What Lies Between (10 page)

What just happened?

I had no idea, but it stole my breath clean away from my body. I leaned against the pool table, gathered myself, ambled around the table, and then lined up my shot. The ten-ball mercifully slid into the side pocket. I breathed slow and steady, trying to look confident, as if the shot had been inevitable.

Everything is fine and isn’t spinning out of my control.

There was more going on than billiards; I wanted to prove, mostly to myself, that I could handle it here and win, whether it was a game of pool or my bid for Glenbroch . . . or the protection of my heart.

My advantage turned out to be Shayne herself. Men kept buying her drinks, and she kept drinking them. Her aim grew worse and worse, and Todd and I had plenty of chances to clean up the table. Shayne cozied up to Ben in between shots; I don’t know if it affected his focus or not, but he didn’t play well, and his face reflected frustration.

Smug from our fourth win and with Todd in tow, I sidled up to Ben and Shayne.

“We’ve decided to put you both out of your misery and call it a night,” I said, my arm looped through Todd’s.

Todd leaned over and spoke in my ear, “Let’s have another drink.” His action no doubt resembled an intimate whisper.

Ben’s eyes fixed on mine, his jaw set hard, mouth pressed tightly shut. He was obviously trying to mask his feelings, but he was making a lousy job of it. Still, as obvious as his emotions were, he clearly had considerable practice not saying what was on his mind.

Shayne broke the drunken stare she’d been giving me, then turned and landed a sloppy kiss on Ben’s mouth. I feigned disinterest, arched my brows in amusement, turned on my heels, and led Todd to a table. I looked up to see that Ben had planted himself at the bar and was busy chatting up the barmaid. When he left a few minutes later, Shayne followed.

Putting the obvious together, I vowed to lighten up and cut any of these feelings for Ben off at the knees. He was comfortable in ways I seldom experienced and uncomfortable in other ways—what I had felt earlier, what lay between us, refused to be explained away as mere attraction. I could better understand what it wasn’t than what it was; my mind didn’t know how to make sense of it.

“Todd, I’m heading out.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No thanks, I want to walk by myself.”

“Okay, no problem.” He was already scanning the room for other prospects.

I liked to think I was easy come, easy go, flitting lightly across everything like Todd.
Not true
. Keeping my feelings under control and hidden never came easy. If I didn’t want complications—and I didn’t—why wouldn’t I focus my attention on Todd?

As I made my way to the sidewalk leading across the village to the guesthouse, a familiar flirty laugh caught my attention. Shayne’s silhouette hovered near Ben’s, and Ben was leaning against the building. Was that the glow of a cigarette in his hand? He smoked? I reminded myself I didn’t know him at all, no matter how nice it was hanging out with him. I needed to keep feeding myself cold, objective reality.

The pub’s light shone on the sides of their faces as they turned in my direction. Shayne stood close to Ben, her face practically pasted against his. Even though I suspected they’d left the pub to hook up, it hit like a glass of ice water in my face. Shayne’s voice carried in the quiet island night, upsetting me more than it should. No need to ruin a beautiful night letting unwanted feelings worm their way in where they didn’t belong.

The nearly full moon shone off the water and I made my way to the edge by its light. I found a flat rock and plunked myself down on it, pulling my knees up and resting my head on them. The water of the bay lapped softly at the rock’s base, the repetitive rush, splash, and receding quiet slowly dissolving my confused and troubled thoughts while the color of the night soothed my frustration. I was used to pitch black midnights, but this far northern horizon glowed. Translucence infused the dark indigo overhead, which graduated in an ombre pattern to orange-tinged pale blue where the sky met the sea.

The magic of this northern night didn’t disappear or run away because I hadn’t done the smartest thing every single minute of every day. It showed its beauty to me; it did to anyone, no discrimination, no judgment. It didn’t pay any mind to whether I deemed it worthwhile or worthless, breathtaking or ordinary. Could I ever be that comfortable in my own skin?

