What Lies Between (11 page)

I fell in behind him as he took the lead of our posse. We trekked along the path, orderly and single-file, stepping aside to give room to people coming back toward the car park. The air grew cooler as we trekked and I zipped my hoodie up to my neck. Ben stopped at a point where the car park was nearly out of sight, used a rock for a platform, and again addressed the group.

“I’m turning around here. Ellie will take you from here. Have fun.” He turned to me. “See you on the other side.”

“Right, see you soon,” I mumbled.

The clear sky and the plentiful number of other hikers calmed me. All I had to do was keep everyone together. I stopped at the curve in the ridge, nearly forgetting the group trailing behind me, struck quiet and still at the sweeping view—the jut of the massive ridge overhead, odd-shaped rock formations sticking up into the air, a perfectly cone-shaped hill below with a lochan at its base. Had I left the planet?

This place was odd—alien and mysterious . . . beautiful. Gerard’s choice was beginning to make more sense but why across the island near the Black Cuillin? We wouldn’t go out that far on this tour, but when I was ready I would need to go there on my own.

Footsteps approached, and I turned to see Todd. The others trailed farther back with Shayne at the end. No surprise.

“Todd, can you help me keep Shayne in sight?”

“No problem.”

Todd stayed close, chattering in detail about every ingredient and recipe for drinks he had invented and every big wave he had conquered. From his conversation, I gleaned his life revolved around bartending, surfing, and not much else but I couldn’t fault him for forming his life around what he loved. I admired it. His particular passions just didn’t interest me. And a fling guy at least had to be interesting.

Soon we reached a stream of water pouring down the side of the hill. I scanned the others’ shoes. What were they thinking? Except for Todd, they were better dressed for a trip to the mall than a tour of the Highlands.

“Todd, let’s make sure everyone gets across okay.”

“Right, mate.” He leaped across the chasm after me, grabbed my shoulder to steady himself, and knocked me off-balance on the narrow trail. I caught myself before falling into the rocky stream that was cutting a gash down the face of the slope.

“That includes me, Todd.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He gave a sheepish look and turned his attention to the others.

All crossed the stream safely, and we continued up and around the midpoint of the steep-sided hill. A more foreboding challenge lay in front of us—a precipitous ascent, covered in a thick coating of loose rocks called
scree
, if I remembered right. This must be the scramble Ben mentioned; he had a knack for understatement.

Having to scramble on hands and knees part of the way and frequently sliding backward, I made it only halfway up before a stitch in my side rewarded my effort. Digging my boots into the hill to hold myself in place, I took a quick survey of the others. Todd was making good progress. Li and Bill were managing on their own. Shayne and Karen were struggling. Shayne had taken off my wellies back at Faerie Glen and was sporting her sandals. Why did she have to be the worst kind of stubborn?

Karen lost ground and slid down several feet. Bill glanced back but kept climbing, not offering a hand to the woman he was going to be spending sixty-two years and however many months traveling with. I shook my head, a sigh escaping, and then turned my attention back to Shayne. She would never make it to the top. And she was my responsibility.

Yippee
.

“Todd, keep leading the group to the top.” Dropping my pack onto a boulder and turning my boots on an angle, I began my descent. The pitch of the slope threatened to throw me forward and an image of me rolling head over heels all the way to the bottom flashed through my mind.

“Shayne is slowing us down. Leave her. It’s not like she can get lost. She’ll catch up eventually,” Todd said.

“I’m responsible for her. Besides, leaving her is a lousy thing to do.”

Todd’s brow raised in surprise—he observed more than he let on—but no one was more surprised than me at my surge of protectiveness toward Shayne. My feelings rolled and softened here for reasons I couldn’t pinpoint, and I felt as strange as this island appeared.

Managing to get down to Bill in a half-controlled slide, I grabbed his arm to get his attention. “Bill, can you assist your wife, please? She needs help. I’m going to give Shayne a hand.” He rolled his eyes, and I leveled a hard glare, daring him to be a jerk; it seemed a comfortable position for him.

He stared at my set expression, let out a long sigh. “Fine.”

