Chapter Fifty
Amelia
“I still can’t believe you walked like forty miles—including over a goddamn mountain—with a sprained knee. For me. I…don’t even know what to say to that.”
It was a few days after Carrie woke up. I was sitting in the uncomfortable chair by her bed. My laptop was on a tray between us, and I was showing her the photos from the trek. Unlike most people looking at someone else’s vacation photos, where they click through pretty quickly with an occasional comment or question, Carrie was looking at each one individually, as if she could absorb Skye through the screen.
The nurses had helped her bathe, and she had on pajamas with little sheep on them under a purple robe. Her blonde hair was in a long braid draped over her shoulder. Even with dark circles under her eyes and little lines of pain around her mouth, she looked beautiful.
And she would be okay.
I took her hand. “I couldn’t let you down, Carrie. Not after… Can you forgive me?”
She tore her eyes from a photo of the sea stacks at Rubha Hunish. She cocked her head to the side. “For what?”
“For this!” I said, gesturing to the monitors, the bandages, the remains of the shitty hospital food on the cart. “For nearly getting you killed,” I said, my voice breaking. “Over a stupid argument. Over a stupid boy who meant nothing.” I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle a sob.
She tugged my hand from my face and held it tight. “Look at me.”
I looked at the beloved face that was as familiar to me as my own. She brushed away my tears with her other hand. “It was an accident, Mee. There’s nothing to forgive. Besides,” she added with a grin, “it got your ass out on the Skye Trail. And maybe that means you’ll go hiking with me when this stupid leg gets better?”
“Not only that, we’re going to do the goddamn Skye Trail, okay?”
“You’d go through it all again?”
“In a New York minute. Pinky swear.”
“Pinky swear,” she said, locking her pinky with mine. She turned back to the photos, meticulously scrolling through each one.
“Tell me about Skye,” she said a little while later. “Your photos are fucking incredible, but as amazing as they are, I know it’s not the same as being there.”
She had no idea. “No, it isn’t. Where should I start?”
“Tell me about this picture, this moment,” she said, gesturing to the computer screen. “Close your eyes, and picture it. And then tell me what you see and how it made you feel.”
I glanced at the photo. It was from the Trotternish Ridge, just after the rain. I closed my eyes. “It’s the second day of the trek, and we’re on the Trotternish Ridge—nearly eighteen miles of summit after summit. It’s still morning, but everything already hurts. My shoulders and back are aching from my heavy pack, and my legs are just screaming—thighs, calves, everything. I’m wondering how the hell I’m going to get through the day.
“We just ascended our second peak, Beinn Edra, after a heavy downpour. I’d lost my balance in the mud and would have ended up on my face if Rory hadn’t caught me.”
I’m breathless, speechless. My hands are flat against his chest. His heart pounds beneath my palms, steady at first and then faster. I stare into his gray-green eyes, the color of the sea in the rain.
“Mee?”
I blinked, the vision dissolving. Carrie was looking at me, one eyebrow arched. “Sorry. Got lost for a minute there.”
“You were on Beinn Edra.”
“Right.” I closed my eyes again. “I’m standing atop Beinn Edra. The rain has stopped, but the sky is still this threatening blue-gray color. The sunlight has found its way through the clouds, and everything has this strange glow. There are mountains to my left and my right, stretching as far as I can see. The sea lies before me, far below, and an eagle soars up from the ridge.
“I feel like I’ve stepped into another world, and I’ve left everything behind. My pain, my worry, my fear—they’ve all faded away. I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of rain, of grass, of dirt. I feel the call of the land in my blood, in my soul. And I don’t want to leave. Don’t make me leave,” I whispered.
I heard a sniffle, and opened my damp eyes to see Carrie wiping away tears. Oh no! I reached for her—not sure what I was going to do, exactly, but needing to do something. “Are you okay? Should I get a nurse?”
She waved away my hand. “No, dingbat, I’m fine. I’m just—I’ve never heard you speak like that before. About anything. I’m so glad you got to experience that.”
I jumped up and looked down at her. “How can you be glad? It should have been you, walking up those mountains, feeling the rain on your face, breathing that air. But because of me, you were lying here, broken and in pain, while I was in that beautiful place, seeing those sights, falling in—” Love. I sank into the chair once more. “Because of me, you could have died.”
“But I didn’t! Look, it happened, it sucked, and it’s over. Yes, I’m in some pain, and yes, I’m a little bit broken. But I’m going to be fine, and you’re going to stop beating yourself up about it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“You’re such a bad liar. I just thought of a way you can make it up to me, though.”
The speculative gleam in her eyes gave me a moment’s pause, but I would do anything to make things right. “Name it.”
“I want to hear about the man you’re in love with.”
