Page 29 of Soul

“When in Rome.” I giggle. “I mean, when in Ireland.” The attendant waits patiently, likely having dealt with American’s before. “Okay, and my guy here with a sweet tooth would like to have a variety of your cookies.”

“Biscuits.”

This time I’m confused. “No,” I point to the case of cookies. “Cookies. Say three dozen?”

“Make it four, Baby. You know how much I like them.”

“You mean biscuits,” the overly perky, now annoying, Irish woman says.

Just when I’m about to correct her again, Chase puts a hand on my shoulder. “Honey, biscuits are cookies to them.”

“Then what do they call a biscuit?”

“A scone.”

I snap my head back. “But that’s absurd.”

This time he shrugs. “Were not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.”

“Obviously not. I hope I can get the hang of this.” I cringe.

He places our coffee order then leads me to a small table.

The first bite into my scone makes it very clear why it needs the jam and whipped crème. It has absolutely no sugar in it. But with the jam and whipped crème, it’s heavenly. My vanilla latte on the other hand comes with a perfect amount of tasty, white foam that was made into a lovely leaf. I sip the liquid and moan around the cup. “I’m going to need another one of these.” I suck back some more of God’s sweet nectar.

Chase laughs and leans back, then slips on his shades. He has a blue polo on, a sweater over his shoulders and a pair of aviator sunglasses. Me, I’m wearing a long, army-green skirt, knee-high, brown leather boots and a crème, cable-knit sweater, compliments of my new wardrobe. Chase didn’t pack any clothing. He called Chloe, who was already in Europe, and had her stylist buy and ship over clothing. The house assistant removed tags and placed everything in the closest and dressers. So, technically, she knows where we are, but since she’s in Europe, and hasn’t been part of everything that’s happened, she has no reason to share. And Chase assures me that she’s not going to interfere.

“You look handsome,” I say pulling out my phone again. “Smile for me. I need a new background on my phone, and I want to remember you, right now.” He appeases me then decides he wants one of his own.

One of the café busboys walks up to us. “Would you like a photo together?”

I smile at him and move my chair closer to Chase’s. He pushes his glasses onto his head and gets closer to me. We lean toward one another, and the boy takes a photo then hands me back my phone. I look at the picture and notice how happy and relaxed we both are. I show him the photo. “That’s a keeper,” he shares.

“It is,” I agree. Once we finish breakfast, we continue our journey through the town of Bantry. Chase sees a camera shop at the same time that I see an antique shop. “I want to go in there,” I point over to the quaint looking store and start to pull away.

“You sure?” Chase’s eyes hold concern and maybe something else.

I caress his brow pushing aside the uncertainty that’s showing there. “You get us a camera so we can capture all this.” I point to the beautiful streets and vistas. “And I’ll check out the antique store. Perhaps I’ll see something we can add to our new home away from home?”

Chase cups my cheek. “I really like the sound of that.” Chase looks up and gestures with a hand. Out of nowhere Jack is by our side.

“Sir?”

He looks at me and tilts his head. “Gillian wants to go to that antique store while I get us a camera. Can you escort her please?”

“Of course.” He mumbles into his wrist, and then again, like a magic trick, the two men, who were apparently closer than I thought they were, appeared by our side. He directed one to stay on the street, and the other to go with Chase.

“Shouldn’t take long. I’ll meet you over there in fifteen or twenty minutes. Okay?” He leans in and kisses me softly.

“’Kay,” I look at him, the most handsome man I’ve ever known, and I’m going to marry him this week. In a few days really.

Without any concern or worry, I cross the street, Jack is quick on my heels as I enter the little shop. The smell of dust and flowers permeates the air. An old woman, with white hair piled up on her head in a bun, is sitting in a rocking chair knitting a sweater, one much like the one I’m wearing now.

“Go on ahead and look around, dearie. Maybe you’ll find something from the past that will enrich your future.”

I like that thought but didn’t tell her that. As I scope out the furniture and knick-knacks, I find a tapestry hidden half behind a large, scrollwork mirror. “Jack, can you help me pull this mirror back?” I ask. He lifts the mirror with little problem and shifts it aside. Staring me in the face is a seven by ten foot tapestry of the Celtic trinity knot. It’s blue and green just like my tattoo. “Oh my! “ I whisper and the woman looks up.

“Yep, will look really lovely in the master bedroom of that house you just bought.”

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