Edwina (21 page)

“Will ye think aboot it then?”

“Yes, I will think about it,” she promised.
“How old is your daughter?”

“She is barely five years of age. She should
be in school but alas cannot be let away from the house.”

“Has she a physical ailment, then?”

“
No. But I cannot explain
now. You will have to trust me, Miss Blair." He caught her eyes
with his. “Aye. We will speak tomorrow, and then I leave for
Scotland. It is regretful I need to know by tomorrow.” He was truly
repentant.

“I couldn’t possibly make a decision about
something that important by tomorrow... I’m sorry.” It was her turn
to apologize.

“Then take the time ye need. For I would not
have ye come and leave again. A child requires consistency, and I
would have it for my daughter.”

“So the position is still for one year?”

“Indeed it is. If ye cannot abide that, do
not come.” She nodded. The man was driving a hard bargain.

“Mr. & Mrs. Gillespie cook and keep the
grounds at the farm, so ye need not be aboot household duties. I
would have ye spend time with the child, walking the hills,
reading, teaching letters, numbers, a second language if ye can do
it, and to teach her about being a woman.”

Edwina could feel the back of her neck
twitch. She was getting a headache. This was too much, way too much
for her tired mind. The Scot had better look for another.

“Look, I can see right now that I could not
possibly fulfill all those duties. You had better look elsewhere. I
can ask Cecelia. She knows lots of people with better education and
social standing than I could ever hope to—”

“Lass, ye are stone-headed.”

“What?” Edwina gave him a look. Here she was
pouring her heart out trying to explain, and he had called her
stone-headed.

“Have ye not heard anything? I want a person,
not a professional socialite.”

The word
socialite
coming from
his Scottish mouth nearly sent her into hysterics.

“
And ye smile at my
words?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m just overwhelmed.” She
felt her reasoning crumbling under his eye. He was about to force
an answer out of her, she was sure of it.

“I will think about it. That’s all,” she
said, hoping the conversation would end there because somewhere
deep inside she wanted to say yes.

Something popped into her mind. “What about
Ilana?”

“I already told ye, she was not the woman I
thought her to be. We are no longer engaged.”

“Oh.” She thought perhaps if the Scot would
marry . . .

“I have been foolish in trying to find a wife
so she can take up duties as my bairn’s mother. I am done with
that.” He waved his arm.

“I see.”

He called for the waiter. “Coffee?” He
directed the question to her.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Will ye think aboot it?”

“Yes.” What was she thinking. She never drank
coffee.

“That’s all I ask. But above all, do not let
anyone know of our conversation. I would be aboot complete privacy
in this matter.”

His no-nonsense tone settled on her heart.
This was serious business. It would require her to move to
Scotland, give a large portion of her life to a child—the Scot’s
child. She still couldn’t believe he was a father... had a wife who
died. She wondered how he was doing as a man with a small child to
raise and no wife. Surely it had been difficult.

All these thoughts chased through her
mind.

She would live on a farm. The Gillespies
nearby. That would be a comfort. And she could walk among the
rolling hills, the memories of which she seemed so attached to
these days. Of course she’d have to take room and board out of her
pay. She would refuse to live there rent-free.

She sipped water while the waiter poured
coffee into the white china cups with the gold rims.

Vexed with herself, she realized she was
already considering the prospect. She could not just run off, leave
her apartment, the possibility of a new job in Niles, or maybe even
the chance to further her education. . . .

All of a sudden, Edwina
realized she had very little to hold on to. And she
had
asked God for a job
that would allow her to think about someone other than herself. Was
the answer sitting right in front of her?

A gush of breath poured from her lungs.
“Could we go, please?”

“Of course.” The Scot waved to the waiter
once again.

Edwina started to lift herself from the
chair, but the Scot came around quickly and pulled out her chair.
She made sure she didn’t touch him. If... if she took this job,
there would have to be rules. She would have to tie her heart up
like a trussed bird and ignore any romantic ideas she had
heretofore. Could she do that?

Silly. Of course, the Scot was not likely to
notice her for any more than she was. A plain girl from a little
town in Michigan who had the ability to befriend his daughter and
teach her.

The Scot would marry someone, no doubt, and
they would take the little girl and live happily ever after.

Perhaps she should decline the offer.

Before she knew it, the Scot was putting her
in his car. The street lights flashed by like they were going a
hundred miles an hour, just like her life, when in reality they
were just pulling up to Cecelia’s condo.

“Ye will delay your trip home for a day?”

“Yes,” she said and hooked her hand into the
door handle before remembering the Scot would come around and get
her.

They were standing beneath
the royal blue awning with gold letters.
Cecelia’s Place.
Edwina could not
imagine not coming here. She knew then she could not go with the
Scot.

“Aye. I’m taking the evening flight to
Edinburgh tomorrow. I leave at half past eight. I’ll expect to hear
from ye, lass.”

Edwina nodded and turned to leave, then
turned back. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Aye.” He waved as he walked around and bent
down to get in the driver’s seat. She watched as the black car
drove up Michigan Street, the red lights disappearing into the
darkness.

Chapter 35

S
afely inside the condo, Edwina knew Cecelia was not expecting
her. They had already said their good-byes. She should have called
and explained that she had not gone home as planned. It was late,
so she wrote a note and stuck it on the refrigerator. Her sister
would find it and her in the morning.

“Ed, I found your note.”

Edwina heard her sister’s voice from the
doorway and lifted herself slightly.

“Sorry I didn’t call you and let you know I
was coming back. Things happened too fast.”

“What things?” Her sister was donning her
earrings. “Oh, I’ll talk to you later, Cece. I got in late.”

“Okay, gotta run. Two meetings this morning,
two later

on. Will you be here tonight?”

“No. I’m going home. Thanks for letting me
stay.”

