Edwina (29 page)

“Can I go too?” This from Paige.

“Lass, ye are not auld enough,” Rose
answered. “Besides, the lass here needs some time to herself. And
ye and I are going to be busy sewing.”

“Sewing?” The girl’s eyes lit up.

“It is so, dearie. It is time ye were
learning a few stitches. Ye’ll have to sew for yer man.” She slid a
look at Mr. Gillespie.

Christmas day had ended with old dreams gone
and new ones born.

Chapter 47

I
t
was time to learn to skate. Mr. Gillespie presented the bladed
shoes, and Edwina gave him a look. The Scot had sent two pairs of
beautiful skates for Christmas... and the right sizes? Cecelia must
have told Mr. Dunnegin her shoe size.

He thought of everything, that was sure.
Well, most everything. At least Paige never lacked for material
needs.

Paige and Edwina’s first attempts at skimming
across the frozen pond had the older couple consumed in sidesplit-
ting laughter. Even though she’d lost at least ten pounds on her
daily walks with Paige, she still fell a dozen times, hard enough
to cry out. Her backside hurt for days. And learning at age
twenty-eight was not easy.

Paige had long legs like her father and
skated like a pro almost instantly. She loved the new sport and
dreamed of being a famous figure skater one day. Edwina helped her
visualize what it might be like to skate to beautiful music and
hear the people clapping. Her outfit would be long and whip behind
her like a flag in the wind. The boys would look, but she would not
look at them, Paige had said solemnly.

One day early in March the call came. Mr.
Dunnegin would be delayed another two months.

Paige had been devastated. At Edwina’s
request, they had marked each day off with a red crayon until her
father would come home. They were within days of his expected
return when the news arrived. It would be May or even June before
he came home.

The Laird had spoken with the Gillespies,
leaving them to tell her and Paige the news. “It couldn’t be
helped,” he’d said.

Already late March, Edwina had put off her
trip to Edinburgh. Paige’s fifth birthday had come and gone. Calls
had arrived from her father in America along with several new
gifts. Clothes from fancy stores. Books for school. Puzzles and
paint supplies, via Paige’s request.

If the truth were known, Edwina grew less
understanding of the man day by day. She had the privilege of
teaching and mentoring his little girl, but that gift belonged to
him.

“Lass, be on ye’re way to Edinburgh. Ye’ve
put it off long enough. And now with her father not coming home for
two more months, why don’t ye go off yerself? The lass and I will
be fine for a few days.”

After much planning and talking, Mrs.
Gillespie, having already talked to Laird Dunnegin, called Reardon
and told him to come for Edwina.

“Miss Blair,” Reardon had greeted her without
eye contact, placed her small bag in the back, and waited while she
settled in the car. He had been so friendly at first, was it
because he didn’t like her? She knew the answer, so she did not try
to make conversation on the way, just enjoyed the view. She’d been
here since mid-September and April was just around the corner. It
had not seemed that long. She was content.

“You have reservations near the Royal Mile.”
Reardon’s voice broke into her reverie. “Laird Dunnegin gave me
instructions to see you were well placed.”

“Thank you, Reardon,” Edwina spoke softly.
“When will you come for me?”

“Three days hence, miss.”

“I shall see you then.” The black car drove
away. Edwina sighed. The next three days were hers. She had money.
Most of it had gone into the bank account she set up via telephone.
She mailed her checks faithfully, required very little cash, and
Mr. Gillespie brought that to her when she needed it.

Now she wanted to withdraw enough money to
purchase several gifts for family members back home. She had not
sent gifts at Christmas, telling her father, Victoria, Cecelia, and
Spencer she would haul something home in her suitcase for them if
they’d be patient. The postage would have cost more than the gifts
themselves.

Rose had told her about a play. The first day
was set aside for gift shopping and moseying. The second day there
would be visits around Edinburgh’s shops and restaurants; she
wanted to absorb the culture, get to know the people; and finally
see the play in the evening.