What was wrong with these people? If Bill didn’t want to help his wife on the side of this hill, what would it be like on all those adventures he bragged about having? Happy retirement, folks! And Todd didn’t want me to help Shayne or anyone. Maybe he truly was upset she hadn’t shown interest in him.

In the time it took to me to half-slide, half-climb down to Shayne, she had progressed a few feet and slid back down several times, tearing up her hands and knees. She couldn’t catch her breath. Bloody scrapes covered her palms. Her knees looked worse. She avoided my eyes and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket. No question she had to be hurting, but she didn’t utter a sound of complaint.

“How are you doing?” I said. “It’s a tough hill.”

“Yeah.” She still didn’t look up, her cheeks turning deep pink. “I’m all right. You go on. I’ll catch up.”

Stifling an exasperated sigh, I sat down beside her. To my surprise, my frustration wasn’t with Shayne, it was with myself. I wanted a reason to dismiss her and she had given me plenty. But I never liked it when someone dismissed me; as a kid I’d given a fair share of people excuses enough to write me off. I knew better than anyone the way people behaved didn’t always reveal the truth they were trying to tell.

“Ben didn’t exactly warn us we would have to deal with a hill like this,” I said, giving her a gentle, conciliatory smile. “Let’s sit here and catch our breath.”

We both looked out into the distance, across the sea, our labored breathing slowing down, quieting. 

Several minutes passed.

“I should have put on the wellies,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the distant water. “I’m sorry about dragging the group down. I can be a Texas-sized pain sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” I teased.

“I know, right?” She laughed and our eyes met in a silent truce.

I glanced at her shoes. “Those are awesome, but they are pretty much the worst pair of shoes for this terrain ever.”

“No kidding.” she laughed again, the sound soft and melodic, so different from her laughter in the van.

A smile took over my face. “There is no way I’m leaving you here. Forget that. I’ll grip in with my boots and you use me for leverage. We’ll go slow and steady.”

Tying my jacket around my waist, I handed one of the sleeves to her and she looped it around her wrist. Todd and the others watched our struggle for a few minutes then disappeared over the top. By the time we made it to the peak, we were both out of breath again.

“We’ll take a rest here, and if we don’t see Ben in a few minutes we’ll continue on,” I announced to the others.

There was Bill’s eye roll again. Todd looked perplexed as he eyed Shayne before turning his attention to me. Apparently not caring enough to comment, he shrugged and looked away. I pointed at a large rock a distance from the others and Shayne nodded. We both let out a sigh as we sank down on a reasonably flat spot.

When I caught my breath I plunged in, eager to know more of her story. “What brought you to the Highlands?”

She didn’t answer at first, searching my eyes for . . . ? After taking a long breath and letting it out, she said, “Back in Dallas I had a problem with someone from my squad. I don’t want to talk about it, but I needed to get out of that city. I couldn’t decide where to go, but it needed to be far away. I got this idea to put every country starting with an S, for my name, into a hat. I’d go to the place I pulled out. It was Scotland.”

“What if you didn’t want to go to the place you pulled out?”

“I didn’t care. My head was a mess. Picking a country out of the hat worked to get me on a plane to somewhere.”

Shayne’s candidness surprised me. There was more to her than the image she projected, but still . . .

“I wanted to see the Highlands because it’s different from everything in Dallas. There was no chance I’d rent a car here. Driving on the left . . . not gonna happen. This tour sounded like a good choice, and I figured if it was more expensive it would be nicer.” She looked up and caught my raised eyebrows. “Yeah, I know, expensive doesn’t mean better, but I figured there would be people I’m more used to. I didn’t put too much thought into any of this, but I did think I would be taking photos from the side of the van, not thrown out on trails like this. At least the hunky guide kind of makes up for these awful hikes, but”—she leaned in to share a secret—“I’m pretty sure he’s gay.”

“What? Why do you say that?”

“Because, you know, why not see what a Scottish guy is like in bed. You won’t believe this . . . he turned me down. And honey”—she grabbed my arm—“men don’t turn me down . . . unless they’re gay.” She stuck out her lips in an impressive pout.

I reviewed my first couple days at Glenbroch and Ben’s apparent obliviousness that the words and phrases he used sounded like come-ons—maybe because they weren’t. And to be fair, I’m not sure I’d turn her down if I were a guy.

