Echoes of Edinburgh (7 page)

“I wouldn't call not looking in shop windows a criminal offense, exactly,” he said. “Some would say you're focused, and that's a positive quality.”

“Maybe I
should
stop and look in that shop window every now and then,” she said, her voice soft. “Do you understand what I mean?”

Their eyes locked. “I intend to help you look in as many shop windows as you'd like while you're in Edinburgh, Shelby.” As soon as the words escaped, Harrison wondered if he'd said too much and hoped she wouldn't misinterpret his meaning.

They stared at one another for another long moment, the current of attraction between them so strong it was almost tangible.

When Shelby turned back to the window, Harrison released the sigh he'd been holding.

“I don't know if it's because I was born in May or what, but I adore emeralds. The color is so rich and deep.”

“Yes, it is.” He forced his gaze away from the woman beside him. “Some believe wearing an emerald brings wisdom, growth, and patience.” What a goof he was. Enough already with the
some say, some believe
stuff. He'd hoped to sound halfway intelligent, and all he could do was spout ridiculous platitudes. Shelby could pretty much say or do anything, and he'd be satisfied to stare at her like a simpleton.

“Then maybe I should buy it for that reason alone. I could use a little more wisdom. And growth, I suppose. In certain ways.” She scrunched her pretty features into an almost comical frown. “Patience? Most definitely.” When she giggled, he knew he was lost.

“Did you know the emerald was Cleopatra's favorite gem?” He needed to keep the conversation moving or else he'd march inside that store and purchase the emerald necklace for her. That would be way too extravagant and definitely way too soon. Now he wanted to buy her jewelry?

Oh yeah, he had it bad.

Harrison cleared his throat. “As a parting gift to dignitaries visiting Egypt, Cleopatra bestowed upon them large emeralds engraved with her likeness.” He laughed when she gave him a look. “It's the honest truth.”

“Isn't most truth honest? It should be. That's why I find you absolutely fascinating, Harry. I mean, why say bestowed when you can simply say gave? And how do you know all these things, much less remember them?”

“It's a gift.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. History and trivia stick in my mind. I'll try to curb my inclination to spout random facts when I'm around you.”

“Oh, no, please feel free to share,” Shelby said, shaking her head. “I enjoy hearing them. You must have been a history major in college.”

Seeing their reflection in the shop window, side by side, Harrison caught her smile. “Economics, but a minor in history. Alabama. You?”

“Finance and economics. Kentucky.”

Made sense. No doubt she made the Dean's List every semester. “Do you want to go inside the store?” he said. “I might be able to talk down the owner on the price. Barter a little.”

“Better not, but who knows?” Shelby gave him a coy grin. “Be nice to me, and I might consider bestowing that emerald on you as a parting gift when I leave Scotland.”

“Deal, as long as it's engraved with
your
likeness.”

That comment silenced her for a moment. Harrison pulled out his newest camera from his pocket, a tiny gadget that took sharp photos and never failed to impress the kids. “I don't need an emerald, but I'd love to photograph you, if you'll allow me.”

When she nodded, he snapped her picture in front of the shop. For whatever reason, he'd thought she might not be photogenic, but she was incredibly natural and relaxed, even posing playfully. The photos would make a wonderful keepsake when it came to their eventual parting. His smile sobered even as he acknowledged that reality.

“It was so nice to be in church this morning,” she said. “Thanks, again.”

Nothing pleased Harrison more than when she reached for his hand. Her hand, so small and soft, fit inside his like it was designed by God for that very purpose. “It was my honor to have you beside me. I'm glad you enjoyed it.” He led her to a bench and waited until she seated herself first.

“Oh, I did. Everything about it.” Her eyes lit with enthusiasm. “Ever since Daddy's death, I haven't so much as set foot in a church. I've prayed before meals and whispered a short prayer whenever I needed help with something at work, but that's about it.” She darted a quick glance his way. “Not that I blamed God, but Mama and Daddy were too young to die. Too
good
to die is more like it. Pillars in the church and in Lexington. I'm not talking about their good works, either, although they did plenty of those.”