During her gift shopping, Edwina did the most
foolish thing. She stopped in a bicycle shop and ordered two bikes.
One for her, one for Paige, and even more foolishly, told the man
at the counter she would make arrangements to come and get them.
Did the Scot’s man have a truck?

She called the cottage. Indeed, there was an
old truck at the farm. Rose had laughed.

“Imagine Reardon driving that!”

Edwina knew she’d make no points for this.
But then, he barely spoke to her anyway, so what harm could it
do?

Besides there was no one
else to do it? Mr. Gillespie had no time for such things. And
Reardon
was
the
Scot’s driver.

The next day she spent finishing her shopping
duties, then walked up the Royal Mile, turned left onto George IV
Bridge, then finally to Chambers Street to visit the Museum of
Scotland. Its historic storytelling was so informative she could
not leave. The visit to the library would have to wait for another
day.

With a new respect for the people and the
country, she walked among the ancient artifacts reading their
history and understood something on a deeper level. God had started
it all. Every race, every color, every person was a unique gift
with a job to do.

Sitting alone in the dark
room, excited to see the play entitled,
Exit Stage Left
. The marquis left
much to be desired, so she didn’t know whether to expect a musical
or an Italian Renaissance drama. She settled herself into the soft
seat and hoped for a romantic comedy or something
historical.

A sense of loneliness swept over her as the
play ended sadly. She hated books and movies that ended badly. She
could now add this play to that list. Indeed the beloved character,
after spending much time making the audience love her, exited the
stage in death.

Why hadn’t anyone told her it ended
tragically? She would have rather gone to the library. Tomorrow
that’s exactly what she planned to do. There were several libraries
located around the city. She’d check into some Scotland history for
her own story, which, of course, would not end sadly.

The day broke with sunshine. Edwina showered
and dressed casually. Her heart beat furiously as she stepped into
the small black European cab, where it drove her, at the cabbie’s
suggestion to the Fountainbridge Library. She exited, gazing at the
tall building, paid the cabbie and instructed him to return at 4
p.m.

At the appointed hour, she bade the library a
sad fare- well, wishing she’d spent the entire time there.
Photocopies of noteworthy places, and notes enough to fill a small
volume were in her purse. She found several ideas for classroom
activities for Paige as well. All in all it had been the best
day.

The following morning she packed her things
and waited to meet Reardon, collect the bikes, and head back to
Beaufort Manor.

Everything ready, she checked her watch.
Fifteen minutes early. She sat in the waiting room of the hotel and
looked for the black car, then remembered she should be looking for
an older truck. But what kind, what color? She’d never thought to
ask.

Straining her neck at the window, she felt a
light tap. “Miss Blair, if you will come with me.” Reardon’s face
was red. That was strange. The man never

seemed to have any visible emotions. If she
had her guess, he had some now.

He reached for her case, heavier now by a few
pounds of notes and papers, and the bag of gifts. She carried her
purse and a small package and followed him. They walked outside and
kept walking.

“Where are you parked?” she finally asked. He
didn’t answer. When Reardon stopped next to the red rusty
beat-up

truck with little strands of hay sticking in
the window cracks, she fell apart.

“You drove this?” She could not stop
laughing. Her emotions were out of control. She bent over with the
trying to hold it in.

The side panels were crashed in like someone
had used the door for softball practice. The bed of the ancient
thing was sitting crooked on the wheelbase. No wonder Reardon had
parked way out here.

Without a single glance in her direction, he
lifted her case and bag and put them in the bed of the rusty truck,
then seated himself.

“Where would the bicycles be?” he asked,
staring out the filthy front window.

She walked around the front of the truck and
opened the door, which creaked loudly, and let herself in.
Apparently Reardon forgot his gentlemanly duties. She gave him
directions. Right in the middle of town the truck backfired,
sending her into fits again.

“I, I’m so sorry,” she sputtered. “I don’t
mean to—”

“Miss Blair, it would be good for me ears if
you were quiet.”

“Yes, it would,” she agreed and pressed her
hand tighter over her mouth.

