Chapter 4

The hike was strenuous; both were breathing hard when they reached the ledge of the volcano. Esme looked at the smiling man dressed in long black robe and the two smiling women that flanked him. The two women were nude except for flowers woven through their long blonde hair.

“This is our wedding,” Kaja excitedly told Esme. “Ronald is from a long line of Nordic priests and is ordained to perform the wedding ritual.”

One of the women indicated that the setting was ready. Esme looked on as Kaja stripped out of her clothes and stood, waiting. With a shrug, Esme stripped as well, then took her place next to Kaja. Ronald smiled and began speaking in a language neither Esme nor Kaja could understand. When the ceremony required that Kaja or Esme do something, one or the other woman would translate for them.

“Then with a kiss, Esme and Kaja pledged their eternal fidelity to one another. Ronald smiled a satisfied smile and wished the two spouses well. One woman handed Kaja the scroll that their Tutite marriage license had been scrawled upon. The other woman handed Esme the dvd recording of their wedding ceremony.

Dressing, Esme and Kaja looked into the mouth of the volcano itself, but really saw only a gaping maw. Hand in hand, they kissed, then returned to the base of the volcano.

“So, we, we’re really, we are really married?” Esme verified once more, reading the odd scribbles and scrawls on the sacred scroll.

“Yes,” Kaja laughed happily.

Joining Esme on the plush couch, Kaja squeezed Esme in an embrace. The two women kissed softly.

“And, listen, when we get back; shit! We need to pack. But when we get back, don’t worry. I will sign a post-nup agreement,” Kaja said.

“You most certainly will not!” Esme stated firmly. “Kaja, why? Why would you even bring that up?”

“I don’t want your dad to think…” Kaja said.

“Kaja, my father? My father doesn’t have any say so,” Esme tittered. “My mom. My mom’s the Fletcher in the family; my father just married into the position with the corporation.”

“Huh? Oh, oh well, then, I don’t want your mom worrying I’m just after your money,” Kaja said. “Come on. Come pick out what you’re going to wear on the flight home.”

“Kaja, my mom knows you’re not after the money,” Esme said. “You know, they make medication for that OCD stuff of yours. We can pack in the morning, Kaya. The plane doesn’t leave until…”

“We need to be dressed, ready, and standing on the dock at six. Not six oh one, or six oh two,” Kaja insisted.

After the cook left, his gratuity in his pocket, Esme and Kaya retired to the bedroom. Softly, with no urgency in mind, the two newlyweds made love. As each was striving to pleasure the other, their enjoyment was sublime.

“I love our rings,” Esme said softly as they lay, entwined in post-coital bliss. “But why pearls?”

“Birthstone of June,” Kaja whispered.

At five fifty three the following morning, both Kaja and Esme stood on the dock, shivering in the harsh North Sea wind. Esme shouted over the wind that she would be frozen to death before their boat got there. Kaja smirked in triumph as she pointed to the lights that were fast approaching their dock.

The airport was heated to the point of stuffiness; Esme whispered the airport should be clothing-optional. Kaja shook her head as she guided them to the small coffee shop.

“Ah! Cake!” Esme declared as she bit into the honey bun. “Kaja, we didn’t have a wedding cake!”

“Ess, that is one of the best ideas you’ve ever had,” Kaja enthused, pulling her cell phone out of her parka’s pocket.

The flight attendant served Kaja and Esme champagne when Esme told her they were newlyweds. Two other couples also declared themselves to be newlyweds and were served champagne. Lyndon Boucher, one of the newlyweds approached Kaja AND Esme, standing far too close to Kaja as she sat in the aisle seat. With his crotch at eye level, thrust forward, Lyndon asked if they’d ever considered maybe trying out all other options before marrying each other. Just past his very obtrusive crotch, Kaja could see Lyndon’s bride was glaring daggers at her husband’s back. She gave the young red head an apologetic shrug.

“You know, that really is none of your business,” Kaja said bluntly.

“Know, I uh, maybe I’d met you first?” Lyndon suggested, again thrusting his crotch forward.

“We’d still wound up together,” Kaja snapped. “Sir? We’ve been very polite so far, but my patience is wearing thin.”

“And, maybe you might want to return to your seat; your wife doesn’t look too happy,” Esme suggested, even pointing toward the fuming red head.

