Murrow Turning Over

Both families had arrived on time, cleared the venue of the previous event, put up the flowers and ribbons, and were sitting dutifully, waiting for them to enter.

London's lockdown had been eased marginally, and Sam and Elhaida were able to register their marriage. It was, incredibly, the first time their families were meeting in person.

"Kheeef halek?" Elhaida's mother asked Sam's mother.

"She says how are you?" Sam's sister had been learning Arabic, replying brightly.

"Oh, erm...I am fine," Sam's mother said slowly.

"Mum, you say..." Sam's sister began, but the priest had arrived and the music had started. They rushed to their seats.

Sam and his father were already lined up at the altar. "I'm nervous Dad," Sam said.

"Why? You love her don't you?"

"Oh no, I'm fine with that. I meant I can't remember my vows", Sam said, anxious. His father laughed.

"Just say what's in your heart...it will all be fine."

Sam nodded. Then his heart stopped. Elhaida had entered at the end of the hall. She was wearing a beautiful flowery dress, white with light green patterns of ivy vines and olive trees adorning the skirt and sleeves. It had been a rush job, purchased in one of the stores at Bicester Village, but it suited her beautifully.

Walking up to stand alongside Sam, Elhaida looked to him. "Last chance to skip town," she joked.

Sam shook his head with a laugh. "Too late for you," he replied.

The ceremony went by quickly. Elhaida's oldest brother gave a poetry recital, Sam's sister sang a hymn, all of the parents signed the registry, and finally it was just Sam and Elhaida, standing at the end of the aisle.

"Do you, Sam, Adam, Christopher Murrow-Maillard, take Elhaida Al-Saadi to be your lawful wedded wife?"

"I do". He put on her ring, slipping it onto her tanned, slender finger. It was Elhaida's turn.

"Do you, Elhaida Al-Saadi, take Sam, Adam, Christopher Murrow-Maillard to be your lawful wedded husband?"

They gazed back to each other. Elhaida smiled. "I do," She said.

***

One year later

She watched from the other house as the blonde woman climbed up into Sam's room, shutting the windows and the curtains behind her. Elhaida knew who it was. She was also certain she knew what was happening too.

She sat back in her chair, holding her stomach, knowing her truth. "By the end of tomorrow, she will be gone, and we will still be here," she told her baby, firmly. "Sam has slipped. I know why." Hot, angry tears welled up in her eyes. "I always knew she was the one...the one I always had to worry about."

She went to the window again, and watched the lights go out. The mountains of Scotland darkened around her, and the stars started to twinkle from above. "I could have her thrown out...ruin the wedding...but what would that achieve?" She said finally. "Nothing. Nothing but pain for everyone."

She looked down again, and sighed. "Little one, the pain I am going through for you. I will tell Sam tomorrow evening. I'll see his pain and anguish. He might even confess to me. It won't matter. It'll be you and me, and him, and we will do our best in this world."

***

Six months later

"I'm really sorry Sam. There was nothing more we could do. She lost too much blood, too quickly. Her stomach...there was so much strain on all of her organs. Once she went, we couldn't revive her."

"I couldn't even be in there with her...to say goodbye..." Sam said, tears flowing silently. "All these rules...and for what?"

"The protection of my staff, colleagues and other patients, I'm afraid." The doctor sounded bitter. "No exceptions, even if I want to give them. I am sorry."

Sam sniffed. "Doc, you've been amazing. Thank you so much for all that you've done. I'd shake your hand, but Uncle Boris said no." They shared a small laugh. "That was her favourite joke of lockdown," Sam said, unhappily. "Uncle Boris."

He looked at the tiny baby in his arms. "What do I do now Doc?"

"You get some rest. Wait for your family to arrive. You start at the beginning, and you keep going. We will do the rest for you." The doctor left the room, leaving Sam there, alone, with only the tiny form of the baby, wrapped in swaddle, sleeping gently in his arms.

***

Sam Murrow-Maillard stood there, silent, as the rain began to stop. Gentle drips from drops falling through the trees were the only sounds he heard.

He looked down at the polished marble, one last time, and turned to leave. As he stepped away, he felt an emptiness within him, turning him over and over.

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