“Well, you’re probably right. I mean, look at you. He’d have to be crazy. But all is not lost. I’m pretty sure Todd’s straight if you’re interested.”

“Surfer boy? Not my type.” She eyed Todd up and down and shivered in a gust of wind. “But I’m not interested in spending my nights alone up here. It’s too cold. Nobody said Scotland had freezing temperatures in August. I suppose he’ll have to do.” She drew in a deep breath, pushed herself up, readjusted her clothes, and sauntered off in his direction.

“Right,” I murmured, “it’s not
that
cold.”

I stared out at the horizon. Maybe Ben said no for some other reason. I had this silly wish that it had to do with me, but if he didn’t have a boyfriend, he probably had a girlfriend. Regardless, it wasn’t my business.

The expansive panorama demanded my attention. The sun-washed sea, held snug between Skye and its neighboring island, broke free beyond their borders and stretched out into the distance until it met the pale blue of the sky. I wished I had taken more photography classes in college. The bright reflection of the water kept blowing out my photos.

As if responding to an unheard command, much like the sheep that first day, we all put down our gadgets and became silent, rapt in one of those rare experiences when each person in a group of relative strangers is swept away by the same thing.

A movement in the distance broke my contemplative moment. Ben appeared, trudging around the edge of the hill. I gave him a double thumbs-up to indicate all was well and stood up to greet him as he drew near.

“You never made it to the meeting spot,” he said.

“What can I say? I suck as trail leader.” I met Shayne’s eyes and a knowing look passed between us.

Ben’s brows furrowed, his face filled with questions.

I laughed and moved farther away from the group.

He followed, pulling a bottle labeled
Irn Bru
from his pack. “Have you tried it?”

“No, but it looks awful.”

I sat down on a rare dung-free spot on the edge of the hill. Ben took a spot beside me.

“You’re missing out. This is great stuff. Scotland’s other national drink, second only to whisky.” He held out the bright orange soda. “Didn’t you say you’d try everything at least once?” he asked with a taunting smile. “Little known fact: Coca-Cola is the number one soft drink pretty much everywhere except Scotland. In our country, it’s Irn Bru. We Scots do things our way.”

I remembered the offhanded statement about trying everything at least once; Ben would be sure to hold me to it in all kinds of ways. “Hand it over.” I took the bottle and let a minuscule sip trickle into my mouth. Pure syrup. My blood sugar spiked just from the drops that fell on my tongue.

Handing it back, I clutched my throat, gagged, and rolled on the ground. “Poison,” I squeaked out.

Ben took a huge drink, peering at my writhing movements, his brow rumpling. “Is that necessary?”

The sudden, sobering realization I had been rolling around in sheep dung made me bolt upright. “You’re going to kill yourself with stuff like that, and—”

What he does is none of my business.

“And my smoking?” he finished my thought. “Aye, I knew right off it wouldn’t—” He turned away, leaving his sentence unfinished.

“Wouldn’t what?”

He acted as if I hadn’t spoken. “Ellie, I want to ask you, and you’re probably not going to care for the question, but I have to know.”

“Okay . . .” His tone and words were making me nervous.

“I’ve seen the way Todd looks at you, and you had such a great time with him the other night. It’s none of my business, but did anything happen between you and him?”

My mouth fell open, and I scooted around to face him. “What? No! A thousand times no! Wait a minute. You’re right, it isn’t any of your business.” I screwed up my courage, wanting his side of the story. He
had
brought it up. “Are you interested in him?”

“Him! Todd? Och, are you daft, woman?” he bellowed. “What would make you think that?”

“Shayne thinks you’re gay.”

“Because I didn’t go for what she was offering? That’s where you got this idea?” Ben lay back on the ground, laughing until tears rolled from the corners of his eyes. He eventually pushed himself back up, gasping for air. “You
are
daft if you can’t see . . .” His words faded into the ether.

That habit of not finishing sentences annoyed me. “See what?”

He shrugged. “Whoever, or whatever, has done this to you so you can’t or won’t see . . . it was a terrible thing. Do you not understand I have no interest in a casual hookup with anyone—man or woman?” His eyes were riveted on me.