“Abbie? Naw, she’s fine,” Lyndon smirked, again making sure his crotch was thrust forward.

“Abigail,” Abigail Boucher nee Sullivan snapped, grabbing her husband’s arm in a fierce grip. “Lynn, leave these two women alone.”

“Bitch, go back to your…” Lyndon ordered, shoving Abigail away.

“Sir, come with me,” the copilot ordered, pinning Lyndon’s arm behind him as he marched him toward the rear of the small craft.

“I, I hate when he drinks,” Abigail sobbed as Esme took Lyndon’s abandoned seat.

“Where do you live?” Esme softly asked, embracing the sobbing woman.

“Fairglade. It’s this little town in Maine,” Abigail said.

“We live in Fletcher,” Esme said. “Here. Let me give you our phone numbers.”

“Do not give them to your husband,” Kaja implored.

“Ex. Ex-husband,” Abigail sniffled.

“I, if you need an attorney,” Esme suggested.

A few hours later, a more sober and contrite Lyndon attempted to apologize for his earlier behavior. The apology was not very sincere; it was apparent he either did not understand or grasp how rude his behavior truly was. And, compounding his troubles, he made his apologies to Kaja and Esme, but did not apologize to his wife. Lyndon was baffled when his wife loudly ordered him to get away from her.

Landing at the small airfield, Kaja again took charge, guiding both Esme and Abigail to the luggage claim area. Lyndon caught up with Abigail as she grabbed their luggage from the small carousel.

“You over your little bullshit yet?” he demanded and she could smell the beer on his breath.

“It, it’s not bullshit, Lynn,” she yelled.

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed, embarrassed that she was causing a scene in public.

“No, Lynn, I will not keep my voice down,” she yelled and he slapped her.

“Sir,” two security guards barked out.

“Jesus, what? Again with this bullshit?” Lyndon snapped then made the mistake of shoving one of the guards.

“Our car’s over at long term,” Kaja said, pointing.

“Need us to drop you off anywhere?” Esme asked.

“Aw, God! I, we, we put in for a married dorm room,” Abigail groaned. “I gave up my room and, aw great. Just great.”

“Central Lutheran?” Kaja guessed, waving a skycap over.

“Yeah, God. It took us forever,” Abigail whined.

“Where?” Kaja asked Esme.

“Hell, let’s just take her…” Esme shrugged.

“See?” Kaja smiled. “That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too,” Esme enthused.

Abigail was quiet as Esme drove toward her parents’ home. Kaja and Esme talked quietly but happily as they neared the Neige home.

“Okay, I demand to know why a huge wedding cake showed up at my front door this morning; it wasn’t even daylight yet,” Marta yelled, flinging open the front door as Kaja and Esme bustled toward the door.

“I’ll give you three guesses,” Esme smirked, holding out her left hand.

“Oh! Hello. Esme, who is this?” Marta asked as a forlorn looking Abigail wobbled up the five steps from ground to front door.

“This is Kaja, my spouse,” Esme said.

“I’m going to slap you in the head, Miss Smarty Pants,” Marta smirked at Esme’s triumphant smile. “Congratulations, Sweetheart. I could not be happier.”

“Thank you, Miss Marta,” Kaja said, returning Marta’s sincere hug. “And I told Esme…”

“Miss Marta? MISS MARTA? Uh?” Marta snapped, squeezing Kaja. “No, no, you need to call me ‘Mom.’ Now, who is the cute little red head you’re dragging around with you.”

“Mom? Oh!” Kaja gasped, then squealed, squeezing Marta fiercely.

“Oh, this? This is Abigail. We found her on the plane coming home,” Esme said flippantly. “Now, cake? Where is this cake?”

“Lucia put it in the large fridge. Hi Abigail, I’m Marta,” Marta said, holding out her right hand to the subdued girl.

“Hi,” Abigail whispered.

“Really? I, I am so, oh Mom!” Kaja enthused, again squeezing Marta fiercely.

Aloyse came into the room. He watched his wife and the three girls with some amusement. Greeting his daughter with a quick kiss to her cheek, he simply waved to Kaja and the stranger that seemed to huddle against herself.

“Aloyse, no. Do not run off to do God knows what,” Marta demanded. “Our two girls have some news to share.”

