Echoes of Edinburgh

by JoAnn Durgin

  “I fear the vanilla crème brûlée did me in,” she said, patting her stomach as they left the restaurant. “I’m glad you helped me eat it, so I wasn’t such a single-minded glutton.”

  “You looked great wearing it.” Using the tip of his finger, Harrison had swiped a dollop of the dessert when it dropped on her arm. She liked sharing food with Harrison in spite of her clumsiness and penchant for spilling or dribbling. For some unknown reason, he seemed to find it charming.

  “Let’s work off some of those calories then.” He wiggled his brows. “Time for the Magic Gallery,” he said, affecting an ominous tone.

  For the next two hours, they ran around the popular attraction, chasing each other as they tried to catch the holographic images of sweets floating in the air and fish swimming on the floor. Bumping into each other, they laughed themselves silly and made exaggerated faces at their images in the Victorian bendy mirrors similar to the fun house mirrors at the 4-H county fair Shelby attended as a kid. They engaged in play with a family of three kids while the children’s mother looked on with one of those “knowing” expressions.

  Afterwards, they’d viewed the city skyline atop the rooftop. Standing behind her, Harrison rested his chin on her shoulder as he’d pointed out some other points of interest, including many of the buildings that earned Edinburgh the nickname Athens of the North.

  Acutely aware of him, her senses at full alert, Shelby smiled when he wrapped his arms around her from behind, hugging her close.

  “I love seeing the city through your eyes, Shelby love. Makes me appreciate its charms all over again,” he whispered, stealing a quick kiss on her cheek.

  For a brief time, they stopped in and marveled at the optical illusions and holograms at the Light Fantastic.

  “Let’s go to the Scotland Shop next and research the origin of our last names,” Harrison said as they sipped Irn-Bru in a small café mid-afternoon. “What say you?”

  “I say it sounds like great fun,” Shelby said. Taking a sip of the popular, bright orange soft drink containing a hint of iron, she laughed. “This tastes like bubblegum, and I have fizzies in my nose.” She scrunched her nose to prevent a threatening sneeze.

  As if it was the most natural thing in the world, Harrison stretched his hand across the table, curling his fingers around hers. He brought them to his lips and swept a light kiss over her knuckles. His romantic gestures were becoming more frequent, and she wasn’t resistant. She’d given up that idea eons ago.

  As they headed into the Scotland Shop, she twirled in a half-circle. “I’ll be dreaming in tartan tonight. I’ve never seen so much plaid in one place.” She grabbed Harrison’s hand and headed toward the men’s clothing department. “Come with me. It’s kilt time, Mr. Reed.”

  He halted and raised both hands. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

  “Why not?” she said. “You’d look absolutely fabulous in one. There’s something incredibly attractive about a man in a kilt, you know.” She wiggled her brows like he’d done earlier. “It’s very sexy.”

  “No, I don’t know, but you’re not going to catch me in a skirt.” He shook his head. “Not going to happen. That’s definitely where I draw the line.” He shot her a look. “No matter how sexy you think it is.”

  “Oh, stop being such a…man, Harry. Where’s your spirit of adventure? We can get you a pair of knee socks and one of those jaunty little tams or whatever to complete the outfit. It’ll be fabulous.” She slid one hand down to her hip. “Fess up. You already have a kilt, don’t you? You’re afraid it’s not manly to admit it.”

  “Right,” he said, chuckling, standing close enough to breathe her in. “My kilt’s hanging in my hall closet at home in Mobile, right above my rusty bagpipes.”

  An hour later, after they’d searched the origins of their surnames and shopped, Shelby pulled out her wallet to pay for the items she’d selected for Helen and some of the other ladies at the brokerage firm. She’d also picked out gifts for some of the longtime staff members at Harmony Lane and splurged on a sweater for herself before sneaking in a tartan tie for Harrison while he talked with a salesman. When she stepped away from the counter after paying for her purchases, her wallet dropped on the floor, opened to the photograph of her parents taken on their twentieth wedding anniversary. After retrieving the wallet, Harrison handed it to her, a frown clouding his features.

