Across Eternity (18 page)

"Excuse
me,
can we have your
attention?"

Amber looked past the people as one of the band members spoke.

When the patrons directed their attention to the man speaking he continued.
"It seems this here lad has something he’d like to say."

Logan stepped up on the platform that was barely six inches higher than the
floor and glanced into the crowd. "I’m Logan Richards
and…well I’m from the US and I just arrived…"

"Spit it out boy," someone shouted. "Me beer is going
stale."

Logan smiled at the comment. "I’d like to introduce a very
special woman." He pointed to the small table where Amber sat. "Her
name is Amber and I’m head over heels in love with her."

Amber’s face flushed as every head craned around to see her. She
wanted to crawl under the table. Instead of ducking away like a coward, she
looked at everyone with a nervous smile. Not knowing what else to do, she
raised her hand slightly and gave a small wave. Her eyes then darted to Logan
and she mouthed. "What are you doing?" Her stomach flopped when his
reply was a wicked smile that said you’ll find out soon enough.

"What makes her so special?" Another person shouted.

"First of all look at her…isn’t she breathtaking."

Logan’s comment caused all eyes to shift on Amber again. Amber held
her breath as the uncomfortable inspection took place. Suddenly an arm gripping
a large mug shot up. "I’ll drink to that," she heard the man
say. Then most of the men raised their beers in agreement and then took a
drink.

Amber shook her head and mouthed please stop when heads turned back to
Logan. "Not on your life," Logan mouthed back to her.

Could someone die of embarrassment, she thought as she shifted uncomfortably
in her chair.

"She’s an amazing kisser…"

Yes, someone could die of embarrassment she realized in mortification. She
couldn’t meet the eyes that shifted to her so she buried her face into
her beer and drank until there was nothing left. She cringed when she set the
beer down and Logan was still going on about her. This is how it would end for
her, dying of embarrassment, in a small pub, in Ireland. It wasn’t a bad
way to go she realized. As she slid down in her chair something washed over
her. He’d done this to her before. He had stood in that very spot
hundreds of years ago and…she covered her mouth with her hand and began
to cry.

"You’d think a woman this beautiful must have flaws. Not my
Amber."

A man raised her beer and shouted, "She’s a beautiful
lass
."

Logan raised his beer too and shifted his attention to the man who was very
drunk. "Yes, she is. And thanks for noticing."

The crowd laughed.

"I’ve brought this beautiful lass over 5 thousand miles to this
very spot to ask her a very important question." He stepped off the old
wooden platform and walked across the room to her.

Scooting out his chair and setting it aside, he moved to the side of the
table where Amber was sitting and bent on one knee. Looking up at her with a
warm smile he whispered, "You know what I’m going to ask
you."

She nodded as she wiped at her tears. "You’ve asked me here
before."

His smile grew with pleasure. "I have. And I shall ask you again.
Amber, our love is endless. It’s eternal and can never be broken." From
his pocket he pulled out a ring and presented it to her. "Will you do me
the honor of becoming my wife again?"

"Yes," She threw her arms around him and whispered for his ears
only. "You promise to bring me back here again in another life and ask me
to marry you right here, just like this.
Because I
can’t think of anywhere more perfect than here."

"I promise."

She pulled away and smiled with sheer joy. "I would love to become
your wife."

The pub roared with cheers.
A round of beers were
ordered and dancing soon followed.

Logan and Amber were sitting quietly, holding hands across the table when
someone approached them.

"Marry the lass now," the man said in a deep voice as he stood
at their table.

Amber and Logan stared at the man curiously. "I beg your pardon,"
Logan said.

"I can marry you," he repeated.
"The
names O’Sullivan.
Aaron O’Sullivan. I’m the local
judge."

