Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-four
Michael
With Scottie’s head against his chest, his heart beating in time with hers, Michael Cross felt whole. He could stay here forever with the winds and song of the sea.
With Lady Royal, time stood still. Until crackling, rude voices shouted through his earpiece. “Eyes on LR?”
“Anyone have eyes on LR? HM making announcement.”
Michael moaned as the real world broke the magic of the moment. “On the old portico. I’ve got eyes on her.”
He looked down at her with a wink, to which she made a funny face. He roped his arm about her again and kissed her. What was it Kevin Costner said in the American film Open Range? “I’m going to need a thousand of these.”
“We need to go in,” he said. “Her Majesty is about to make the announcement.”
“It’s midnight, then.” Scottie brushed her fingers over his medals. “I don’t want to go in, because then tomorrow will become today and the spell of the ball will be broken and I go back to Scottie O’Shay, menswear designer.”
“You can stay, Scottie.”
“If this were a fairy tale, yes. But this is real life, Michael.” As she turned for the edge of the portico, stooping to pick up her shoes, she tripped, and arms flailing, tumbled forward.
“Scottie—” Michael bounded off the concrete and scooped her into his arms. “You’re dead set on giving me a heart attack, lass, aren’t you?”
“My foot caught.” She stretched to get down, but he held onto her. “You can put me down, Mick.”
“Not a chance.” He cradled her close and started for the lights of the ballroom. “I can’t have you or your pretty dress mussed, not while you’re in my charge.”
She seemed to weigh nothing in his arms. A sweet burden he’d gladly carry to the end of his days. But just before the ballroom doors, he set her down. Did he offer again to go with her to Tennessee?
“How do I look?” she said, lifting her face to his.
“Like a woman kissed.” He tried to tuck a lock of hair freed from her hairdo into place, but it swung loose around her neck.
She was so pretty with her disheveled updo, her lipstick faded, her shoes dangling from her fingers.
“I’ll be watching the announcement from the corner of the mezzanine.
Lennox will be on your three o’clock. Schueler on your six. ”
“Whatever you say, Officer Cross.” She clung to his arm as she put on her shoes, then worked her way to the ballroom’s side stairs up to the balcony.
Michael cut through the crowded floor for another set of stairs, scanning the guests, the edges of the room, and the hidden corners.
Gunner communicated in his ear that every corner of the ballroom was secure.
He was about to jog up to the balcony when Mum appeared. “I’ve been looking for you all night.” She kissed his cheek. “You look splendid in a tux with your chest medals.”
“Good to see you, Mum, but I must dash. I’m due at my post.”
“I only wanted to say hello.” She pointed across the floor. “Your father sends his love as well.” Dad gave a curt chin bob.
“What? Are you here with Dad?”
“He’s my plus one now and then as I am his. It’s easier than dredging up a proper date.” She brushed something from his shoulder. Probably the scent of Scottie, which, if it was all right with Mum, he’d like it to remain. “Can we have lunch again soon? I really—”
“Yes, but I must be off.” From the corner of his eye, he saw the queen moving into position at the mezzanine balcony.
“Esteemed and most welcome guests.” Queen Catherine’s refined House of Blue cadence carried gracefully across the room.
“Once again you grace us with your presence, and Lauchtenland is the grander for it.
You are our friends and allies, our neighbors and kin.
The North Sea may churn with its famous storms, yet we remain bound by centuries of commerce, devotion, and goodwill.
“We have fought wars with one another—and against—yet through the long decades and the longer centuries, we have remained friends, and indeed, family.” She let her gaze sweep the ballroom, pausing to acknowledge several guests by name with a nod of genuine regard.
“Tonight, I wish to right a wrong of the House of Blue.
More than two hundred years ago, our family—supported by both court and government—conspired to deprive a nobleman of his title, his lands, and his fortune for political gain.
After careful research and counsel—due in great part to the efforts of my daughter, Lady Royal, and members of the Cross family, most especially Officer Michael Cross—I have issued a Letters Patent to restore the Duchy of the Midlands to the Fickle family, together with all rights and privileges pertaining thereto.
“MP Hamish Fickle will henceforth be styled Lord Midlands, Duke of the Midlands. I thought no finer time than the Rose Ball to make this announcement.”
The response was a deafening silence, then rapid and quick spurts of shouts.
“You must be joking.”
“He’s brainwashed Her Majesty and the Crown.”
“Long live Queen Catherine and Lord Midlands. Hip, hip hurray!”
