Her friend’s list of things to see and do waited somewhere in her backpack stowed overhead, and the determined woman continued texting additional possibilities. Once they landed, Evie’s forced month of rest, relaxation, and rehabilitation in bonny Scotland began. A dogged sense of tolerating thirty days of boredom taunted her like the throbbing ache of a sore tooth.
A smattering of wispy white clouds skimmed across the shimmering blue lochs and verdant glens below. She didn’t see them. All-consuming guilt blinded her as she lamented handing her patients and all their procedures to a different surgeon. Her latest rant had caused her to fail those who trusted her most. She had betrayed them with her mishandling of righteous indignation. Finchcrest should’ve fired her. Her personnel file provided every justification. The worddifficultfilled its pages in all caps and red lettering.
Her heavy sigh fogged the window. From the change in the engine’s whine and her popping ears, their altitude shifted in preparation for landing. Once they touched down, it took less than an hour to claim her bags and pick up her rental. Instead of settling into the cottage, she decided to drive around. Why not start her Scottish adventure right away? After all, her hiking pack stood at the ready, stuffed far fuller than it should be. Airport security had balked some, but let her board when she showed her medical credentials. She wore her jeans and walking boots. What more did she need to start her dubious exploration of the Highlands?
She pulled the car over and searched on her phone for any nearby waterfalls. Maggie had forced an oath from her that she’d find one first thing. Her friend had insisted the sound of tumbling water would help her relax, but Evie had her doubts. Poor Maggie deserved better than a friend like her. Evie managed a grim smile as she checked for oncoming traffic. Exploring as soon as she stepped off the plane definitely counted as first thing. Maggie would be thrilled.
With her virtual list of waterfalls, a general idea of where to hike, and enough water, snacks, and emergency supplies to survive a solid month of any apocalypse the wilderness of the Scottish Highlands threw at her, she honked the horn for luck. Time to keep her word, visit a stream, and send some pictures to Maggie.
“Onward, ho,” she grumbled as she pulled out onto the road.
*
Evie savored thelast bite of the bacon and sausage sandwich she had purchased at a cozy little shop in Rosemarkie. She rarely indulged in such delicious greasiness, but this tasted the kind of wicked good that made you shiver. Self-control waning, she barely resisted the urge to lick any remains off the sandwich’s wax paper wrapping.
“How scrummy was that?” she announced to the surrounding woods. Also, how ironic? She lectured patients every day about avoiding too much fat.
“I shall walk it off,” she informed the birds overhead as they chittered about her hypocrisy. Shouldering her backpack in place, she trudged onward.
Quite pleased with the route she had chosen, she tromped through the area, enjoying the shade offered by the pleasant woods filled with beech, rowan, and oak. Maybe Maggie was right about Scotland being a proper place to relax. She laughed out loud at what her friend might think about her deciding she liked the country. Maggie would admit her for psychiatric evaluation.
A creature of some sort scurried deeper under the bushes alongside the trail. Another amused snort escaped her. Perhaps it was a woodland fairy. She shook her head at the silly thought. All that tasty grease from her lovely sandwich was going to her head.
As a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, she pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. No, she must never admit to Maggie or Finchcrest’s admins that perhaps this wasn’t such a dreadful punishment after all. They’d think her over the edge, for sure.
The steady thundering of rushing water up ahead pulled her forward. She checked her phone, but with the spotty signal, it took forever to load the map and reveal the location of the first set of falls. With it powered down to spare the battery, she zipped it into the side pocket of her backpack. A few pics of her woodland stroll had already been sent to Maggie, so her friend should be satisfied for a while.
She chose not to follow the path to the footbridge and endure more nauseating displays of affection from the couple up ahead. Instead, she veered off into the woods to enjoy a unique vantage point of the falls. After all, she wasn’t the average touristy hiker. She was here for intense therapy. The steady shushing of the cascading water dared her to risk getting closer. Moisture filled the air from the rising mist as the stream tumbled down to the pool below. She maneuvered closer, balancing on moss-covered boulders and shelves of limestone, finally reaching the point where all she heard was the water’s deafening song.