The cold penetrated my thin jacket, reminding me to invest in heavier kit soon. Heading back to the B&B, I got ready for bed. Sleep eluded me and I lay staring out the window. I could succeed at talking myself in or out of any feeling if I worked at it long enough, but it wouldn’t change the truth: Ben MacIver, like Glenbroch, had cracked open my heart. And I feared there was not a thing in the world that would close it safe and tight again.

6

_I
woke early—in truth had scarcely slept—and arrived at the van before anyone else. Glancing around at the others as they gathered in, we all looked haggard and a bit motley, and that was being generous.

Ben appeared to be the only one reasonably awake. He expertly navigated the island road, occasionally stopping to let white sheep with black faces meander across. From their looks they were relatives of the Sheep King, or Brodie; I would call him the name my grandmother gave him. Maybe being on a first-name basis would soften him up over time.

The late night we all had and our early morning departure left us gazing like stoners at the rock-studded landscape. I began to see animal shapes and human faces in the hills, the rocks, the curves of the road. The strangeness of the island mesmerized me until the crackle of the speakers jolted me alert and woke up those who had fallen asleep.

“The place we are heading to may prove to be the highlight of your trip,” Ben said. “There is nothing like it anywhere else.”

He pulled the van to a stop and turned to address us. “The wee people live here in the Faerie Glen and this ground is sacred to them. You need to take it seriously. Cross the faeries and you’ll ensure a terrible fate for yourself.” Ben flashed a wicked grin. “And don’t touch the tree on the ground just there. If you do, you’ll be followed by bad luck for the rest of your life.”

Bill turned toward Li and me, rolling his eyes, before turning partway back to the front and producing a bright smile. “Do you believe that, Ben, or is it tourist fare?”

“Take it lightly at your own risk,” Ben replied, his patented get-out-of-jail-free smile gracing his face. “You have time to create your own circle from stones, have a wee dance in it, and invite the faeries to join in. You never know, they might come out of hiding and join you.”

Bill laughed. “I don’t think I’ll be dancing, but the circles interest me.”

Li touched Bill’s arm to get his attention; his body blocked the van’s door and our way out.

“On you go. We have an hour here,” Ben said.

“Ben, hon, can I lean on you to get up this tiny hill here? I didn’t think and brought the worst shoes,” Shayne said.

I stared at her feet, trying to guess her size. “Maybe I can help,” I said sweetly. “I have a pair of wellies in the back. I’m betting they’ll fit.”

Her eyes bore into me, a saccharine smile finding its way to her face. “Well, thank you. That’s kind of you, but I’m fine.”

“It’s no trouble. You need decent shoes . . . obviously.”

I opened the rear of the van and pulled the rubber boots out of the plastic sack. Shayne snatched them from my hands, pretending to struggle getting them on. I glimpsed her size on the shoe she took off. The wellies were a size too big, not too small.

“I don’t think these are going to fit,” she moaned with false disappointment and held the boots out to me.

“Oh my goodness, Shayne, are you a size ten?” My face hurt from my overstretched fake smile. “I could have sworn your feet were smaller.”

“I am most definitely not a size ten.” Her eyes narrowed with indignation, and she lowered her voice to a hiss that no one could hear but me. “I’m an eight.”

I amped up the volume of my voice. “Well that’s fantastic! These boots are the equivalent of a US size nine. Maybe something is stuck in the toe, but they should be big enough. In fact, I pulled a pair of thick socks out of my pack because I thought your feet were wee things,” I said, feigning a Scottish accent for some inexplicable reason, “but seeing as they’re not, you won’t be needing them.”

Shayne’s cheeks flushed from the anger practically steaming out of her oversized hair. “I’m sure I can make these work.”

She teetered on one leg to pull the boot on her other foot, and my hand itched to push her shoulder oh so slightly and watch her topple over. I resisted.

“How lucky for you I had these boots! They fit you fine. You’ll be able to make it around on your own today.”

She scowled at me, her eyes warning I’d better be careful or I’d find a knife etched with her claw marks sticking out of my back.

Disregarding Ben’s admonition not to touch it, Todd headed straight for the fallen tree and tossed himself down on its trunk, defying the curse.

“Hey Ellie, take my picture,” Todd hollered and held out his camera.

“No way am I getting near that tree.” I had no desire to tempt fate or the curse; this place was weird and anything was possible.

