“Lead the way.” Loki tipped his head in the direction of the kirk, wondering when he’d turned into such a soft-hearted fool.
Once they reached the kirk, Kenzie jumped down and ran over to Loki’s horse, tugging on his hand. “Come along, I promise you’ll love Father Prestwick.”
“Bella and I will wait outside. You run in and give Father a hug.”
“Nay—” Kenzie’s face fell, “—I want you to meet him. ‘Twill only take a moment. Please?”
Loki sighed and slid off his horse, then wrapped his hands around his wife’s waist and helped her dismount. “Bella, let’s go inside and warm up for a bit.” He turned to the guards, “We’ll return shortly.”
Kenzie pushed the door open and ran down the aisle, calling for the priest all the while. Loki and Bella followed him inside. The kirk was remarkable, and the tapestries and woodworking were some of the most beautiful Loki had ever seen. The altar had red cloths trimmed in gold threads, covered kneelers, and thick pillows with carefully tended needlework on each one. Thelad disappeared through a door to fetch the priest, presumably in the Blackfriar living quarters behind the altar.
A few moments later, Kenzie came through the door tugging on the hand of the priest, a tall man with brown hair peppered with streaks of silver. He had a kind smile, and when he finally managed to pull away from the wee lad, he bowed to them, his hands clasped together at his waist. He stood in front of the altar, a distance away from them yet.
“Greetings and welcome to the House of Our Lord. I am Father Francis Prestwick, and I’m pleased to hear you will be taking Kenzie to your home. He is a good, hard-working soul, whom I will miss dearly. He reminds me of my own son.”
Loki and Bella stayed at the back of the building, Bella seated and Loki standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder. “We promise to take good care of him, Father.”
“The lad tells me you are Loki Grant of the legend of the Norse battle?”
“Legend? I’m not sure about that, Father, but aye, I am Loki Grant and this is my wife Bella.” Loki took a few steps in the direction of the friar.
Kenzie bolted down the aisle and yanked on Loki’s hand. “Come closer, you must see Father Prestwick closer.”
His mischievous grin made Loki pause—the lad was clearly up to something—but he decided to venture closer to the priest anyway. Loki had to admit the man had a certain pull to him. He moved down the center of the aisle, Bella following directly behind him.
As he approached the priest, Loki dipped his head, then lifted his eyes to meet the other man’s gaze. Bella gasped behind him and wee Kenzie was practically dancing on his feet behind the priest, a wide grin on his face. “Do you see what I see, Loki?”
Aye, he did. The priest’s eyes widened as he stared at Loki. “Are you the son of Ciara Blackett?” he choked out.
Loki nodded, unable to speak for a moment. The priest had one blue eye and one green eye, just as he did. Loki glanced at Kenzie and whispered, “You knew.”
Kenzie nodded, a grin still on his face. “You are the only two I ever met with eyes of different colors, and yet they are exactly the same. Do you no’ think ‘tis odd? You would no’ have believed me if I told you. You had to see for yourself.”
A fine tremor shook the priest’s hands as he whispered, “Excuse me, I think I need to sit down for a moment.”
Loki helped him to a nearby bench, then sat down beside him. “Are you all right, Father?”
“Aye. If you’ll give me a moment to collect myself, I’d be happy to explain.” He reached inside his robe and pulled out a linen square, wiping his forehead and his cheeks before he set it back inside his robe. “Kenzie, would you do me the favor of taking Bella into my chambers? You can find a piece of fruit for each of you.”
“Aye, Father.” Kenzie held his hand out to Bella, who leaned down to kiss Loki’s cheek before she left.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Loki is finally able to say the words in his heart to his parents.
Brodie made his way over to Bella, and Loki could see his mother’s gaze on him, her happiness and unconditional love washing over him like the softest of furs. He stood by the door like a statue.
He didn’t know how. Hellfire, he had been so certain he would finally be able to tell her how he felt. He’d rehearsed it over and over in his mind on their trek.
Bella, Celestina, and Brodie chatted as he leaned against the door, attempting to organize his thoughts, failing miserably as comment after comment brewed in his mind only to be tossed aside as insufficient.
How did one do it?
How did one person thank another for taking him from squalor? For renewing his hope and faith? At the age of seven or eight summers, he had feared he would be forever cold, forever hungry, forever lonely…nay…forever alone. Instead, Brodie and Celestina Grant had made him forever loved, forever grateful, and forever happy and full of life.
“Loki?” It was his mother’s voice, the sweet cadence that was a comfort to his soul. “Are you all right?”
“Mama, I just wanted…I would like…” The words just wouldn’t come.