“Hmm?” Aloyse asked, mildly curious.

“We’re married,” Esme enthused, showing her father her engagement ring.

“Hmm? Who, well, where is the lucky son of a bitch?” Aloyse asked, looking around. “And hmm, I must have been in a coma; I don’t remember anyone asking me…”

“I. I’m the lucky son of a bitch,” Kaja admitted, also displaying her own engagement ring.

“Huh?” Aloyse asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Oh, Aloyse, really,” Marta said, herding the group toward the informal sitting room.

“Well, I knew they were friends, but…” Aloyse spluttered.

“So, tell me all about it; where did you two do the deed?” Marta demanded as Lucia entered the room. “Lucia! They, Esme and Kaja got married. Please get that wedding cake. Oh! Oh, where are…”

Marta pressed a button on the small end table. A metallic voice crackled and Marta ordered that the three servants come to the informal sitting room at once. Lucia reappeared a moment later, pushing a cart.

As convention dictated, Kaja and Esme cut the cake, then fed each other the first bite. Aloyse cleared his throat in obvious discomfort as Kaja and Esme kissed. Then, shooing Lucia to sit, Kaja sliced wedding cake for the guests. Marta smirked as Aloyse was the last person served.

“This came from that Logan’s Bakery,” Marta stated. “Lucia, while I love your cakes, I think my next birthday cake will come from Logan’s.”

“Oh?” Lucia said, obviously offended.

With no hesitation or shame, Kaja hooked her laptop computer to the television and played the recording of their mountaintop Nordic wedding ceremony. Marta again smirked; Aloyse was trying miserably to hide his erection as his daughter and her wife stood, nude while the ceremony proceeded.

“And, listen, I told Ess, I told Esme, I will sign whatever kind of post-nuptial agreement you want to do up,” Kaja assured Marta as the dvd faded to black.

“Kaja! Kaja Anne Heissman!” Marta snapped.

“Hmm? Oh, oh of course. Absolutely,” Aloyse agreed, still trying to hide his erection.

“Neige,” Kaja laughed. “I’m Kaja Neige from now on.”

“Kaja Anne Neige! You will not!” Marta said firmly. “There will be no pre-nuptial, post-nuptial; you, you are our daughter. We wouldn’t ask Esme to sign anything; why would we ask you to do that?”

“Told you,” Esme mouthed smugly.

“Whatever,” Kaja mouthed in reply.

After the servants left, wishing Esme and Kaja a long and happy union, Marta had Abigail tell her tale to Aloyse and Marta. Aloyse looked positively bored as Abigail sobbed, sniffled, and snarled her way through the tale of meeting Lyndon Boucher in the tenth grade and being attracted to his ‘bad boy’ attitude. Of course, now that they were in college, she had expected him to drop the ‘devil-may-care’ rebellious attitude. It was time to grow up; they were college students; they were eighteen years old, they were adults.

“Sweetheart, take it from me, boys never grow up,” Marta said gently.

“And I thought, I thought we get married; my dad’s uncle? He still lives in Ireland; his friend is a fisherman and some kind of cook but he got us an unbelievable price for a cabin on Nyrsol and my aunt is a pilot for Cavalier and I was hoping, we get married…” Abigail wailed.

“Oh, believe me, I understand,” Marta said quietly. “We’re always hoping that the wedding ring will make them grow up. Then we hope a baby will make them change. Then we hope a job. A job will make them change. Then it’s…”

“Good night,” Aloyse said abruptly, getting to his feet.

Esme and Kaja showed Abigail to the suite next to Esme’s old room. They both hugged the miserable red head, telling her to have a good night’s rest. In the morning, they would figure out what to do next.

“Wait. Your dad; can you go to him?” Kaja suddenly asked.

“He, he died when I was ten,” Abigail whispered. “And my mom’s boyfriend? He’s a real piece of work, you hear?”

In their bed, Esme and Kaja quietly discussed what they should do with Abigail. She was a second year nursing student; Lyndon still had not declared his major. Kaja put her finger over Esme’s lips when Esme suggested getting Abigail into Holmes & Chandler. Kissing Esme, Kaja softly stated that they were befriending the younger red head; they were not adopting her.

“Oh, oh, whatever,” Esme huffed.