“What?”
“You’ve told me about the glorious scenery, and you’ve told me about the others in the group, including cute and charming Tommy, who I’d like to hear more about later. But you haven’t said anything about Rory, only that he helped you finish the trek. Until just now, when you said he caught you when you would have fallen, and you got this faraway look in your eyes. I assume he’s the guy you were talking about when I woke up, the one you spoke of while I was in the coma.”
I gaped at her. “Wait, you heard that?”
She nodded. “Mostly just voices, but every now and then a few things came in clearer than others. That was one of them. So, how come you haven’t told me about him yet?”
“I…there hasn’t been time, between you needing to rest and your various tests and doctors and visits from people. Since you haven’t said anything, I assumed you didn’t remember from when you were just waking up.”
She raised her eyebrows. “And in the days since then?”
I got to my feet again, unable to sit still. “I didn’t know what to say! Hey Carrie, so I took your place on this trek because you were in a coma from the accident I caused. And not only was it a spectacular, life-changing experience, I also met this amazing, beautiful guy who taught me things about myself I never knew, who made my body sing, and who I’m completely in love with?”
“It’s a start.”
She awkwardly scooted over on the bed and patted the mattress beside her. I sat down, careful not to jostle her. “Now, talk. I want to know everything.”
“I don’t even know where to begin.”
“How about with what he looks like.”
“Oh, you’d love him, Ree. Longish, sorta curlyish, dark red hair, gray-green eyes. He reminds me of the guy who played Robb Stark on Game of Thrones.”
“Holy crap.” We’d spent many Sunday nights drooling over that actor, so I knew she’d appreciate the comparison.
“Yeah.”
“I haven’t seen a pic of him yet, have I?”
“I don’t think we got far enough for there to be a good one.” I clicked ahead in the photos to one of him standing on one of the peaks of the Trotternish Ridge, looking out into the distance. I’d taken it kind of sneakily. “And this one.” It was the selfie we took on the bridge at Sligachan.
“Holy crap,” she said again. “Tell me everything. No detail is too small.”
I told her everything, from his condescending attitude at the beginning, to his freak-out on Sgùrr a’ Mhadaidh Ruaidh, to his nightmare and the kiss, to his offer to help me complete the trek, and all our adventures since then.
When I finished, she stared at me. “Why the hell did you leave him?” she asked, almost angrily. “You love him, and he loves you. Why didn’t you stay there?”
I shook my head. “How could I, Ree? You were in a goddamn coma from an accident that I caused! I needed to be back here, with you. And our jobs in Miami—I leave in two weeks to go look for an apartment for us. How could I have stayed there?” I looked down. “Besides, I don’t know if he loves me.”
“Of course he does.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I just sat here and listened to your play-by-play of that entire week. There’s not even the slightest question in my mind that he loves you just as much as you love him.”
“He never said he did.”
“Did you ever say it to him?”
“No,” I whispered. “I wanted to, so many times. But I couldn’t. What would be the point? He’s there, and I’m here.”
“That’s probably why he didn’t say it, either. There has to be some way to make this work.”
“My focus right now is on you. We need to get you back on your feet and get on with our move to Miami.”
I said the words, and meant them. But while I was thrilled beyond anything that Carrie was awake and recovering, and didn’t hate me, I still felt hollow inside. Because a piece of my soul was three thousand miles away, in the Western Highlands of Scotland.
…
Over the next few days, Carrie grew stronger. She was out of bed as much as possible. I would wheel her around the hospital or out into the garden for some fresh air, and she’d begun some light rehab on her arm.
I was doing some PT of my own, but walking on the treadmill in the noisy, smelly gym was no comparison to hiking a trail and breathing the fresh air, surrounded by mountains and lochs.
I was getting more and more depressed, in spite of Carrie’s recovery, in spite of the upcoming move to Miami. I just missed Rory. And when I spoke about him to Carrie, I kept hearing her voice in my head: “Why the hell did you leave a man like that behind? You love him and he loves you. Why didn’t you stay there?”
If not for her, I would never have met him. If not for her, I wouldn’t have fallen for him. And if not for her, I would have stayed there—somehow.
And I felt awful for thinking that, which made everything worse.
Rory was about to take a new group out on the Skye Trail. He’d camp on the beach with them at Bearreraig Bay, where he’d kissed me that first time. He’d spend a night in Sligachan, having a few pints with Gav, in the hotel where we’d first shared a bed—platonic(ish) as it may have been. He’d possibly stay in the bothy at Camasunary, where we’d made love for the first time, and maybe even go over Bla Bheinn, if the cliff path to Elgol was still impassable. And maybe even if it wasn’t.
He’d do all those things we’d done together—but not with me.