Edwina

by Patricia Strefling

Chapter 48

  The 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.

  “I’m going to run,” Paige declared, and after a nod from her teacher, she ran down the lane.

  “Not to the road,” Edwina cautioned.

  Several times the girl stopped, pointed wildly, and shouted, “Flowers, Miss Blair!” Then off she would go.

  If all went as scheduled, Mr. Dunnegin would return in four weeks. Paige had wanted to figure hours and minutes, but it would have been confusing for a five-year-old, so she suggested they go by days. A new color, black, was used to mark the x’s on the calendar, signifying that was how many days her father was late.

  The Gillespies were kneeling in the soft dirt freshened by the recent rains. They planted new seedlings and rearranged the flower beds, which brightened the front of the manor with new color. The spring newness shone in the sunlight; the blades of grass glistened, the pink, white, yellow, and purple pansies blew in the soft wind.

  They looked up when Paige shouted about something and waved. Edwina could see the love for the child in their eyes. Soon they would fly off to Boston again to see their son, compliments of their employer. He had promised to release them for a holiday as soon as he returned.

  Edwina longed to attend a small church somewhere nearby, but she could not leave until Mr. Dunnegin came back. She could make arrangements then since she would surely be allowed some days to do as she wished.

  Whatever business had kept him from his daughter’s Christmas and birthday had better be worth it, she thought grumpily one day.

  It was Saturday and rain had saturated everything. Even now the rain gushed over the windowpanes. She and Paige laid out a thousand-piece puzzle, all daisies and sunflowers. What confusion. She liked simpler puzzles, but the small female had declared they could do it together. And together they did. At least Edwina tried to concentrate on the slight variations in color.

  “That doesn’t go there,” the five-year-old voice cried out.

  Edwina shook her brains to waken them. A sort of melancholy had settled in. She missed her father, her sister, and even Spencer’s funny smile. How was the restaurant going? Were they getting along, the two entrepreneurs? Was Mr. Dunnegin even now in Chicago taking Cecelia to plays and pronouncing her beautiful?

  Musing, she excused herself. Paige barely noticed. She was too busy finding all the edge pieces.

  Time to write the finale. It had taken nearly two months to write her dream story. And for some odd reason, Edwina had neglected to finish the ending where the hero and heroine get together after all the crisscrosses and hardships. Perhaps it was the end of a dream she once dared to believe about herself.

  Knowing she would have no more scenes to visualize, no more conducting her characters at will, something—she couldn’t think what—a sort of conflict settled over her. The upshot of the whole writing thing had her stumped.

  Shaking off the sense of disparity, she returned to her novel. Should she make the ending sweet and fulfilling? Or a true to life it-ain’t-gonna-happen thing?

  Suddenly her pencil began to move across the page, and two hours later, her heart rising and falling with emotion, the story ended. Antoinette, the beautiful heroine, won the Scot’s heart with the drama due a romantic story. Misty- eyed, Edwina put her pencil down.

  The yellow pads lay stacked up before her. Story finished. Edwina wanted to cry. She had no idea why. Of course no one would know the story was about her beautiful sister and the handsome Scot. She had changed their names, but it was their story nonetheless.

  Conflicting emotions battled in her head like two swordsman. One the good guy, one the bad guy. Her sister deserved a good man. Edwina wanted one too and smiled at the thought of Spencer. He had kissed her and called her and even said he wanted to come with Cecelia should they ever be able to hire someone to watch over their new business venture. But that would take a year or more.

  But Edwina knew it couldn’t possibly last. She was too practical, Spencer too full of risk. Perhaps she should consider her present calling as her life’s work. There could not be a better reason to stay. Paige. Except in a few months her year would be up and Cecelia would take over.

  Chin resting in her hand, Edwina tapped her pencil on the pad. The dark-haired, dark-eyed girl had stolen parts of her heart she thought she owned. Like fear for the five-year- old’s safety. Knowing now the importance of a father and mother to a child. Caring about what man Paige would grow up and marry. And whether or not she would be there for her wedding.

  The phone jangled, skyrocketing her heartbeat instantly. She’d been daydreaming, and foolishly. She scolded herself as she untangled her feet from the chair and reached across the desk.

  “Spencer.” She smiled at the sound of his familiar voice. A blast from the past—and just in time, it seemed.

  “Yes, I’m doing well. How’s the restaurant?”

  “Really? I’m glad.”

  “What? Are you kidding? How can you afford to get away so soon?”

  “But Spencer, you just started the restaurant. Well, I guess it has been a few months.”

  “I know, it’s just that I’ve been busy. Paige requires a lot of energy.” She laughed lightly. “Yes, I know. She told me. Has Mr. Dunnegin proposed yet?”

  “Sorry, I was just asking. They went to South Carolina?”