  “That’s Mama and Daddy,” she said, holding up the photo for him to see and wondering why she’d never shown it to him before.

  “Very nice.” His voice was quiet, contemplative.

  “You’ve been awfully quiet. Care to share?” she asked as they ran into the hotel later that evening to avoid the rain. The day had been full, and yet she was exhilarated. Always the wonderful companion, Harrison had entertained and teased during dinner as usual yet something was different about him. Not that she could “read” his emotions, but she already knew him well enough to recognize the subtle mannerisms and facial expressions that revealed he had something important on his mind.

  Shelby eyed him closely as they faced one another in the lobby. The unexpected rain shower had caught them unaware, and they were both damp. Harrison ran his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. She liked seeing him with those fabulous blond waves darkened by the rain. His cotton shirt clung to him in all the right places, revealing his taut, muscular chest, and Shelby tried not to stare. She could tell he was avoiding staring at her, too, with her skirt clinging to her legs and her blouse stuck to her skin. Self-conscious with a heightened self-awareness, Shelby lowered her gaze.

  A hotel staffer approached them with her arms piled high with fluffy white towels, offering one to each of them. With a murmured thank you, Shelby ran a towel quickly over her arms and legs before blotting her face. Across from her, Harrison mirrored her actions. She concentrated on admiring the equally well-developed muscles in his arms, the defined planes of his face, and the strength in his jaw, which was more pronounced with his hair slicked back from the rain.

  Leaning to one side, Shelby towel dried her hair, absorbing most of the water. No doubt, she resembled a drowned water rat. But something else entirely was in Harrison’s eyes. Something she’d seen in the eyes of other men, but none for whom she cared. Yet, with Harrison, it was so much more than mere physical attraction. He lowered his gaze first, and color tinged his cheeks. Cause and effect indeed.

  She should thank him for the lovely day and bid him good night. Then toss and turn all night, the image of him burned in her mind. As it was, she’d only kissed six men in her life, and the first three didn’t count. Adolescent puppy love. This man was settling in her heart. Oh, yes, love was definitely on the horizon, as surprising as it was wonderful. The word she’d dreaded only the night before. What was happening to her?

  The female staffer returned and collected their towels.

  “I need to let you get upstairs, Shelby love.” Harrison’s voice was low, husky. The intimacy of his gaze swept over her, from her hairline and across her face in a lazy path before finally resting on her mouth.

  Resisting the urge to move her fingers to her lips, she felt kissed without being touched. Harrison was uncannily adept at throwing off her equilibrium.

  He rested one palm on the side of her face and then trailed his fingers down the length of her jaw in a slow, sensual path. Leaning forward, he lightly touched his lips to hers. Sweet. Tender. Lingering.

  “Something’s bothering you,” she whispered. “Tell me tomorrow?”

  Harrison’s eyes softened as he pulled away and nodded. “Until tomorrow.”

  13

  Wednesday Noon, Day Five

  Robert joined them for lunch at Abernethy’s, and Nessie greeted Shelby with a smile and a hearty welcome that made her feel like a local. After Harrison told Robert how much she loved haggis, she stuffed a roll in his mouth. She tucked her thumb in the corner of his mouth to remove a crumb, and he caught it in a quick, impromptu kiss. With a huge smile,
Robert sat back in his chair and seemed to take inordinate satisfaction in all their teasing and unabashed flirting. The old matchmaker.

  After their lunch, the three of them joined the crowds on the far side of the Argyll Battery outside the castle for the firing of the One O’clock Gun. As a hush fell over the waiting crowd in anticipation of the loud boom, Shelby scooted closer to Harrison. Not missing her cue, he captured her hand, running his thumb back and forth over hers. Staring down at their joined hands, Shelby wondered if he realized the intimacy of his seemingly unconscious action. When the boom sounded, making her jump, he moved his arm around her.

  In all their adventures together, Harrison snapped photos—silly, serious, natural—and asked other tourists to take pictures of them together with his tiny camera. She loved how he made her laugh, adored the tiny lines around his expressive eyes when he smiled and the way they sparkled when she called him Harry. Loved the way his gaze fell on her lips right before he leaned close and kissed her.

