The driver announced their arrival at Kyle of Lochalsh, a small coastal town that reminded her of a little place she visited in Maine each summer as a child. They drove through the small town center, where only a few shops sat, before pulling into the bus stop. Soon the passengers were filing off the bus.
Nora stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stepped into the aisle, coincidentally at the same time as the man behind her. They collided once again, and her bag dropped onto the floor. Her forgetfulness stung as she realized she hadn’t zippedit back up after eating the gingerbread man. To her dismay, the glass ornament from the market leaped out of the bag and landed on the bus floor. She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to look down and find it smashed into tiny pieces. Fortunately, the carpeted floor had kept it from shattering, but a long crack now marred its length. Frustrated, she shot the man a sharp look as she realized that her ornament now matched the one in the book.
“Excuse you!” Nora said, squinting her eyes in frustration.
“Maybe you should start watching where you are going. If I remember correctly, it was you who ran in front of me at the market as well,” he said in an arrogant voice that was like nails on a chalkboard.
“Your age must be showing because your memory seems to be warped,” Nora said as she gingerly tucked the ornament back in her bag and zipped it up before stomping off the bus, leaving him behind. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked out over the port. To her right, a vast loch stretched out framed by dusty blue mountains painted with snow in the distance.
A large bridge emerged through a thin layer of fog that clung to its massive pylons, while small boats dotted the cold gray water. The wind began to blow, rippling the once-calm waters that reflected the heavy overcast sky like a mirror. Nora found something calming, almost hypnotic, to the movement of the tiny ripples across the loch. She smiled, and just then, a stray sunbeam broke free from the clouds, casting a warm yellow glow over the loch.
Pulling herself away from the view, she swiftly retrieved her bags and headed up the street, making a conscious effort to put as much distance as possible between herself and the man from the market.
Scanning her surroundings, she was happy to find he haddisappeared after departing the bus. She began walking up the street toward the center of town. All the houses seemed to be painted white and made of rugged stone, the kind that could withstand the harsh winds that came off the loch during the winter months. Her bag in tow, she made her way onto a small sidewalk that wound its way up the street. Finding a bench under an awning for a local hardware store called JJ’s, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and googled a car service in the area. She found a company called Car Hire and dialed them up.
While she waited for her ride to arrive, she stopped at a small cafe nearby for some hot coffee and a restroom. She had decided not to use the facilities on the bus after an older man had spent nearly an hour in there. However, as soon as she opened the cafe door, she heard a familiar voice. There he was, like a bad penny and ordering an Americano of all things. Before the door even opened the entire way, she turned around and walked in the opposite direction down the street. The coffee and bathroom would just have to wait.
She made her way back to JJ’s and sat on the cold wooden bench as she waited for her ride to show up. She pulled out her cell phone and looked over the photos she had taken during the tour on the Royal Mile. It was the first time she had gone back and looked at them since that day. A warmth came over her as she scanned through them, realizing these were the memories she would one day add to an album like her grandmother’s. She landed on the photo she had recreated with the wine bottle and the book. There was something there she hadn’t noticed on the first inspection of the photo after Lesley had taken it. She zoomed in on the little red book. There, hovering just around its edges, was a bright blue glow. She zoomed back out, looking for the source of the reflection, but she couldn’t find it. Was it a trick ofthe light, or perhaps her flash had been on? She was just about to zoom back in on it when a small navy blue car pulled up and parked next to her, its engine idling as the driver hopped out and popped the trunk.
“You Ms. Cameron?” he asked, his accent much richer and thicker than the ones she had become used to in Edinburgh.
“That’s me,” she said, walking over and shoving her suitcase and bag into the trunk. She hopped into the backseat, glad to escape the bitter cold. Northern Scotland felt more like the arctic tundra with the bitter wind blowing off the sea.
“Where can I take ya?” the driver inquired.
“I need to get to Letterfearn. Forty-one Lochland, rental on the north end of the loch.”
“Aye, I know the place. I’ve taken loads of people to that cottage,” he assured her, pulling onto the snow-covered road that would lead her to the next destination on her adventure.
Chapter Eighteen
Letterfearn
Five minutes into the car ride, Nora was still trying to shake off the unpleasant encounter with the annoying man on the bus. She couldn’t fathom why, out of all the buses, she had to end up on one with him.What an unfortunate coincidence, she thought. His arrogant tone and complete rudeness had left her seething. While she had dealt with her fair share of unpleasant customers at the bakery, nothing compared to the confrontations she had with that man in the past two days.
Swallowing hard, she tried to quell her anxiousness over the whole situation. She refused to let that awful man ruin her beautiful ride to Letterfearn. As she bit back her annoyance, the sky grew an even darker shade of gray, and freezing rain began pelting the windshield of the car.
However, the landscape became so increasingly beautiful that her mind could think of little else. She was in complete awe of her surroundings. The world around her transformed into the land that fairy tales were made of. Towering mountains surrounded her in every direction, their majestic presence creating a breathtaking scene as the loch peeked in and out of view while they drove. Nora’s eyes lit up as she spotted a familiar landmark up ahead: Eilean Donan Castle, a sight she’d seen in travel guides and photos on Instagram. The grand old stone castle stood proudly on its tiny island, connected by an ornately arched stone bridge. A thin blanket of snow covered the ground around it, making the gray stone of the castle stand out in harsh contrast to the deep blue of the loch behind it. A delicate pattern of frost climbed the base of the castle walls, adding to its fairy-tale quality, as if kissed by the ice queen herself.
Nora remembered a little bit about the place from a travel pamphlet she had picked up at the airport. It was one of Scotland’s most iconic castles, steeped in history and known for its role in the Jacobite rebellions. The breathtaking scene tempted Nora to ask the driver to stop, but weariness from her travels and a pressing need for a bathroom held her back. Instead, she quickly pulled out her phone and snapped a photo as they drove by.
The driver continued down the A87, a narrow roadway lined with fieldstone walls and scattered with old stone houses on either side. They were now deep into the Scottish countryside. Its sloped valleys and rolling hills that led to towering mountains overlooking everything below reminded her of Vermont. No wonder so many Scots had settled in Vermont in the eighteenth century. It must have felt like home to them.
Under the thin layer of snow, Nora could discern rusty oranges and dark greens of the fading fall foliage, shrouded in winter’s frosty grip.
The next road they turned onto was so narrow it resembled more of a bike path than an actual road, and a wave of concern washed over her as she wondered what would happen if they encountered another car. Fortunately, the driver navigated the narrow road with ease, as though he knew every twist and turn like the back of his hand. Nora figured he must have grown up around here and trusted that his familiarity with the roads would guide them safely through the winding path.
“Are you from around these parts?” Nora inquired.
“Aye, I was born just a few miles down the road. Lived here my whole life,” he said.
“What is the best place to explore that’s not in a travel guide?” she asked.
“Aye, there are lots of beautiful places around here but one of my personal favorites is Tobar Mhoire.”
“What is Tobar Mhoire?” she asked, leaning toward the front seat, intrigued.
“It’s a magical well named after the Virgin Mary. A place of peace. It is said that the well’s waters have healing powers and that if you bring an offering to it and make a wish, it will come true. However, I’ve been wishin’ to win the lottery for years, and it hasn’t happened,” he chuckled.
