
“Perhaps, I can try to mimic your accent.” I began to dry myself, feeling refreshed and much more like myself.
“Accent? What do ye mean, lass?” Mary stopped pacing and pivoted to face me.
“I mean, that ye doona have to worry so much. I can try to mimic the way ye speak.” I smiled as I tried to tilt my words into the best Scottish accent I could muster. Thank goodness for all the books I’d read aloud to my kindergarteners. They always loved it when I used voices, so over the years I’d developed quite the repertoire of accents.
“Ah! That’s not bad, lass! Perhaps, ye can do it after all. That’s always what the late Laird Alasdair said: that ye’d be a blessing to us all. But I never believed his stories until this day.”
“What stories?” With my head no longer hurting, I found myself quite interested in what Mary was saying.
“Oh, I doona have time to talk to ye about that today, dear. Excuse me. I should have said, I doona have time to talk to ye about that today, miss. Old Mary has to start calling ye miss, if yer going to be lady of the castle.” Mary paused and chuckled. “I never woulda believed that today would turn out as it has, lass. Oh my, it’s been one turnip of a day for Mary. Not to mention yerself, dear. Ugh. I mean, miss. It’s been a trying day for ye as well.”
I laughed and listened to Mary ramble as I shrugged into the pale blue gown that she was holding up in my direction.
“Oh, Mary, it’s stunning!” I looked down at the bodice, quite taken with the image below me. It was the most elegant piece of clothing I had ever worn, and I wondered why women didn’t wear dresses more often. I couldn’t even see myself yet, with the way Mary had me turned away from the mirror, but I felt beautiful inside the flowing fabric.
“Yes it is, lass. But ye canna look yet. Ye may only look when I’ve finished yer hair, and ye are all ready for yer wedding.”
I smiled, deciding to enjoy my coma. “What does the laird look like, Mary?”
Mary chuckled, “Well, that’s a fine question, miss. Look, I said it! I called ye ‘miss,’ miss!” She paused to laugh. “I doona believe ye could be more fortunate in a husband, miss. I love those two boys as if they are my own bairns, ornery as they are.”
“Two?” I interrupted on reflex, and glanced backward at Mary, who was pinning pieces of my hair into place.
“Oh, yes. There are two Conall brothers. But ye are marrying the elder brother, Eoin. The younger brother is Arran. Most lasses would agree that there aren’t two more handsome lads anywhere in Scotland. Even I would have to agree, and I’m far too old to unlace my corset over such things.”
I let out a small yelp as Mary tugged especially hard on a tendril of my hair.