From her seat on the rocks, she drew up her knees and hugged them, watching as the pool swallowed up the tumbling water and spit out the spray. How long since she had sat this still and listened to nothing but her thoughts? Forever, really. She avoided the state of quiet solitude like the plague. Her mind kicked into overdrive, and too many memories reared their ugly heads when she sat still.
An insistent, pitiful mewling managed to break through the water’s hypnotic hold. She turned toward it, peering under ferns and bushes and scanning the primrose carpeted embankment. The feline cry grew louder, as if the tiny mite needed rescuing.
“Where are you, kitty?”
It answered, making her edge closer to the falls. She eyed the shelf of water-soaked rocks with apprehension, not relishing the idea of getting her feet or anything else soaked. Then she spotted the crying beastie. A black and gray tiger-striped kitten clung to a swaying branch kept in motion by the stream snagging hold of its tip. The mighty oak stretched across the water, yearning for the sunlight shining down into the pool.
“Bad life choice, cat.” Evie climbed higher. If she got close enough and coaxed the mite toward the body of the tree, she just might reach it. “Come this way. Here kitty. Come here, and I’ll help you.”
The cat flattened its ears, flipped its tail, and hissed.
“Really? Is that nice? I’m trying to help you here.” She sidled farther along the rock shelf that disappeared behind the tumbling water. “Come this way.” She wiggled her fingers, stretching to steady herself against the branch. “Come on, kitty. I promise to take you to a nice comfy cottage and feed you.” Surely, Gertrude stocked a bottle or two of cream at the cottage.
The small cat crept closer, then sat and glared at her.
“Now, see here, I can’t help you if you don’t work with me.” Evie wiggled her fingers along the limb, hoping to tempt the uncertain beast into pouncing close enough to be nabbed. She loved cats. Always had. But couldn’t foster one because of her long hours at the hospital. If she rescued this one, she’d care for it during her holiday, then find it a suitable home before heading back to London. “Come on, kitty. Come on,” she wheedled in a singsong voice.
The feline charged forward, leapt down to the stone ledge beside her, and shot behind the wall of water. Then it cut loose with a furious yowling.
“You cheeky little…” Evie stared after the cat. If the silly thing liked water that much, Godspeed to it. She crouched to work her way down from the ledge and head back to level ground, but then she heard it again. It carried on with louder pitiful crying as though realizing the error of its daredevil ways.
“Oh, bloody hell.” She couldn’t leave it. That pathetic sound would haunt her for days. With her pack propped on another ledge, she unzipped one of its multitude of pockets and yanked out the compact square of her folded, clear raincoat. She shrugged it on, pulled up the hood, and settled her pack back in place, snugging the straps tight around her shoulders.
“You better appreciate this,” she called out to the feline. “And if you scratch or bite me, we shall have words.” Thankfully, her hiking boots possessed extra-rugged tread. She prayed that also meant a better grip on wet rocks. Her face to the cliffside, she hugged the solid backdrop of earth and rock as she sidled behind the curtain of water. Her kind heart would be her undoing. Or so, nanny had told her many times a long time ago.
Halfway across the width of the watery tunnel, she pondered the error of keeping her pack on her back and facing the cliff. It was waterproof and had survived a stint with Doctors Without Borders, so it would be okay. But the full gear pack stretched from just below the top of her head down to her hips. Spray wouldn’t soak through it, but if the space narrowed anymore and the force of the water hit it, it might pull her backward off the ledge and send her tumbling. A sideways glance assured her the broad extension of the walkway remained the same. At least, she thought so. The misty half-light behind the falls distorted everything. With the louder drumming of the water, she no longer heard the cat, but it had to be up ahead. Where else could it go?
Her right foot slipped and shot off the ledge. She fumbled to regain her footing, grabbing hold of the cliffside and landing hard on one knee. The falls pounded across her heel, threatening to jerk her downward. Heart rate revving, stomach churning, her choice of that delectably fatty sandwich no longer seemed so wise. And the worst of it was, if she leaned either way to vomit, she’d lose her balance as well as her lunch.