Bikes safely set in the back on an old
blanket he had brought, they bumped and backfired all the way back
to Beaufort Manor.

When they pulled into the long drive, Reardon
drove around the back, straight across the grass to a little
garage. It must be where the truck had been housed. She had never
noticed it before. Reardon’s white gloves were filthy too. He kept
smacking them together, raising a dust storm. Even Mrs. Gillespie
would never get all that dirt out of those gloves.

“Please don’t tell Paige about the bikes,”
she said to Reardon. “It’s a surprise.”

Amazingly, the man’s eyebrows lifted upward
slightly. Had she made a good impression by chance? Doubtful, but
then she had given him quite an awful day for a valet used to
performing more sophisticated services for his master, rather than
an American woman with foolish ideas.

After the bikes were stowed away in the barn
and the truck backed into the tiny garage, she saw Reardon pull off
his gloves and drop them into the trash can. He did not bid her
good-bye, but walked to up to the manor, dusting himself off as he
went. Soon, the black car drove slowly down the lane. She was sure
he’d never forgive her.

Edwina broke into laughter again as she
trudged back to the house with her packages. Her suitcase and bag
had been taken out of the truck and left. Reardon had forgotten all
about it. When Mr. Gillespie saw her dragging the heavy suitcase
across the grass, he came stalking to her and took the handle.
“Miss, what ye be doin’ such work with a man aboot?”

“Time I learned to take care of myself,” she
said. “Besides, Reardon was too busy.” She smiled.

“Aye, the man can’t dirty his hands, tis
sure. But he was born to it.” The older man wasn’t even breathing
hard.

“I guess you’re right. We’re all born for
something different aren’t we, Mr. Gillespie?”

“Ye’d be right aboot that. And call me Leith,
lass.” Edwina smiled, “Thank you, Leith.” Paige came running out.
“You’re back. Can I see what

you bought? Can we go on the bus when my
father comes home? I’ll be old enough by then.”

“Lass, stop asking me questions.” Edwina fell
into the Scottish ways again. “I have some trinkets for you, but
you’re going to make me forget where they are.” They entered the
kitchen.

Paige’s eyes lit up, and she danced around,
making a pest of herself.

“Sit yerself down, child. Ye are aboot to
make this old woman wish she had stayed abed,” Rose fussed at her.
“And ye haven’t had yer bath. Tut-tut.”

“I know, but it can wait, right Edwina?”

“It’ll wait, all right—about five minutes.
Take your bath and we’ll talk. I’ll come to your room.”

“Ye will?” Paige hugged her, then ran
off.

Edwina’s heart skipped a beat. She had missed
the child.

Chapter 48

T
he weeks passed quick enough for there was, again, the hope
of the Laird returning to the manor. Paige was becoming more
active, ready for the new spring days that hinted of summer eves to
come. Especially since Edwina had revealed the new bikes. She was
anxious to ride, but the days had been cold and rainy.

Edwina created her romance story, furiously
writing in longhand. Day after day it seemed to roll out of her
mind like a ribbon rolling off a spool. Deep in thought, she gazed
out at the familiar knolls. The sun was high in the sky.

“Shall we take a walk?” Edwina stood from the
Scot’s chair and stretched.

“Can we?” Paige looked up from her work, eyes
shining with anticipation.

“Of course. We’ll make it a science project
and check the dirt for new blooms. Today we will not take paper.
We’ll learn to memorize. First we will sight a flower, then call
out the name and spell it correctly.”

“I can spell
daisy
,” Paige said
smartly as she put her pencils and crayons in the cup. “And I can
spell
flower
too.”

“
Yes, you can. And today
you will learn more.”

“Can we ride our bikes yet?” Paige knew the
answer, Edwina could tell. “Just as I thought,” she said, lips
pursed.

“You are not a child, you are an adult.”
Edwina mussed her hair.

“No, I’m not. I don’t want to be one,” Paige
dove under the desk to retrieve her shoes. Indeed her teacher had
taught her a bad habit—she kicked her shoes off each time she sat
down.