by JoAnn Durgin
When the first round of food arrived, Robert offered a prayer.
“Oats are a staple here,” Robert said, holding out the plate of starters to her. “Bannocks are cakes made from oats.” He waited while she selected one and put it on her plate. “And this is crowdie, more or less the Scottish version of cream cheese. They’re often eaten together. May I?” When she nodded, he put a sample on her plate.
“Crowdie is a little crumbly and tastes slightly sour,” Harrison added. “It also helps alleviate the effects of whiskey, which here in Scotland is spelled w-h-i-s-k-y.” When she laughed, he shrugged. “Not that it matters much, I suppose. A fun fact to know and tell.”
Shelby twisted her lips. “So, is Abernethy’s your usual watering hole?”
“Hardly.” Harrison laughed. “Learned that lesson a long time ago. A little goes a long way, my friend.”
“This tastes really good,” Shelby said as she sampled the bannocks and helped herself to another. “Better than I anticipated.” Trying the crowdie, she found it palatable but more of an acquired taste.
Assisted by a young male server holding a tray, Nessie placed steaming bowls of soup and a small loaf of homemade bread on the table. Shelby breathed in the wonderful aromas. “This all looks and smells great. So,” she said, addressing Harrison, “tell me more about your work with the foundation.”
“I work with the individuals and organizations who apply to sponsor programs.” From the spark in his eye, Harrison’s love of his work was readily apparent. “I take photos, gather pertinent information, conduct interviews and order background checks, financial statements, that sort of thing. Then I assimilate everything, write up my reports, and present my recommendations to the foundation board.”
“Not everyone who applies to be a sponsor is accepted?” Shelby said, knowing her surprise must be evident.
Harrison shook his head. “The short answer is no. For one thing, we never accept funding from a company that supports causes contradictory or anathema to Christianity. It’s important to investigate the company’s policies, personnel, political funding, overall reputation in the community, and world standing. Sometimes I need to dig deep to find some of their...activities. To suit their own purposes, they can keep them well-hidden. And,” he said, blowing out a sigh, “that applies to individuals as well.”
Shelby paused her spoon halfway to her mouth and noted the set of Harrison’s jaw, the firm line of his lips. “It sounds almost like…I don’t know, some kind of spy game, and you’re the lead detective.” She shook her head. “Sorry. Take me out of my office, and my imagination runs amuck with crazy ideas.”
“You’re closer to the truth than you know.” Harrison lowered his voice. “It’s my responsibility, and my honor, to uphold and protect the interests of the foundation.” Truly, this man was a knight in shining armor with an uncommon dedication to his work.
“I’m impressed. That’s very admirable. It’s not just a job to you, is it?” In contrast to what she did—making rich people richer—Harrison did something to benefit those who really needed help. How could such work not be incredibly soul-satisfying and rewarding? In an odd way, it humbled and almost shamed her.
“It’s in my lifeblood, and I’m blessed to do something I love,” he said. “But so are you, Shelby, and there’s a place for it all. We can’t all be out saving the world from itself.”
“Harrison’s being much too humble, Shelby,” Robert said as she pondered that last comment. “He actually...”
An older gentleman called out a greeting and planted a hand on Robert’s shoulder. After introducing them, Robert turned to speak more privately with his friend. The close proximity of the tables made for easy exchanges between patrons. From his constant smiles and gregarious manner, Robert must know a number of the other patrons.
“What do you think Robert started to say?” she said to Harrison. Maybe that was nosy, but her interest was piqued.
Harrison took a long drink of water before answering. “Oh, I’m sure he was going to mention the foundation’s primary focus is helping special needs children.”
Talk about humbling. “That must be very gratifying.”
Draping one arm over the back of her chair, Harrison shifted to face her. “It is, and a big reason why I love it. Ever heard of the Scottish-American industrialist, Andrew Carnegie?”
Shelby gulped. “Sure. You actually work for one of the Carnegie foundations?”
“Nope. Just wanted to get you going.”
Shaking her head as Harrison chuckled, Shelby dipped a thick slice of bread in her soup and swirled it in her nearly empty bowl as she’d seen Robert do.