The ballroom exploded with conversation embroiled in laughter, chatter, and some anger. Michael leaned over the railing, eyes sharp, then toward Lady Royal, who stood smiling beside her brothers.
Queen Catherine settled the room and continued her elegant speech, describing in detail the Blues’ crime and then apologized—again—to the Fickle family.
“I ask your forgiveness on behalf of my ancestors. May you and your family be blessed, Lord Midlands, and restored to the good fortune once given you by my great ancestor, King Magnus the Third.”
Hamish stepped forward, bowed to the queen, shook her hand, and uttered three very loud words. “All is forgiven.”
No sooner had the words left his lips than a blinding kaleidoscope of light filled the ballroom through every window, every open door, and if possible, the stone walls.
The guests stirred with awe and wonder and exited en masse through the doors onto the castle grounds, hands shielding their eyes, phones raised as if man’s invention could capture God’s eye.
Michael thundered down the stairs with eyes anxious for Lady Royal. Gunner and the team were frenetic over the coms, calling for locations on Her Majesty and the king consort, the princes and their wives, and the royal guests… Who had eyes on their royal guests?
Yet out on the lawn, the air was calm and the waters below at rest. Michael came to a halt, along with everyone else, and gazed toward the Highcrest Mountains as a river of light streamed down through the summer trees, down the mountain pathways, into the Dalholm streets, spilling onto the woods and gardens of Hadsby Castle.
His coms went silent as shouts rose from the Old Hamlet along with a cacophony of car horns. The Eye of God bloomed wider and brighter, holding a glowing pulse, and then even the street noise fell silent, and a hush seemed to blanket the whole world.
All is calm. All is bright.
Michael barely felt the pressure of a hand on his shoulder but turned at the first hint of Scottie’s perfume.
“The Eye of God,” she whispered, resting her chin on him. “Why now?”
“Forgiveness. It inspires miracles.” Michael brought her round to settle her back against his chest, wrapping his arm about her. Someone, somewhere, began a song. Then another. The Eye continued to flicker and glow, changing colors, eliciting awes of wonder.
Time became endless. For all Michael knew, days had passed while he stood there holding Scottie.
Then, as soon as it came, the Eye left, drawing up from the hamlet, through the forest trees, subtly fading until all that remained was a waving peace and the magic of wonder.
No one moved. To where would they all go? They’d just caught a glimpse of true Royal Majesty.
Michael suddenly realized everyone could see Lady Royal’s equerry caressing her in a romantic hold, but he didn’t care.
He loved her. She was his. They’d witnessed the Eye of God together.
She glanced up at him but remained against his chest, speaking with others as they began to stir, talking in low whispers, each one, down to a man, stammering to put words to what they’d seen.
“Beauty.”
“Incredible.”
“Eye.”
“God. Undone.”
Ah, perhaps the Eye of God was the origination of Dalholm’s shorthand speech. Not the harsh winter cold.
Everywhere Michael’s gaze landed, he felt a warm affection.
He didn’t know two-thirds of these lads and lasses, but he loved every one of them.
He caught sight of Mum and Dad and swelled with pride and good feelings.
When Hamish Fickle came into view, he had a strange urge to offer him a hug.
To what kingdom had they been transported?
He released Scottie when Her Majesty appeared in front of them. He offered his queen a curt bow.
“Michael Cross,” she said. “We’ve seen the Eye of God. Whatever do we do now? Your father said you’d know.”
“Ma’am, I have no idea.” Then he remembered the day at the chapel with Scottie. “Wait, perhaps we should be grateful. The day Lady Royal and I trekked to the chapel and Emmanuel happened by to speak with us, He noted our mission was good. Perhaps restoration was on His mind.”
“I believe you’re right.” The queen glanced at Scottie, then squeezed Michael’s hand. “Now we’ve seen heaven breaking into earth. We shall never be the same.”
“Kate?” Scottie reached for her mum as she turned for the ballroom, her security detail and the king consort waiting. “Thank you for everything. I love you.”
“My darling daughter, I have always loved you.” Kate embraced her and kissed her cheek. “Now, let’s dance the night away.”
“Mum, please, don’t wear yourself out.”
“Scottie love,” she said, a hitch in her voice, “I’ve never felt more alive.”
“We thought the legend of flora and fauna was about romantic love,” Michael said, more to himself than Scottie. “But the legend is about Emmanuel’s love for us and our love for Him.”
“After tonight,” Scottie said, “I don’t think anyone will ever call Him a legend.”