  “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “So, what’s new with you?” She changed the topic, and Spencer didn’t seem to notice. “What? Two chefs already? It’s growing that fast?”

  “Whoa, you’ve paid your school bill off, eh? The struggling student finally receives his reward.”

  “Yep. I’m happy too, but we’re talking about your success, not mine.”

  “Well, anyway, congratulations.”

  “Yes. I plan on coming back. Some day.”

  “Well, what do you want me to say? I really don’t know when. Paige has school, Mr. Dunnegin has not returned yet, and well...” She didn’t want to talk about him right now.

  “Look, I need to get going. Thank you so much for calling. It’s good to hear your voice. Tell Cecelia I’ll call her tomorrow. Sunday rates are cheaper.”

  “Thanks. No, don’t you dare. Spencer, if you come here, you’d better let me know a month ahead of time,” she warned.

  “You are hopeless.” She laughed and the conversation ended with good-byes.

  Sunday arrived sunny and bright. During breakfast Paige pleaded her case until Edwina finally gave in.

  “Okay, okay, it’s a nice day. We’ll get the bike
s out.”

  “Aye, you are my favorite teacher.” She flailed her arms wildly and started running for the barn before Edwina could finish her breakfast.

  “See there now lassie, ye’ve got yerself in high waters.” Mr. Gillespie espied her over his half-glasses. “I’ve got to see to the lambs and then I’ll join the lass out front.”

  Mrs. Gillespie rolled her eyes and continued peeling the carrots. “We’ll be aboot having stew if I keep at it.” She wiped the countertop clean and pulled out the cabbage and celery to slice. “And an apple dumpling, if I’m left in me kitchen alone. . . .” She gave her man the evil eye.

  “I’m going on me way, missus.” He put on the old fedora and winking at his beloved, slipped out into the first summer- like day of the year.

  Edwina heard her name being called from afar. “I’d best answer the child before she breaks in here at full speed,” she told Mrs. Gillespie, who chuckled.

  “Ye’re the one who bought the bikes, lass.”

  “Not very farsighted am I?” She sprinted out the door, wiping her hands on her jeans. What a perfect day for a bike ride across the rolling hills of Scotland.

  A quick learner, Paige easily gained her balance, and Edwina sent her off on her first bike ride. The teacher was a bit shakier than her newly taught rider. Paige had the gift of strength and a definite athletic bent. Soon enough the two were riding up and down the long, serpentine lane. Edwina watched as she rode, the little red hat, a tam-o’-shanter she learned, perched upon her head. Mr. Dunnegin had given it to her the day he left. It had belonged to her mother.

  One of the finest things he had done, to Edwina’s way of thinking. She wondered what Paige’s mother looked like. There were no family pictures about the manor.

  The child was tireless. She shot past several times, once in a while nearly losing control. “You’ve just started. Slow down or you’re going to tip and hurt yourself. Then what would your father say?”

  “He’d have to come home then,” she stated stubbornly, also like her father.

  When they’d nearly reached the main road, Edwina forced her charge to stop and listen to her speech. “Now lass, see here, you are not to go out to the road. You hear?”

  “I hear.”

  “Look at me, Paige. I mean what I say. Cars cannot see little girls on their bikes. You are too small. Come, we’ll go back. You may ride up to that tree,” she pointed, “and no farther.”

  “Okay, that tree?”

  “Yes, that tree.” Edwina pointed again, confirming her directive.

  They started back and Edwina heard her name. Mrs. Gillespie was calling.

  She hurried along and left the bike leaning against the front porch and ran inside. “Paige, stay near the manor,” she called over her shoulder.

  “I will, Miss Blair.”

  “See that you do.” Edwina hurried to the kitchen. “What is it Mrs. Gillespie?”

  “The phone, dearie. From America.” She winked and walked outside, leaving Edwina to her call.

  Edwina’s heart fell to her feet. Was Mr. Dunnegin coming home?

  She answered, and Spencer began talking before she had time to think clearly. “What? You can’t come. I’m not ready. Vacation? You just started your business, Spencer, you can’t leave it.”

  “Well, if you want to...”

  From a far off distance, Edwina heard the sound of a car horn and then screeching. Something hit her hard in the stomach.

  “Paige!” she shouted and ran, dropping the phone.

  Certain she would see the little girl riding in the circle, her eyes darted around and then her heart sank. She wasn’t here. Screaming her name again and again, she knew deep in her heart something was wrong. She ran for the road.

  Cars had stopped. People gathered. “Oh God, please don’t let it be her. Please God, please,” she begged, but her heart felt the pain already. She knew.

  Running until the breath was out of her and still running, she cut through the gathering crowd of people and saw Paige lying on the concrete, face white and skin peeled from her chin. Then she saw her leg. Bones were sticking out.