“So, what do you think of the cock-a-leekie?”
“It’s quite delicious for a soup named so unfortunately.”
Harrison almost spit his drink of water on the table. He shoved a curled fist over his mouth and coughed in between chuckles.
Wiping her napkin across her mouth, Shelby managed not to crack a smile. “Although I’m sure you’re dying to tell me, feel free to keep the origin of the name to yourself.”
“Like I said, you’re going to get along fine here, Shelby. Proper as they are, the Scots can be quite irreverent once you get to know them. You’ll be glad—or should I say relieved—to know I haven’t a clue about the name cock-a-leekie other than it has something to do with chickens...and leeks. Um,” he said, clearing his throat, “that’s leek as in the vegetable. Like the onion or whatever. So we’re clear.”
Seemed even Harrison could get flustered and ramble every now and then. Of course, it only added to his charm. Fine breeding, great teeth, and strong musculature notwithstanding, Shelby didn’t wish to be caught studying him the way her father used to examine his horses.
He’s a man, not a thoroughbred.
Robert told her more about Edinburgh as they enjoyed a main course of seafood indigenous to Scotland. If asked, she wouldn’t have been able to call it by name, but it wasn’t half bad. She laughed when Harrison told her some claimed that the best meals in Scotland were breakfast and tea.
As they finished their meal a short time later, Shelby laid the spoon on the tablecloth beside her empty bowl. With all the client presentations she made, she couldn’t believe how her heart pounded. Why was she so nervous? Taking a quick breath, she coached herself to calm down. No reason to worry.
Beside her, she felt Harrison’s intense gaze as if he somehow sensed she was about to do something significant. The man was uncanny in his ability to read people...or maybe only with her? How was that possible when they barely knew one another? Well, that was neither here nor there. She had more important things to do than to ponder her growing attraction to a man she’d likely never see again once she left Scotland.
Shelby inhaled a quick breath. Here we go, Daddy.
“Robert, I have something to give you.”
4
Shelby retrieved the envelope from the front pocket of her handbag and placed it face down on the tablecloth. She did it in part so Robert would see the distinctive Harmony Lane seal, the same one from the past century. “This envelope is what brought me to Edinburgh. I found it when I was going through my dad’s things.”
Robert appeared deep in thought. His brow creased, he smoothed one finger over the raised maroon seal. Turning the envelope over, his gaze swept over the small, precise lettering—a hallmark of her father’s penmanship—spelling out his name with “Personal & Confidential” stamped below it. “You came all the way to Scotland to deliver this to me, lass?” When she nodded, he lifted his gaze to hers. “Your daddy’s gone now?”
“Yes, and...” She hesitated before saying the words she knew might impact him even more. “Mama, too.”
Robert blinked, his eyes bright before he covered her hand with his. He might have felt she needed it, but perhaps he needed the personal contact every bit as much. “I’m very sorry, Shelby. May I ask when?” His voice was gruff with emotion as he massaged his fingers over his
forehead. Beside her, Harrison murmured his sympathies.
Shelby swallowed hard, deriving unexpected, sweet comfort from these uncommonly kind and compassionate men. “Mama died five years ago from cancer, and Daddy suffered a massive heart attack six months ago.” Momentarily unable to speak, she dabbed the cloth napkin in the corner of her eye and released a shuddering breath. “I thank the Lord he lived long enough for me to hop a flight home so we could say good-bye. For the first time in my life, I fully understood what the word closure meant.” Biting her lower lip, she steeled herself not to cry.
“So young to pass, both of them. Thank you for bringing this envelope to me,” Robert said, his voice gentle. “I’m surprised you didn’t open it.”
Wiping away an escaping tear, Shelby smiled through watery eyes. “It wasn’t mine to open.”
Robert tapped the edge of the envelope on the table. “You’re honoring your dad’s memory. He’d be spittin’ proud of you for that loyalty. You brought this letter to me personally when you could have chosen a much easier way.”
