Elsie smiles. “That settles it, then.” She moves toward the door, leading Iain by the arm. “We need to set some things up, but we’ll see you both at the kirk in an hour.”
Jacob assures her that we’ll be there on time, and then he and I are alone.
14
“You don’t have to come to the funeral,” Jacob says. “It’s—I’d be fine going by myself.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and no matter how calm his voice sounds, I can tell he’s uneasy.
I haven’t been to a funeral in years. Not since my grandfather died. I was nineteen and had only met the man twice. My mother’s side of the family kept their distance after her divorce, so I never spent much time with them. We flew to India for the service, only stayed for two days, then went home.
My mother never asked me to go with her. I’d been in college at the time and had classes, but even though she’d said she’d be okay going alone, I’d known she needed someone with her.
Just like I know Jacob needs someone with him now.
“I want to go,” I say. “After all, Elsie invited me. It’d be rude of me not to show.”
His shoulders relax a fraction at that.
“Only…what’s a purvey?” I ask.
“The reception. After the funeral,” he says. “Usually hosted by the family, with some food and drink.”
“Oh,” I say. “Okay. I’ll be there for that too.” I look down at my clothes, then back up. “I’ll just run upstairs and change. I’ll be back in five.”
I rush up to my room and put on the navy-blue dress I wore to the wedding. I take my hair out of its bun, finger-brushing the waves as best I can, and meet Jacob in the lobby.
He’s carrying his bagpipe case in one hand and typing something on his phone with the other. When my shoes clack on the hardwood, he turns to look at me. His eyes drop to my feet, then trail up my body, then slide down again.
I run my palms down the sides of my dress. “I don’t have a ton of options,” I say. “But I think this should be fine?”
It’s not black, but I think it’s dark and somber enough for a funeral. And it’s a pretty conservative cut. Square neckline, and a hem that stops at my knee.
But Jacob’s still staring at me.
I frown. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.” He blinks. “Yes, sorry. You look…It’s fine.” He shakes his head slightly. “Are you okay walking in those? We have to walk the whole length of the street.”
“Yeah.” I look down at my shoes. “They’re flats.” The same shoes I wore to the wedding.
“Oh,” he says. “Okay, then.”
He hikes the bagpipe case higher on his arm and heads out of the inn. I follow him, surprised to find that the weather is pleasant. Sunlight’s peeking through the clouds. It’s overcast, but brighter than usual, and there isn’t a trace of water in the air, the ever-present mist lifted for a moment.
We don’t say much to each other as we walk to the garage, and I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something feels off.
Was he just being polite before? Or are funerals in Scotland different? Is what I’m wearing totally out of the norm?
“Are you sure what I’m wearing is okay?” I ask. “If you think this is inappropriate or—”
“No,” he says. “You just—it took me by surprise, that’s all.”
My forehead wrinkles. “Why?”
“Because I—” His mouth closes, then opens again. “It’s nothing. Sorry.” He looks over at me, his expression tentative. “I’m just feeling a little nervous right now. I didn’t think it all through when I was talking to Iain and Elsie. I just kind of reacted to what they were saying, but now I’m realizing that the last time I played a funeral, well, it was for James.”
A string wraps tight around my heart.
“You don’t have to do this, you know. It was nice of you to offer, but if you need to back out, you can.”
