Jack comes to the finale in his pursuit of Wendy – –

Wendy arrived in Scotland on Friday, and we didn’t stop on the way home from the airport to get a kitten. We went to the shelter on Saturday, after she’d slept for 11 hours. Valkittie was four weeks old, tiny, jet black, and full of herself.  She traveled with us on our journeys and lived to the ripe old age of nineteen. She even signed the witness document with her pawprint a decade later, when we hosted a wedding in our bookstore!

But we were talking about our wedding: time to make some arrangements. Since most of our friends were either folkies or storytellers, we decided to marry on the Friday before the annual Auchtermuchty Folk Festival. August 14^th to be precise (making this Monday past our 25^th anniversary).

We approached the minister of the local ‘Muchty Presbyterian Church, and she was all for it; however, the governing kirk session said no because we didn’t live in the parish and weren’t members of the congregation. So our good friend Aileen Carr, who lived across the street from the church in a lovely old stone house, said “Have it here!”

Invitations went out, and Wendy’s parents arrived with brand new passports. We took them for a tour of the highlands, and we stayed overnight at the B&B of another friend, Doli McLennan, where she made sure we had adjoining rooms, much to Wendy’s mother’s chagrin.

Wendy would be staying with another friend just up the street from the wedding venue for the next few nights, but she had developed a dreadful cold. She went to the local pharmacy, and the guy on duty reached behind him and produced a brown bottle. “Take this before you go to bed tonight, lassie, and don’t drive in the morning,” he said – it was Codeine – – –

The day arrived and it was raining, but by the scheduled time the sun came out. Aileen’s house  looked lovely, not least because Wendy’s friend Mike had arrived at the last minute and ironed all the tablecloths.

How to explain Mike? When we got back from the Highlands, a message on our answering machine from Mike said, “Hey, I’m in the airport in Edinburgh. Where am I supposed to go?”

I expressed concern at one of her hapless American friends running around alone and unprotected, but Wendy smiled and waved a dismissive hand.

“Mike will show up the morning of the wedding, riding an elephant, fronting a brass band. He’s that guy.”

Actually, he showed up with the cocktail waitress from the bar he had closed the night before down in Dunfermline. He’d remembered that I lived there, but found a pub instead of my house, and a willing guide to get him to ‘Muchty…. who I’m sure was a nice lassie. She dropped him off and went back to her bartending duties—after making sure he had her phone number for after the nuptials.

Wendy’s bridesmaid, Donna-Marie, arrived from Virginia and also had adventures in the pubs of Dunfermline, as well as scaring a taxi driver who couldn’t find ‘Muchty.

Next week – the big day arrives – –