Tears stung her eyes. ‘Spittin’ proud’ was one of her father’s favorite expressions. With Robert’s comment came a revelation she hadn’t considered. “I...” she said, fumbling for an adequate response. Her father’s whispered words from his deathbed wisped like ribbons threading through Shelby’s memories. “Before he died, Daddy made me promise to help this envelope ‘find its way home.’ I didn’t know what he meant, but”—she glanced at Robert—“given the circumstances, I’d have promised him anything.”
A week after Tom Harmon’s funeral, she’d found an envelope on top of a stack of legal documents in his office. If asked, she’d never be able to explain it, but in her heart, Shelby knew it was the one he’d meant. Sitting across from Robert now, she understood traveling across the globe to Edinburgh had been the right thing. Whatever his reason or motivation, her father had wanted her to meet this man.
Robert nodded and the envelope disappeared beneath the table, presumably into the pocket of his slacks. “I’ll open it later, if you don’t mind. In private.”
“It’s yours to do with as you wish.”
“I’m sure you’re curious, lass. I imagine it’d be a Pandora’s Box to most people. As I said, you’re a lot like your mother. In all the best ways from what I can tell. So,” he said with a nod to Harrison, “are you two game for a driving tour? It’ll give you a good bird’s eye view of Edinburgh, Shelby. Maybe you’ll find places to explore further while you’re here.”
“I’d love it, but please don’t feel obligated to entertain me.”
“Oh, he doesn’t,” Harrison said, “but you’re a lot prettier than me. I hope it’s all right with you if I tag along.”
With a lift of her chin, Shelby held his gaze. “Why not? You’re always entertaining, Harry.”
5
“You two wait here. I’ll bring the car around.” When they exited Abernethy’s, and Robert pulled keys from his pocket, Shelby caught a glimpse of the envelope peeking out from his pocket. He slowly made his way down the street, favoring his right leg as he’d done when she first met him.
“I’ve noticed Robert has a limp,” she said. “Do you know why?”
Harrison nodded. “War injury. It’s always worse after he’s been sitting for an extended time, and it takes him a bit to ease out the kinks. He served three tours of duty in the U.S. Army. Special Forces. The way Pops tells it, his kneecap was shattered by ‘the grenade from Grenada’ back in 1983. Earned a Purple Heart, but he’s very private about it. I found a newspaper clipping about it tucked in his Bible.”
“He’s a true hero,” Shelby said, awed. “I’m not surprised. Matter of fact, he was wearing combat boots in the Castlehill Gardens yesterday. How long has he lived in Edinburgh?”
“Since about 1985. After the war, he went back home to Kentucky and finished his education. His uncle lived here in Edinburgh at the time. Pops came for a summer visit, loved it, got a job at the castle, bought a home and never returned to Kentucky to my knowledge. His family moved on to Arizona. His parents and sister still live there.”
When she strolled to a nearby bench, Harrison followed. Again, the mere brush of his arm against hers jumpstarted Shelby’s pulse as he dropped down beside her. “My theory? He left a sweetheart in Kentucky when he went off to war,” Harrison said. “When he came back home, she’d moved on. To my knowledge, Robert’s never married.”
“He’s such a good man, and so humble.” Sitting back on the bench, Shelby blew out a sigh. “When I made that promise to Daddy, I had no idea it’d involve a trip to Edinburgh. In some ways, I think it was what some people call a ‘God’ thing. You know, meant to be.”
“I’m a big believer in those ‘God’ things.” Harrison smiled. “How else to explain those events in our lives that are nothing short of miraculous?”
“Right.” She nodded, lost in thought. Harrison had an uncommon depth of wisdom and certainly more than most people their age. Sure, she’d experienced miracles, but the events of the last few years had pushed them to the back of her mind, clouded with personal heartache. “I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but I’m surprised he’s a gardener. He could do so much with his life.”
Harrison’s brows rose. “Pops is humble, but he’s no gardener. He actually holds a top-level security position. So high level he can’t discuss it with anyone.”
Shelby’s mouth gaped at that revelation. “In that case, I’m surprised they’d hire an American and entrust the care of the national treasure of Scotland to a foreigner.” She closed her mouth, feeling awkward.
“I’m sure it has a lot to do with his military background. Robert’s proven he can keep secrets. Loyalty means everything.” Harrison’s gaze met hers. “Seems you might know a little something about that.”