The honesty of Shelby's admission surprised him, but he liked that she felt comfortable enough to share her feelings. From personal experience, he knew it'd take time for her to resolve and fully accept the death of both her parents. “Tell me more.”

“My mom could be pretty strict and was much more the disciplinarian than my dad, but I never knew her to be unfair or unkind to anyone,” Shelby said. “She was the ultimate organizer, always volunteering to help with whatever needed to be done. Mama was very smart and had solid business sense. She was more practical, and Daddy was the dreamer.”

She smiled. “Smoking his pipe was the one habit he refused to break. My mom hated it, but I secretly liked it. The pipe was handcrafted by the mountain people of the Appalachian region in Eastern Kentucky, handed down by
his
father, and he treasured it. He'd rock with me in his favorite chair by the fireplace. He'd smoke that pipe, stroke my hair, and tell me old family stories, some I'm pretty sure he made up. I'd curl up in his lap and snuggle against him, safe and protected from the world. His voice was resonant and full of humor, and I could listen to him forever. He smelled wonderful, too—like hay, horses, the outdoors, and tobacco. They
were
my daddy.”

Harrison nodded, touched by her memories. “Your parents sound great. I know what you mean about associating certain scents with someone. Cinnamon and gardenias never fail to remind me of my mom.” He darted a glance her way. “Not necessarily at the same time, of course.”

“Your turn,” she said. “Tell me about your parents.”

“I was raised in Indonesia until my sister, Caroline, was born when I was three. For whatever reason, my parents decided to return home to the States. They'd met at a Bible college in Tennessee, but both were raised in Alabama, so that's where we permanently settled. Dad worked in accounting with various ministries for years and retired last year. My mom started a ministry before she died, and it's still very active. She'd love to know how well it's doing, and I like to think she does. Sometimes I still pick up the phone to call her. Whenever I go home, I expect her to be in the kitchen, cooking one of my favorite meals.” He hesitated and lowered his voice. “Waiting for me.”

Shelby turned to face him, her eyes wide. “I didn't realize you'd lost your mom, too. I'm so sorry, Harrison.” She touched his sleeve, her eyes brimming with compassion. “You must have been very close.”

“We were. Dad's still trying to cope with her death. Like your mom, she had cancer. Even though Dad had time to prepare for the eventuality, it didn't make it any easier when the end came after three long years. Last time I was home, this past Christmas, he admitted that accepting her passing has been his greatest crisis of faith. Although he understands it's a natural part of life—and it was actually a blessing since she was in a great deal of pain—Dad wishes he'd been the one to go first.”

“My dad felt the same way about losing Mama first.” Shelby ran a hand over her hair, pushing aside long blonde strands that caressed her cheeks in the breeze. “Know what I like most in what you just said? The way
your
voice goes soft when you talk about your mom. It's very sweet.”

“Does not.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “But my heart does. And you're a copycat.”

“Am not.” They shared a smile.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asked.

“Not unless you count thoroughbreds.”

Harrison chuckled. “I'd say it's time we eat. Are you hungry?”

“You must have heard my stomach growling during the service,” Shelby said. “It got pretty insistent toward the end. It was really embarrassing, so I did something I used to do when I was a kid.”

“What's that?”

“I looked around and acted surprised so people wouldn't suspect it was my stomach making all the noise.” She caught his glance and laughed. “Come on. Don't tell me you've never done it.”

“I thought it was
my
stomach. Call it tandem growling.” He pointed down the street. “There's a restaurant a couple of blocks away called Angels with Bagpipes. Over by St. Giles. I've wanted to try it for a while now, but it's usually booked. You never know, though. Want to go and see if we can get a table?”

“Absolutely,” Shelby said, looping her hand over his arm. “Lead the way.”

 

 

 

 

9

 

Harrison held open the door of Angels with Bagpipes and waited as Shelby passed through the entrance. “I'll go check with the hostess.” A minute later he returned to her side. “Good news. They had some cancellations and can seat us in a few minutes.”