I headed past a crumbling stone wall and followed a well-worn path around the back of the largest hill and upward to its pinnacle. I squeezed my body between a set of close rocks to reach its highest point.

“Wow . . .” I had chalked up Ben’s description to exaggeration, but if anything, his buildup was understated. I could see in all directions. And what I could see was odd and, yes, magical.

A precise miniature of the vast Highlands lay before me, with a tiny lochan at the foot of pointed hills draped with plush, green ground cover; the ripples running around their sides resembled the tiers in skirts of old-fashioned ball gowns. Curvy, minuscule valleys flowed between the hills—tiny glens. Wee Scottish fairies
could
live here. I found it strange, beautiful rather than weird, and it quieted my soul. Irritation drained from my body and my pettiness faded.

Stone circles of all sizes and names that people had spelled with the plentiful white rocks filled the tiny valleys. This place was a natural phenomenon, Ben had said, but it looked too perfect to be natural.

I lay back on my jacket, arms tucked behind my head. The day had warmed up and the wind was almost nonexistent. I could have lain there for hours, but it wasn’t long until the nearby voices grew distant. I cracked open one eye. The others were far below and nearly back to the van. Climbing to my feet, I snapped a couple of photos and scrambled down the hill.

Ben took the road around the northern edge of Skye, and my attention lost itself in the blues and aquas of the sea, the tiny houses settled in spots of pastured land, and the sheep munching on grass at the edge of the road. It was lovely, but
why
had Gerard chosen to be laid to rest on this island rather than at Glenbroch?

Soon we turned off the main road and headed up a narrow single-track with tight switchbacks. As the road straightened out, Ben pulled into a parking area and we all piled out.

“This area, the Quiraing, is part of the Trotternish Peninsula. It’s what is known as a landslip,” Ben said. “Originally I was going to take you a few minutes up the side here, but Li and Todd requested a longer hike. Ellie will lead you part of the way. I’ll drive the van back to the main road, walk up the other side to meet you, and we’ll make our way back to the van. Keep up a good pace, stay together, and the first and last person need to stay in sight of one another. This is an easy hike—a walk more like, with only one scramble. Any questions?”

No one spoke.

“Great! Grab a couple of photos and we’ll get going,” Ben said to the group, and then turned to me. “Ellie, I need to talk to you.”

Planting my hands on my hips in defiance, I was far from convinced I should lead this group anywhere. “Exactly how wise is it to have me leading this group on a hike I’ve never been on myself?”

“This is a simple walk. It’s safe. Kids do it all the time. And many tourists go on their own and the guides stay back at the vehicles. You can’t get lost.”

I tried to sound disgruntled at being put on the spot, but I was excited to have an adventure. “Why do you need to park the van on the other side?”

“Because it will take too much time to have everyone walk all the way across and back.” He glanced over at the group. “And I’m not sure every person is up for that long a hike. I’ll need to drive the van to the other side.”

“That makes sense. You’re sure it’s not a big deal?”

“There’s a burn and a couple of inclines but no cliffs or steep edges. You’ll be fine.”

“I still think you should have talked to me before announcing it.”

“You’re right.”

“You owe me.” My eyes fixed on his.

He leaned near. “I don’t mind being indebted to you.”

The look in his eyes made me forget where I was. I swallowed and cleared my throat.

“Is that a map?”

“Right. I’ve drawn a wee map here to show you where I’ll meet up with you. I’ll take you this far.” He pointed at where we were on the map and a spot not far ahead, and then traced his finger along the route. “Follow on, staying on the path on the side of this hill and I’ll catch up with you in about an hour.”

“People are going to want to take pictures. I will have to stop.”

“Of course. Take a couple of five-minute photo stops, and we’ll break for longer where we’ll all meet up.” He folded up the map, handed it to me. “If you get there first, wait for me. Don’t rush. It’s not a competition.” His voice grew serious. “Keep them in your sight.”

“Don’t worry, mate. I’ll bring your wee flock safely back to you.” I mangled my attempt at mocking his accent.

He shook his head in amusement and turned toward the group. “Okay, everyone, let’s get started.”