  She’d learned a long time ago that most men wanted something from her, something she wasn’t willing to give, whether it be business-related favors or otherwise. But Harrison was as down-to-earth as any man, any person, she’d ever met. As much as anything, he’d already helped her to see her own life in a new light and glimpse the possibilities.

  And those possibilities seemed promising indeed. Even so, could she dare to hope their time in Edinburgh could extend beyond the boundaries of distance and separation?

  ****

  Enjoying coffee together after dinner at Monteiths, a hidden gem in the heart of Old Town, Harrison asked to see the photo of her parents. Shelby pulled it out of her wallet and handed it to him.

  After studying it for a moment, he returned it to her. “I’m not quite sure how to tell you this. Not sure what to think, actually.”

  Shelby raised a brow. “You’ve never been shy, Harry. Tell me. Please.” She suspected seeing this photo was what had triggered his preoccupation the day before.

  “Pops keeps a photo of a woman in his Bible along with a letter so faded you can’t read the postmark. Next to the newspaper clipping about the Purple Heart.”

  “Sounds like Robert’s Bible is a treasure trove of information about his life, the parts he likes to keep private,” she said.

  “So it would seem.” He ran his finger over the edge of the picture. “The woman in the photo is young, blonde, and very pretty.” Clearing his throat, Harrison lifted his gaze to hers. “You look like her, Shelby. Enough to know it’s not a coincidence. Enough like her to be family.”

  She’d taken a drink of her coffee. Bad timing. Sputtering, Shelby slapped her napkin over her mouth before lowering it a few seconds later. Heart pounding, she stared at him, wide-eyed. “Harry, are you saying you think my mom is...was...?”

  He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on hers.

  They said it in unison. “Kentucky Woman.”

  14

  Thursday Afternoon, Day Six

  “Where are you taking me today?” In her cotton floral skirt, pretty pink blouse, and sandals, Shelby managed to singlehandedly change Harrison’s mind about pink—a color he normally disliked.

  “You’re staring at me again. I thought I’d been very careful at lunch and didn’t spill anything on my clothes. Please don’t tell me I have a stain somewhere?” Shelby smoothed a hand over her skirt.

  Her question cut into his distracted thoughts. This time, she’d caught him red-handed. Her tone was coquettish, her smile coy, making it difficult to tear his eyes away from her. The woman moved like none other. When she fully relaxed, she giggled, and he loved that giggle, that smile.

  “I, uh,” he said, trying to cover his shame of gawking like a love struck adolescent. Something about Shelby brought out a social awkwardness he hadn’t experienced since his voice changed and he’d sprouted up four inches in the span of one year. While it was unexpected, it also made him feel much younger, less jaded. “The thing is, I’m kidnapping you.”

  “Sounds like fun, although kidnapping usually implies taking someone somewhere against their will.” Slinging her purse over one shoulder, Shelby bounced past him. “You don’t sound very convincing. Should I be scared?” She infused her voice with fake tremors and widened her eyes while forming an “O” with her lips.

  The difference between this woman and the woman he’d met in the Castlehill Gardens almost a week ago was extraordinary. Chuckling, Harrison followed her out of the hotel and then ushered her toward Robert’s car. After making sure she was tucked inside, he felt her eyes on him as he walked around the car and slid behind the wheel.

  “Do you drive on the wrong side of the road often?” she asked. “It’s strange enough to sit in the left passenger seat, but I’ll try to not be a front-seat driver.”

  “It helps if you try to think like a Brit. A prayer or two doesn’t hurt either.”

  “Then let’s do that.” Surprising him, Shelby grabbed his hand. Seemed she wanted to pray on the spot again, like she’d done for Pops in the park on Sunday afternoon. “Father, keep Harrison on the right—well, make that wrong—side of the road. The left side. Keep us safe and may our conversation and actions with others be pleasing unto You. Thank You for the new opportunities You bring our way each day.”

  “Thanks for praying for your kidnapper, but you should protest. At least a little.”