“Of course, Ed. Why would you think that
bothers me?”

“Oh, I don’t know... just... I don’t know.”
Her sister disappeared and then was back at the door again. Edwina
could smell Cecelia’s vanilla perfume.

“You’re sounding melancholy this morning,”
she teased.

“Nothing to worry about.”

“Ed, you must look at yourself and see what
you want in life. Things don’t just come to you, you have to work
at it.”

“You’re telling me,” Edwina said grumpily,
but again Cecelia was gone. She heard the clip of the door as it
shut.

Alone in the Rose Room, Edwina turned to her
side and let the tears fall. For some strange and awful reason she
felt like crying. So she did.

Where had her resolve gone? Her life had been
completely rearranged by some hand out there. God was in his
heavens. Had she missed something important He was trying to tell
her? What now? How could she accept the Scot’s offer? How could she
refuse it? And she had until 8:30 this evening to make up her
mind.

Suddenly she knew what she had to do. Go
home.

Throwing back the covers, she showered,
pulled on her comfy black jeans and an old T-shirt, slipped on her
Birkenstocks, and set her suitcase by the door.

A quick note of thanks to her sister and she
was off, sorry to have missed Spencer. She could hang with him. He
laughed. He moved. He made her feel important.

Smiling at the thought of him, she pressed
down her woebegone emotions and thought about Spencer. What would
he do in her situation? He’d take on the challenge. She knew it.
He’d blast right in and start doing... something.

She walked, hit the elevator button, and
mused. Perhaps it was what she needed to do. She could march right
over to Scotland, meet the Scot’s daughter, and make something of
her life... or she could stay here and find a job worthy of her
skills and make something of her life that way.

Of course, her practical nature chose
staying. But those hills and Bertie... they called her like a
mourning dove calls its mate. Where did that come from?

Her mind was deviating from
making a decision. She could feel the pull. Her practical nature
screamed,
Don’t make waves! Take the sure
thing.
But her new adventurous spirit, if
you could call it that, was saying,
Why
not?

“I could always stop and
come home if it doesn’t work,” she said aloud as she unlocked the
door of her Volkswagen and pushed the suitcase into the miniature
backseat.
But no that wouldn’t work. The
Scot said she had to commit to one year.

“Then again, if I never go, I can’t be
hurt—especially if Alexander and Cecelia get together.” That
brought some- thing else up. She hadn’t realized it until now. The
Scot had not wanted her sister to know he’d stood her up. And when
would they have time for the date Cecelia mentioned? The Scot was
returning home this evening, and Cecelia said she had meetings.

Hmm... something was always cooking in the
pot.

What was all this to her anyway? The Scot
wanted her services, not her emotions. She knew that well,
especially after that comment he made about squashing her emotions
or whatever he said. He was not one to mince words.

Actually, that was something she could deal
with. Edwina hated it when people walked around the block, trying
to relay some problem, but never really stating what it was. She’d
rather get to it, so she could apply a sensible answer.

Right at the moment she was powerless to make
a decision about her own miserable life. What was she thinking?
Condemning others for their lack of life skills when she couldn’t
even make up her mind about her own life.

Edwina pulled out of the parking lot. She
looked at the paper sitting on the passenger seat. The Scot’s
telephone number, in big bold script. She turned the paper over and
looked at it. Even without the bold numbers staring at her, it was
still there, waiting for her answer.

Music. She needed music. The oldies station.
She popped buttons and turned up the volume. Time to sing. The Bee
Gees were singing “Alone Again.” Their songs had a peg on life,
that was a sure thing. The miles melted away.

By the time she turned into her dirt drive,
she felt better. She’d forgotten the paper on the front seat for a
time and had just let the wind blow her hair. It was getting too
long and heavy down her back. Even pulling it atop her head these
days gave her a headache. She needed her friend Peggy to give her a
good cut.

Back home, she reveled in seeing the house
she lived in. The familiar oak, its branches swaying and shading
her kitchen from the morning sun. She stopped under the tree and
ran her hands along the bark.

Dragging her case up the stairs, she opened
the door and felt the heat hit her face. The late August sun was
burning today. After a trip to the bathroom, she plopped in her
favorite old stuffed chair, turned on the miniature fan setting on
the table and picked up the book she had left lying across the
arm.

A classic novel, as
usual
. Little Women
. Louisa May Alcott was another favorite author. She was on
her third read. It was an older hardback book. She had access to
these older volumes and had begun a collection. Of
course.

She stared at the bookcase, which was nearly
fainting from the weight, and smiled. She’d read each of the books
therein at least three times each. Not to mention all the other
stuff she’d read as it came across her desk. Voracious. And
insane.

Life was too short. That’s what Spencer said,
didn’t he? Thus far, she’d read about every adventure possible, but
she’d never lived one. Except for the unplanned trip to Scotland.
And look where that got her.

“Into deep trouble,” she murmured and
resolved to unpack, make a walk to the grocery store, and then...
what?

She called Peggy and made an appointment for
early afternoon. Peggy always cut her hair in exchange for the loan
of two or three of her books. Today she would pay her.

Stashing away her worries for another moment,
she finished the task at hand and walked down the stairs. The
grocery was only eight blocks away. Peanut butter, jelly, bread.
Nothing more. She had to save money. Money. She had a bit of
savings set aside, but promised herself she wouldn’t touch it. She
rather liked living on meager means just to see how far she could
stretch a dime.

Then she thought of the two hundred dollar
dress she had just hung in her tiny closet. The black crepe had
looked too elegant hanging on the old rod. That dress would never
see the Goodwill store.

Edwina came home from the grocery, made two
sandwiches, then walked out the door. She wanted to get her hair
cut and then take a walk by the river down at the park, so she
could think clearly. The hours were going too quickly.