Logan shook the man’s hand. "It’s very nice to meet you
Judge O’Sullivan. Thank you for the offer but I thought there were strict
rules and paper work—"

The judge waved his hand dismissively. "The Irish government only
requires four walls, two witnesses, and one judge to perform a civil
ceremony." He clasped his hands over his large belly. "It appears
you meet all the requirements. The paperwork can be taken care of in the
morning."

Logan glanced to Amber out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you kidding me," she said nodded eagerly. "I would
love it."

"A pub?
Are you sure?"

"Positive." She kissed him soundly on the lips.

The women quickly gathered flowers, from the bush out front, and the men
rearranged the tables and chairs. The band played an old wedding march as Amber
made her way down the short isle.

Exactly twenty minutes after their engagement, Logan and Amber were
pronounced husband and wife by the powers vested in Judge O’Sullivan.

"Where are ye and the lass staying?" the judge asked Logan when
everyone had returned to their tables.

"A cottage on the far end of town."
Logan felt his pockets of the paper that had the direction and the address before
he realized he left it in the car.

"Old Ramsey’s cottage."
The man
shook his head. "It’s not fit to be stayed it. Besides, it’s
in the middle of nowhere. You get yourself a room at Oliver’s Bridge Inn.
Now they have some fine rooms fit for newlyweds."

Logan took a big gulp of beer. He smiled when he glanced past the judge and
saw several women around Amber, each trying to get a look at her ring. "I
appreciate your concern, but my wife specifically asked for a cottage in the
middle of nowhere. So that’s what she’ll get."

"You best be on your way. Once you see it you might be coming
back." The judge laughed as he walked away.

****

Logan had been a man of his word. The traditional style cottage with a slate
roof, whitewashed walls, and a quaint front porch, was small, in the middle of
nowhere, and riddled with charm. Amber had fallen in love with it the moment
she saw it.

"It’s beautiful," she said pressing her hand to her mouth
in delight.

"Is it lost enough for you?" he asked with an easy smile as he
thought about the miserable, single lane bumpy road he had just driven, which
had at least a thousand potholes and almost as many sheep in it.

She nodded, tears in her eyes.

"I was told it has been vacant for quite some time so I make no
guarantees. And judging by what the locals say—"

"It’s perfect."

"Let’s see what we’ve gotten ourselves into, shall
we."

She nodded again.

"Do you have the key?" When she handed it to him, he said,
"Come here, Mrs. Richards," When she moved to him, Logan scooped her
in his arms and held her that way as he worked the key into the old weathered
door before he carried her over the threshold. Her tears turned into giggles of
happiness as he did.

A musty scent greeted them as Logan swung open the door. Setting Amber down,
they looked at the main living space. The stone flooring was rugged and showed
signs of wear. The furniture was sparse and primitive. A pine table with four
chairs was pushed tightly into one corner and a modest queen sized bed in the
other. A large fireplace, filled with pieces of charred wood and ash took up
most of the far wall. A well used cast-iron pot hung from one of the pothooks
running across the hearth. There was a small door, directly across from them,
which led to an equally primitive bathroom. It was like they had stepped back
in time a hundred years.

"I hope this is the type of solitude you were looking for,"
Logan said after giving the room a once over.

"Yes, it is." She turned to him and jumped back into his arms.
Kissing him all over the face she said, "Thank you. I don’t know
how you found this place, but I’m so pleased you did."

"I’m glad you like it."

"I feel like this is a dream. Am I really your wife?"

"You’ve always been my wife," he whispered as he kissed
her.

"I have, haven’t I?"

He nodded. "I’m not sure if what took place at the pub is even
legal, but we don’t need a piece of paper. We never have."

Over the next five days they did mundane things like chop firewood and go
for long walks, viewing nature up close and personal. They even tried their
hand at stream fishing, which had been more comical than successful.
Fortunately, they didn’t have to rely on their catch for a meal so they
didn’t go hungry. They picked wildflowers and went bird watching in the
large meadow behind the house.