  She gagged and turned away, squeezing her eyes shut. But she saw the same horrible scene. Paige’s leg. The bicycle lay crumpled near a bush. Paige had been on it. “Oh God, help her.”

  In that instant she took hold of herself. “Has anyone called for help?” she shouted.

  Several ayes called back. She knelt next to Paige and took her hand. It looked all right. She leaned over and whis- pered, “I’m here, Paige. Hold on, mommy’s going to help you.”

  “Mommy?” Her voice was weak.

  “Yes, mommy’s here. I won’t leave you. I promise. Remember you are loved, Paige. No matter what, remember you are loved.”

  “Okay,” came the word, barely audible.

  Edwina wanted to scream. And thought she had, but it was the strange sounding wail of the ambulance. Before she could do anything, she and Paige were flying toward the hospital.

  Everything seemed otherworldly. The medical people talking to Paige, to her. She spoke, but couldn’t remember what she said. She could only say, “God, please help her.” Over and over.

  Had the Gillespies heard anything? They needed to call Mr. Dunnegin. Now. He needed to be here. Oh God, she had bought the bikes and now this. . . .

  As soon as the gurney passed through the doors, Paige was taken away from her. She wrung her hands and found a nurse. “I need to call someone.”

  The nurse, attentive and gentle, led her to the phone. Edwina picked it up, but couldn’t remember the number. She dropped to the floor sobbing. Someone came along and took the phone from her hand, put it back, and persuaded her to sit down.

  “What can I do for ye?”

  “I need... I need to call Mr. Dunnegin,” she whimpered. “His little girl . . .oh God,” she sobbed again.

  Bent over and sick to her stomach, she wanted to vomit. Wanted to think this was a dream and surely she would wake up and Paige would say something smart to her.

  “Lass, do ye know the number ye need to call? I’ll do it for ye. Calm yourself and think.” The gentle words reached her wretched brain.

  “Yes... I must... think. It’s . . .” She gave the attendant the number and was handed the phone.

  “Mrs. Gillespie,” she broke down. “It’s Paige. She’s... she’s been hit by a car. Call her father.” She wanted to shout.

  She heard the woman’s sharp intake of breath. “Lass, I’ll call him, and we’ll come.”

  Edwina handed the phone back and put her hands over her face. They would be here, but how was she going to look them in the eye? She had not been careful and Paige had ridden off all alone while she was on the phone talking. She should have called them to come and watch Paige. Now it was too late.

  Alone and terrified, she prayed. Her body was heavy with sorrow. Terrible thoughts stabbed at her heart and mind. Would Paige be all right? She wished someone would come and tell her.

  What if... No, she would not think it and asked God over and over to spare Paige’s life. She would do whatever He wanted, if only He would spare the little girl’s life. She felt someone’s presence and opened her eyes. Two white shoes. Doctor’s shoes. She couldn’t look up. If she did, she might see . . .

  “Are ye the child’s mother?”

  “Yes. No. Yes, I am.” Edwina lifted her eyes. She was the child’s mother... at least for now.

  “You must not show the wee lass that you are worried.” The man took her arm and lifted her. “Both legs are broken, one more severely, and we’ll be watching for signs of internal injuries.”

  Feet like bricks, she walked with him. The man stopped at the door. “Wipe your eyes, she needs you to let her know she’ll be all right. She’s afraid.”

  Edwina couldn’t help it. She sobbed, her forehead against the wall, then took several deep breaths and tried to calm herself. Panic rose up inside her.

  A familiar voice sounded from far away. “Wher
e is the wee lass?”

  She ran into Mrs. Gillespie’s arms. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. . . .”

  “Calm yourself, child. There’s nothing to be done aboot it now. Hold yerself up now and do yer duty,” she ordered.

  Edwina did. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and allowed Rose Gillespie to take charge of her. “Now the good doctor says the lass is needin’ ye. Go in and let her know she’ll be all aboot the manor in no time. Go on wi’ ye.”

  The door opened slowly, and Edwina nearly lost her nerve. She couldn’t let Paige down, not now. Swallowing hard, she followed the doctor and found herself next to the bed. Looking down at Paige’s beautiful dark hair splayed on the pillow, her face bruised, chin scraped... she would not allow her eyes to look at her legs. Thankfully, they were covered with a sheet.

  “Here she is.” The doctor sounded confident as he looked to her.

  “I’m here, Paige. I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

  “Mommy?”

  “Yes, your mommy’s here.” Edwina saw her try to lift her eyelids.

  “She’s been given something to relax her. We’ll need to set the legs later, when the swelling goes down. Is her father on the way?” he whispered.

  “Yes, I think so,” Had Mrs. Gillespie called?

  Paige would not be left alone. She had called her mommy, and Edwina had answered to it. She pulled up a chair.

  Head in hands, she prayed. God knew what to do. For once in her life, she was totally helpless.