Chapter Twenty-One
Amelia
After our dip, he re-wrapped my knee. “Do you, uh, need me to help you get dressed?” he asked.
“No, I can do it.” Even if it took me an hour. I couldn’t handle his hands on me like they were before, not if it wasn’t going to go anywhere.
It didn’t take an hour, but it did take a while. I limped out of the tent, carrying my boots and socks—there was no way I could put them on without help. As I was getting dressed, the reality crashed down. Getting back on the trail today was going to suck.
Rory helped me with my boots, and then we ate quickly.
“You ready to head out?”
I just nodded, knowing that if I said yes, he’d be able to hear in my voice that I was afraid I was nowhere near ready.
I stood, and he helped me into my pack, waiting while I adjusted to the heavy burden. He handed me my poles and then shrugged into his own pack. “Okay, we’re aiming to get to Sligachan today, where you’ll have a non-reconstituted meal and an adult beverage at the hotel restaurant before you sleep in an actual bunk—after you shower. How’s that for motivation?”
“Sounds amazing.”
“Aye, it does. But you’re going to let me know if you need to rest, right?”
“I will.”
“And if we can’t make it to Sligachan today, then we won’t, all right? I would rather we go at a steady pace, even if it’s slow, and sleep out another night, than completely wear you out so you can’t move tomorrow.”
His face flushed slightly at his double entendre. “That didn’t come out right,” he muttered. Maybe it wasn’t what he meant to say, but it conjured all kinds of naughty images in my mind, and I wondered if he was seeing similar ones in his.
“Trust me, if you wear me out so much that I can’t move tomorrow, you’ll know it,” I said with a grin.
He stared at me for a moment, his eyes wide. Then he looked away, muttering something under his breath that was either a prayer or a curse, which made me laugh. It was fun to see him flustered, and it momentarily distracted me from worrying about how I would get through the day. He glanced back at my laugh, then rolled his eyes and grinned. “Come on, let’s go.”
The first few miles were on the road. While I had complained the day before about how uncomfortable it was to walk in hiking boots on pavement, today I was grateful for the stable ground.
It was still slow-going, and although my knee seemed to be doing okay, Rory insisted on holding my upper arm “just in case.” But I could feel the tension running through him, and I knew this pace was nearly impossible for him to maintain, with his long, uninjured legs.
After about a mile, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Rory, stop for a second.”
“What’s wrong? Do you need a break?”
“No, I’m fine. And I think I can manage okay without you holding my arm.”
It was fascinating to watch the series of emotions that ran across his face. First relief, then guilt, then doubt. He shook his head. “What if you fall?”
“Then you’ll help me up, say ‘I told you so,’ and then I’ll let you hold my arm for a while.”
His lips quirked at that. “All right. But let me know if I start walking too fast, okay?”
“I will.”
It was much easier to walk without him holding my arm, though I missed his touch. I was also able to move faster, and although it wasn’t anywhere close to his usual pace, it was obviously easier on him, too.
But the silence was starting to grate on my nerves. “Tell me about Tommy,” I blurted out after we’d been walking for a while.
He looked over at me, clearly surprised. “Why?”
“It’s your turn to share. I told you about the Hike from Hell.”
He visibly relaxed. “What do you want to know?”
Why you’re being weird about it. “How long have you guys known each other?”
“I’ve known him since I was a lad, but we didn’t really become friends until years later. He’s actually the one who got me into the outdoors and hiking, which, like you, I used to hate.”
“You hated it?” I knew why I had hated it, but he’d had this incredible scenery as his playground. “Why?”
“It’s…complicated,” he said after a moment. “I was small for my age and not great at anything athletic, and I couldn’t keep up with my… I just had a tough time.”
Okay, then. Obviously not a favorite subject. “How did Tommy get you into it?”
He didn’t answer, and the silence became uncomfortable. He walked as if on autopilot, his thoughts clearly far away.
Suddenly, my knee buckled. Rory grabbed my arm and wrenched me upright before I hit the pavement. “Let’s take a break.”
“I’m okay, I just didn’t see a rut in the road.”
“I know. We’re just about to the point where we leave the road for a path. We’ll rest for a bit and then carry on.”
There was no sense in arguing with him. Besides, my knee was aching and my other leg was tired from doing extra work to keep me upright. I needed the break.