To their delight, they had stumbled onto a secondhand bookstore in the
village near the market they frequented. Logan bought several books on the
local history, art, and one on stream fishing. He’d read them within
hours excitedly relaying the new discoveries to Amber.

Amber had discovered an old rickety chair, which she had found in an
abandoned shed outback. She moved the chair, or death trap, as Logan called it,
out front where she’d sit for long periods, reading books on Celtic
folklore and watching the huge thunderclouds roll by.

On their third day, they went back to
their pub.

"Well, look who’s here. We weren’t sure how long that
honeymoon was going to last," Judge O’Sullivan said as he shook
Logan’s hand and wrapped Amber into a tight embrace.

After saying a few more hellos they took a seat at
their table
. They
had been fortunate enough to dine on a night when the house band was in. Both
Amber and Logan fell in love with the music. They danced, drank, ate and
visited late into the night.

Now, it was early dawn, and outside the wind grew, finding its way into the
cracks of the tiny cottage. Amber heard the creaking of the wood and the
rustling of the trees outside and she couldn’t think of better sounds to
wake up to. She lay there listening to the wind for the longest time. It
wasn’t until the old tree, next to the cottage, groaned loudly as the
burdensome wind pushed through its branches that she forced her eyes open.

"It’s not going to fall on us," Logan assured her softly.

In the dim light she found Logan laying on his side, his hand propped under
his head watching her with a content look on his face. "Are you sure? It
sounds like it might," she said in a warm, sleepily voice.

"I think we’re safe. That tree is probably several hundred years
old. It’s been through many storms."

"I hope you’re right because it sounds like this might be its
last."

"Don’t worry."

"What are you looking at?" she asked after a moment.

"You.
I watch you every morning."

"You do?"

He nodded and smiled gently as he ran the backs of his fingers down her
cheek and around her chin. "I find it a wonderful way to start my
day," he said with a lazy smile before he dropped his head and kissed
her. "Are you warm enough? I could put more wood on the fire." In their
enthusiasm, they had chopped enough to last an entire winter.

"I’m fine." Her eyes drifted to the only window in the
cottage, which was still dark. "It’s picking up out there."

His eyes followed hers. "It blew in last night but didn’t really
amount to anything until about three this morning."

"What time is it now?"

"Almost five."

"Have you slept?"

"A little."
He continued to trace the
curves of her face, moving down the length of her neck and across her
collarbone.
"On and off here and there."

"Have you ever considered sleeping pills?"

"I’m fine." His hand found its way down her bare thigh
where his fingers brushed over the skin slightly. Amber turned into him causing
his hand to slip over to the soft
vee
between her
legs. Her eyes drifted closed as a moan deep in her throat, told him how much
she liked what he was doing.

They made love as the first rumbles of thunder moved overhead.

In the aftermath, as she lay against him, she realized just how much she was
going to miss this closeness they shared. It filled her heart, her spirit, and
occupied her thoughts. She felt whole with him and the feeling was such a
contrast from her life just months ago.

He had given her everything she ever wanted in such a short time, yet she
felt like they had been together forever. Her old life, as she liked to think
of it, was nothing more than a distant memory. As a result of all he had given
her and of all that they had shared, she knew for certain she would never live
life the same.

He had changed her and no matter what happened she would continue on this
path of growth. It was a promise she made to herself. She had no desire to live
any other way. "There’ll never be anyone else." The words
spilled from her mouth in an earnest confession.

He was quiet, absorbing her words. "Don’t say that."

"Why?"

"Because it’s not true."
His body
immediately tensed and his statement was just as serious as hers.

"But it is true," she whispered. "I’ll never want
anyone else."

He rose up to an almost sitting position. His expression was apprehensive as
he looked at her. It took a moment for him to find his voice. "I
don’t want you to be alone."

"I won’t. I’ll have these memories."

"Memories won’t be enough," he said over a loud gust of
wind that sent droplets of rain colliding against the windowpane.