“Can you tell me how to get there?”
“You just give me a call, and I’ll take ya there. It’s not in walking distance of where you are staying,” he said with a smile.
“That would be wonderful, thank you,” she said, flashing him a smile in the rearview mirror.
“Aye, we’re almost there,” he announced as he turned onto a stone bridge that took them onto an even smaller one-lane road marked Old Military Road.
“That’s the River Shiel,” the driver announced as he pointedout the side window to the cold dark river that wound its way through the landscape like a serpent. “It’s an off-put of the loch.”
“It’s beautiful but looks very cold,” Nora said, looking out at its icy banks.
“Indeed, but quite nice in the summers.”
“I can believe that. It’s absolutely beautiful up this way.”
“That it is,” he said, flashing a proud smile at her in the rearview mirror.
Clusters of fir trees gathered on one side of the road, ascending the mountainside, while the loch dominated the entire right-side view from the car. The icy waters nestled in the valley, embraced by the surrounding mountains, sent a strange tingle creeping up her spine and a flurry of nerves fluttering in her belly. A sudden flashback to the night she went into the frozen lake at home came rushing back. Her body shivered at the memory of the cold, so piercing it felt like fire against her skin. Her shoulders curved inward involuntarily, and she crossed her arms, rubbing them as if trying to ward off the nonexistent chill.
Things had been so busy after the accident with preparing for the trip that she hadn’t had much time to process it all. Now, as they drove on the edge of the loch, her muscles tightened, and she dug her fingernails into the cloth back seats, waiting for the car to slip on a patch of ice and veer off into the water. As her nerves built, so did the weather, going from calm overcast to a thick white haze of snow.
Nora twisted the edge of her jacket in her hands and tried to focus on anything but the water. She turned away from the loch and pulled all of her attention to the other side of the road where ancient stone houses dotted the landscape. Sloping hills covered in fir trees made for their backdrop, with small stone walls bordering each of the neighboring properties. Her fingers loosened theirgrip on her jacket, and her shoulders began to relax as she focused on the scenery.
Soon the snow slowed along with her anxiety, and she turned her attention back toward the water. The same types of stone houses sat on the loch’s shores, their presence seemingly absorbed in the reflection of the loch’s mirror-like waters. Along its shores, Nora noticed a handful of rusty tin buildings and what she assumed were boathouses.
These houses appeared older than buildings in Edinburgh—much older. Some had been painted white over their old flagstones and were adorned with typical nautical blue shutters and teal doors, while others retained their dark gray fieldstone, weathered with age, likely witnessing more history than she could even fathom.
The anxiety she had felt just moments ago had all but faded away, and a new feeling washed over her as she gazed out over the Scottish landscape. It felt like the mountains held ancient memories that traveled on the wind down to the rocky shore of the loch. She had never felt a connection to a place until that very moment, as if something deep within her was stirring, something awakened by this magical place.
As they rounded another bend in the road, a small cluster of houses came into view. Just a few more feet down the road, four newer cabins perched atop a tiny embankment overlooking the water. Sitting in a long row, each had a small deck out front that faced the loch even though it was impossibly cold to sit out and enjoy the view this time of year. Tiny puffs of white smoke billowed from their chimneys, and the snow sat snug upon their roofs.Howcharming, she thought, a smile edging up the corners of her mouth.
“This is you,” the driver said as he pulled up in front of the tiny group of cabins.
“Oh, yes,” she said, still feeling in a daze of calm. “Thank you so much for the lift. How much do I owe you?” she asked, getting her bags together before opening the door to the cold.
“That’ll be forty quid.”
“I’m sorry, I never asked your name?” she said, handing him fifty quid.
“Stuart, Miss. Thanks.”
“Thank you so much for the ride, Stuart. I’m Nora. Do you have a card so I can call you when I need a lift to that well?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said, pulling a card from his visor and handing it to her.
“Thanks, Stuart,” she said. As she opened the door, a gust of wind almost slammed it shut again.
After removing her bags from the car, she waved Stuart off and made her way up a small flight of steps to a walkway that led down to the cabins. She pulled out her phone to retrieve the Airbnb reservation instructions.
“Cabin 5, last cabin on the walk, pin code 1667,” she read as she walked the long pathway to her quaint little bungalow. She counted the cabins as she went, but there were only four on the walk. She looked down a short set of stairs that led to an old stone cottage that sat snugly in a cove close to the water. It was much, much older than the newer tiny house-style cabins on the walkway. The number five was nailed to a post at the bottom of the steps. Even though she had thought she would be in one of the newer tiny cabins, she was thrilled with the more secluded spot of the small cottage.
Basking in the absolute beauty of her surroundings, she didn’t notice a man standing in front of the door to her cottage until shecame right up on him. Confused, she watched as he punched a code into the keypad.
“Um, excuse me, but I think you’re at the wrong cabin. I’m number five,” she said.
The man stopped and stood still as stone for what felt like an age before he spoke.
“No?” was all he said as he spun around.