I took off my pack and sat on a rock overlooking the sea. Rory sat a few feet away on another rock.
“I was a pretty messed-up kid,” he said suddenly. Startled by his out-of-the-blue admission, I looked over at him. His gaze was firmly fixed on the sea. “I was flunking my classes, running with a bad crowd, picking fights at school, getting suspended. And it didn’t make a difference,” he whispered, almost as an afterthought.
“Only one person seemed to care,” he continued, “my literature teacher at school, Mrs. MacDougall.” He paused for a moment, a smile that looked almost sad curving his lips. “I’d always liked to write but had never shown my work to anyone. My dad…thought writing was for girls.” He put that part in air quotes, his lip curling with disgust. “So I’d always been embarrassed to show it to anyone. But Mrs. Mac was amazing. She cared, you know? And she was the first one to encourage my writing. She knew me before…everything. And when…it all went to shit, and I stopped doing anything much at school other than causing trouble, I always did my work for her class, because I didn’t want to disappoint her.”
I pictured young Rory, putting on a tough facade, lashing out at everyone and everything except this one teacher. What could have sent him down that path?
“One day, after my latest round of mischief, I was expelled. I didn’t even care anymore. But Mrs. Mac found out and got them to give me one more chance, saying she’d vouch for me. She told me I was at a crossroads, and I could either keep going as I was and end up amounting to nothing—or worse, wind up dead in an alley—or I could take the hand that was being offered to me and let her help me turn my life around. I was fifteen.”
This was the most he’d ever said about himself. There was so much more he wasn’t saying, but I didn’t dare interrupt him.
“For so long, I hadn’t cared about anything, not even whether I lived or died. No, that’s not true—I did want to die,” he whispered. He clenched his fists on his thighs, as if to force down the emotion that threatened to burst forth—that he couldn’t let burst forth.
Blinking back tears, I hesitantly reached out and covered his hand, waiting for him to yank it away.
But he didn’t. He opened his fist and clutched my hand instead.
“I wanted to die,” he repeated without looking at me, “but like with everything else, I was too scared to make it happen. Which is ironic, given that the Sutherland clan motto is Sans Peur, ‘No Fear.’ No wonder my father fucking hated me.”
My heart broke for that lost boy. “Rory, that doesn’t mean you were too scared; it means that deep down inside, you didn’t want to die, not really. You wanted to live; you just needed someone to help you see that.”
His lips curved slightly. “Maybe. Anyway, Mrs. Mac thought Tommy was the one who could get through to me, and she was right. Tommy’s two years older than me, but he knew—” He broke off for a moment, and then said, “He knew what I was going through.” From the way he’d hesitated, I knew that wasn’t what he’d started to say.
He pulled his hand from mine and stood. “Long story short, he made me join this group of kids he took out hiking nearly every weekend. I resisted at first—it was like opening up a wound, and I couldn’t bear it. But then I started to actually like it, no matter how hard I tried not to. It was a program that encouraged kids from all over the UK to go outside and get involved with nature, with the community, and so on. I stuck with it, earned my awards and certifications, and got myself back on the right track at school.”
“And now you work with those kids.”
“Aye, I wanted to give something back. I owe everything to Tommy and Mrs. Mac. If not for them, I don’t know what I would have become. They saved my life.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I graduated secondary school and eventually got my Mountain Leader certification. And Tommy and I have been best friends ever since.”
I had no doubt it was more involved than that, but I knew he wasn’t going to say more. Not now, anyway. That he’d confided so much was a surprise—and a hell of a lot more than I’d bargained for with my simple “so tell me about Tommy” comment. I wondered what had driven him into such darkness—darkness that still clung to him today. It wasn’t fair for him to have had so much heartache in his life.
“I’m glad you have Tommy, and I’m glad you had Mrs. Mac. Sometimes just one person can truly make a difference in someone’s life. Do you still write?”
“I don’t have the time to do it during the busy season, but in the off-season, when the nights are long, yeah. Short stories, mostly, but I have some other things I’ve been playing around with. I jot ideas in my phone so I don’t forget them. Anyway, we need to get going. I don’t like the look of the sky.”
Indeed, it had gotten darker while he’d been talking, and now the sky was an angry charcoal gray, the clouds heavy and full, as if they were about to burst.
Which they probably were.