They talked quietly and admired the floor-to-ceiling doors which overlooked the street. “This building must date back to the sixteenth century,” he said, glancing around the interior of the restaurant.

“Sounds like you know a little something about architecture.” Shelby's eyes shone bright in the much dimmer light inside the restaurant. “I do believe you can see the world go by through those doors. It's like being on the outside looking in, but in reverse.” She laughed. “That made absolutely no sense.”

“You make more sense than you know, Shelby.” Soon after, they were seated and studied their menus. Harrison ordered the Orkney scallops with the Stornoway black pudding, and she ordered the roast rump of Ross-shire lamb with cabbage and white beans. He asked the blessing, pleased when she reached again for his hand. After their food was delivered, she answered his questions about what she'd like to see in Edinburgh, and he made more mental notes.

“Chinese fire drill?” she asked halfway through their meal. “Switch plates with me if you dare.” With the impish grin she gave him, he'd agree to anything.

How could this woman survive as a stockbroker? Perhaps she repressed her sense of humor at work and needed the outlet this trip provided. Most women seemed ruled by time and were obsessed with how they looked, what they wore, and what others thought about them. Not Shelby, and he couldn't be more thrilled.

“Come on. Let's trade.” Shelby's coaxing tone brought him out of his musing. “Cabbage and beans are meant to be shared. Equal opportunity and all.”

“Sure. Here you go.” He chuckled as they exchanged plates. “Don't know why I've never done this before. You must have been a lot of fun at the lunch table in school. I'll tell you something else”—he gently clinked his water goblet against hers—“I like your style and sense of adventure.” That wasn't all he liked. In the case of Shelby, she charmed him to the point where he was hoping for a kiss.

A man threw open the doors from an adjacent room and burst into the dining area with a huge smile, lifting a champagne glass filled with liquid that threatened to overflow its sides. “Me bonnie Elspeth said aye! She's agreed to be me bride. I am the luckiest man in all of Scotland and the world!”

Cheers rang up all around them, and Shelby clapped with enthusiasm as the man drained his glass and shook the hands of well-wishers. An older woman seated behind Harrison explained what they'd witnessed.

When the excitement died down, Harrison beckoned Shelby closer. “Seems the room from which the newly betrothed man emerged is called the Halo Room. It's well-known as a place where a guy takes his special girl to ask for her hand in marriage.”

“So much for spontaneity and surprise, but it's very romantic,” Shelby said. “I hope the luckiest man in all of Scotland and the world and his Elspeth will be very happy together.” Her expression appeared wistful as she sipped her sparkling water. A twinge of envy pierced Harrison for that ebullient guy from the Halo Room.

Shelby lowered her glass. “You're awfully quiet, Harry. Did I say something wrong?”

“On the contrary.” Completely enamored, Harrison leaned close. He hesitated, hoping she could read what was in his mind, praying she wouldn't deny him the pleasure.

When her eyes lit, he interpreted it as encouragement. “That man might be the luckiest man in the world, but I'm the most blessed,” he whispered as he touched his lips to hers.

 

****

 

“That was so much fun. I'm glad we were able to get a table,” Shelby said. Since they'd departed Angels with Bagpipes, she'd rambled a bit. Maybe being kissed made her a little giddy. Listening to her observations as they made their way farther down The Royal Mile, Harrison appreciated the opportunity to view Edinburgh through fresh eyes again. The city held a lot of charm, none more so than with Shelby beside him.

“Stop right here.” After he lightly tugged on her hand near St. Giles Cathedral, Shelby turned back toward him. Those blue peepers would either be his undoing or his greatest fulfillment in life. “Look down, please. See the heart on the sidewalk?”

For once, she complied without question. “Aye,” she said, batting her long eyelashes. “If you're declaring your love for me, Harry, perhaps we should go back to the Halo Room?”

“Sorry to disappoint you but not this time. This is the famous Heart of Midlothian.”