  “Fine. I’ll scream out the window a few times. Does that work for you?” Lowering the window, Shelby started to angle her head outside. “Getting ready to holler for help...”

  “Get back in here. I’m forcing you to go to Musselburgh for ice cream.” Starting the engine, he wasn’t about to pull the car away until he knew she’d be safe in her seat.

  “Anyone listening out there?” Shelby called, leaning farther outside. “Harrison Reed, handsome American nomad and...foundation person...is kidnapping me to go get ice cream.” Her smile was infectious as she raised up in the seat a little and cupped her hands over her mouth. “In a place called Muscles…burg.”

  “I mean it. Get back in here now,” he said, tugging on her arm, chuckling but starting to get a little nervous. “You’re nutty, woman. Yell at me a couple of times, not out the window.”

  Shelby dropped back down and secured her seatbelt. “I sure hope you’re a better driver than a kidnapper. I think I’ve found the one thing you don’t do so well.”

  Darting a glance her way, Harrison smirked as he started driving. “You’ve got to trust your kidnapper. Once you taste the ice cream at Luca’s, you’ll forgive me. What’s your favorite flavor? Pear?”

  “To be honest, I haven’t met an ice cream flavor I didn’t like, but you can’t go wrong with chocolate. That’s pretty much one of my mottos in life.”

  Considering how slender she was, he doubted she indulged in many sweets. Not that she didn’t have curves in all the right places. Harrison shifted in the seat and focused on keeping the car in the proper lane as he made a left turn. “In that case, I highly recommend Cheeky Chocolate or Fudgy-Wudgy.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. You’re actually the greatest kidnapper ever. What’s your favorite flavor?”

  “Succulent Strawberry is really good and Vivacious Vanilla is anything but boring. You’re in a great mood. How was the tour of the castle with Pops?”

  “Enlightening, but not about Kentucky Woman, if that’s what you’re thinking. He wore his official jacket with the royal insignia. It was impressive the way the staff treated him with such respect. I didn’t say anything about his position at the castle and neither did he.”

  “He probably assumes I told you or that it came up in conversation.” He shot her a grin. “Pops knows we’ve shared a lot.”

  “Yes, he told me he thinks ‘our fair-haired friend’ is good for me, as he termed it. Imagine that. He told me some very interesting things about the Scots, too. Like how patriotic they are and how they believe in the class system. Did you know they think Americans closet themselves
inside big houses and shut out other people?”

  Harrison nodded. “Some of them do. That’s a big reason why pubs and public houses are so important to the Scots. Friends can get together often. Actually, I think there’s something to that theory. Even though they sometimes joke about Americans, there’s no real animosity there.” He grinned. “They’re also impressed with intelligent conversation about their history and culture as well as advanced education.”

  She laughed. “Then I’m sure they must adore you. So, how far away is this divine ice cream place?” She half-turned toward him, distracting him. “My mouth’s already watering.”

  “Patience, my friend. You’re such a kid. Luca’s is only about five miles east of Edinburgh, so we’re almost there.”

  Shelby tapped her fingers in an impatient rhythm on the side of the window. “With all this traffic, we probably could have walked there faster.”

  “It’s all the people coming into town for the Jazz Festival,” he said, enjoying her enthusiasm. “I hope you’re game to pitch a blanket in the park tomorrow night? Do a little dancing under the stars?”

  “Sure. Sounds romantic. Count me in.”

  “Good answer.” That comment sent his pulse soaring. “I wanted to drive today so I could show you some of the sights: St. Andrew’s High Church, the Old Bridge—also known as the Roman Bridge—and the New Bridge which was actually built in 1806. There’s even a golf course where Mary Queen of Scots supposedly played.”

  She turned big eyes on him. “Are you making that up?”

  “Nope. I’m sure old Mary swung a pretty mean club.” He pointed out the front window. “See that building that looks like a castle?”

  “Lots of those around here, Harry, but if you mean the one straight ahead, yes.”

  “It’s called Old Tolbooth and survived a sacking by Henry the Eighth’s English army during the ‘Rough Wooing’ period back in the mid-1500s.”