Her curiosity got the better of her and Shelby pushed on. “If he’s not a gardener, then why was he working in the Castlehill Gardens yesterday afternoon?”
Harrison chuckled. “It’s his haven when things get a little crazy. Pops says it always helps him feel closer to the Lord when he’s working the land. Hands in the soil, the connection with the earth. Feeling the dirt between his fingers somehow soothes and relaxes him. Not to make him sound like some kind of New Age devotee. Pops is a man of faith, but like most things in his life, it’s deeply personal, quiet and private. He once said—on one of the rare occasions I’ve heard him mention Kentucky—that working with the horses at Harmony Lane gave him that same sense of gratification. Cultivating the roses in the Castlehill Gardens is his pride and joy.”
When she didn’t respond right away, Harrison shifted to face her. “Did you remember something else about the letter?”
“No. I’m thinking about home.” No way would she admit she was thinking about the man sitting on the bench beside her now.
“If I had to guess, I’d say that’s Lexington, not Chicago.”
A sigh slipped past her lips. He was right. Harmony Lane was ingrained in her subconscious, never far from her mind, forever in her heart. The unforgettable fragrance of freshly mown grass, the sight of a magnificent thoroughbred galloping in the fields with unequaled speed and agility, the feel of the horse’s powerful muscles beneath her as it reached its stride, and the unbelievable satisfaction of working the farm to the point of exhaustion. The heartbreak of losing a horse was counterbalanced by the incomparable joy of witnessing a foal’s birth. All those aspects, combined with growing up on the horse farm, made it home.
“You’re a very perceptive man,” she said. “Either that or I’m much more transparent than I’d thought.”
“It’s honest, Shelby, and that’s a very appealing quality.” Harrison’s smile was gentle. “Something tells me you’re not used to opening up to others. I personally recommend it as a very liberating exercise.”
“Let’s shelve that discussion for another time.”
“Sounds like you’re hoping I’ll stick around to entertain you.”
Those tiny lines around Harrison’s eyes crinkled. Scary how easily she was already growing accustomed to them.
“Well,” she said, “if nothing else, I’m sure you’re a cum laude graduate of Dale Carnegie’s program, How to Win Friends and Influence People.”
“Interesting you should bring that up since Dale also wrote How to Stop Worrying and Start Living.”
Shelby twirled a long strand of hair around one finger—a habit she’d believed broken back in the ninth grade—and tried to quell her rising irritation. “Don’t presume to know about my life, Harrison.” That comment might be perceived as rude, but she wasn’t comfortable with anyone making assumptions.
He didn’t bat an eyelash, although he could throw the comment back in her face, and she’d deserve it. More unsettling was how this man she barely knew could make such spot-on observations. He couldn’t have any idea of the weighty decisions facing her regarding the future of Harmony Lane. Couldn’t know of the long evenings and weekends spent in her office, buried in her work. Know that her social life consisted of charity events and gala openings with work colleagues instead of sharing coffee, a movie, or shopping with a girlfriend.
“Then enlighten me, please. I’d love to know.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, snapping to attention and releasing the strand of her hair. “I didn’t mean to sound so abrupt.” He must think she made a habit of snipping at people when they ventured too close to the truth and hit a nerve. The thought sobered her. Did she?
“Tell me more about your dad, if you want.”
Shelby glanced down the street. “Shouldn’t Robert be coming soon?”
Harrison chuckled. “In case you haven’t noticed, Pops is giving us privacy. He’ll be along in a few minutes.”
Closing her eyes as a way to avoid that piercing gaze that saw so much, Shelby envisioned her father’s handsome face. “Daddy used to sing to me every night even though he couldn’t carry a tune.” A hint of a smile curved her lips. “He taught me to ride and jump. He also taught me how to stand up for myself when a girl made fun of my braces in seventh grade. Danced with me in the living room so I’d know what to do before my first boy-girl party. Smoothed things over with Mama when I was fourteen and broke her favorite vase. No matter how busy he was, Daddy always made sure to be there for school programs, dance recitals, riding competitions and birthdays.” She lowered her voice. “The things that mattered.”
