Alex Dunnegin called the first Monday of every month to talk to the Gillespies, to Paige, and once to her. In November he had called as usual, then asked for her. New instructions. Winter was coming, and Edwina was to be sure Paige learned to ice skate and sled.
What a strange request, she thought. And a difficult one, she decided, since she had done neither. She and Paige found Mr. Gillespie in the barn.
“Well, we shall learn to skate. And we’re going sled- ding.” Her announcement caused Paige to jump up and down while screaming at the same time.
Edwina asked, “Where can we learn to ice skate?” This to Mr.Gillespie, who had covered his ears and motioned for Edwina to follow him.
“Lass, ye have not seen the grounds. There is a pond in the woods. The child has never seen it. Her father feared she might . . .” He couldn’t even say the words.
Well, swim she knew how to do. Her parents had been members of the local community center. Every Saturday they swam, played basketball, played all sorts of board games, and ate pizza.
“Are you sure we ought to show her now?” Edwina winced. “Is the pond frozen over hard?”
“Aye, tis, for I have been walking upon it meself,” the older man said and winked.
“Then, with the laird’s permission, we shall try it out. Have we skates aboot the place?” Edwina sighed, the Scottish accent more present.
“We have.”
“Tomorrow we will go,” she announced to her charge. It was late December. Christmas had come and gone. Edwina remembered the day well. Gifts piled high were sent from America. Paige had received everything she could ever want, except the thing she wanted most—her father.
And for the Gillespies, Mr. Dunnegin had sent two tickets to Boston to see their son. And two weeks off to make the trip. Rose had cried like a baby. She thought never to go to America again.
“Ye know it was Laird Dunnegin that brought us to Chicago early, else we couldna have come,” she said through tears.
“I didn’t know that, Rose.”
“Aye, tis the truth of it. He paid the extra funds and came right along with us. We were scared as little children.” She caught her husband’s eye.
“That was nice,” Edwina said, and meant it. Mr. Dunnegin was not all bluff and bother after all.
“Now open ye’re gift.” Rose had handed her a package.
Edwina had eyed her name on the small package the first day the gifts arrived by post. And she had wondered every night what the Scot could possibly know about her to send a gift. Then she struck her head with the heel of her hand. “Of course, he would ask Cecelia.”
It was a book. She turned the heavy volume over in her hand and read the gold writing on the front of the burgundy hard back. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. She already owned Emma and Sense and Sensibility. Indeed, he must have talked to her sister. Otherwise how could he possibly have known she was collecting the works of her favorite author?
Edwina wanted to cry. The gift was more personal than she cared to admit.
“Can I see?” Paige had snuggled up next to her, still in her red flannel pajamas.
“I will read it to you on your tenth birthday,” Edwina said happily.
“You will be here then?” Paige studied her face.
Did her eyes flinch? She hoped to be here. She did want to see the little girl grow up. How foolish, though, to have made such a statement. Always talking before you think, Edwina. She could promise nothing to the child. It was not in her hands.
She had changed. Her practical nature still existed, but the caterpillar had turned into a butterfly and above all things it wished to skip from place to place. These thoughts were born from somewhere deep inside. Edwina knew not where.
She made an announcement that Christmas morning. “I want to go to Edinburgh.”
“And ye shall, lass. Ye’ve waited long enough. Laird Dunnegin said ye were to go,” Rose said nodding.
“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.