When Grandad told me all those years ago that if I wrote with my heart I’d never go astray, he had no idea how on the nose he would be. For many years my heart led me down a path of epic adventure and I loved every minute of it. In coming to Scotland though, I had no clue the turn my writing would take would be toward an epic love story… His love story, no less.
It’s been two and a half months since I first found the letters, and I now have a solid first draft ofWith Love, From Skye. With the way my agent’s been hounding me for updates, despite my still being on the sabbatical we agreed on, I’ve decided to go ahead and send him the first ten chapters. I warned him it’s nothing like what I’ve written before and that if he’s not willing to represent it to publishers, I’ll publish it myself.
I’ve never believed in a story more than I do this one and I’m determined to see it on shelves around the world—a testament to the love of two people, the struggles they overcome, and the way a simple life can be the most epic adventure of all.
With the whoosh of that email sending, I stand up and stretch. I woke up early this morning to get that sent off so I could focus on the much more important parts of today.
I’m dressed in a pair of grey exercise pants, a green athletic tee, and my hiking boots. Grabbing my rain jacket, I head for the front of the inn and find Avi and Nox talking with my grandparents. Gran is standing behind the desk while Grandad sits in the chair that we brought in so he can sit with her anytime she’s up here—or when I’m up here.
His stamina has declined over the past month, but the brightness that comes with his laugh never fades.
“You two ready?” I ask, looking them over from their own hiking boots up to the rain jackets they carry. Avi’s fitted leggings make me want to haul her back to my room, but there’s no time for that… At least not at the moment.
“Aye, let’s go,” Nox says, excitement for our adventure scrawled all over his face.
Avi ruffles his hair and says, “I’m ready too.”
He rolls his eyes before meticulously pushing his fingers through it so it sits just the way he had it.
“Alright then.”
I press a kiss to the top of Gran’s head and squeeze Grandad’s shoulder. He gives me a wink, and the sparkle in his eyes that says he’s got a secret is there in full force. But this time, I’m in on it.
We pile into the Land Rover and I reach across the front seat to lace my fingers through Avi’s. Today is going to be a good fucking day.
Honestly, every day feels like a good one lately.
At first, I wasn’t sure how I’d fit into the dynamic between Avi and Nox, and I wasn’t looking to force my way in and change everything. But I couldn’t deny that I wanted to be a part of it.
As soon as I wrapped my head around the concept of Nox as my son, I wanted to know everything about him. Avi filled me in on so much of those younger years in the weeks before he arrived, but I haven’t wasted a day of the last month connecting with him.
It worked out that since Avi had to work and I could wake up early or stay up late to write—the two times I’m most productive anyway—I’ve spent most of my days hanging out with my son. Sometimes it was just sitting on the roof at the inn—something Avi allows so long as I’m up there with him. Others we’d ride bikes into town or down to the loch or go on a hike. When Grandad needed to get away from the inn for a bit, we’d take a drive and he’d tell all sorts of stories about me at Nox’s age.
With each passing day, we feel a little more connected—a little more like family. I hope that today will only solidify that further. Because there’s nothing I want more than this. Avi. Nox. Skye. I had no idea coming here would lead to this, but I’m incredibly grateful that it did.
For the first half of the drive, Avi pulls outJournals of Elsewhereand reads it aloud. It’s bizarre to hear my words in her voice, to watch Nox’s reactions as the story unfolds, but I love it too. Sharing this piece of myself with them. We’re already nearly done with this oneand Nox says he wants to jump straight intoExpedition to Elsewhereonce we are.
As the road gets windy the farther north we drive, Avi has to put the book away. We fill the remaining time talking about the upcoming school year for Nox, which starts in two weeks; his teacher assignments; and the small group of local boys he’s met over the past few weeks.
The constant chatter has kept me from having the chance to feel nervous. But pulling into the car park at the base of Old Man of Storr, the first hint of anxious excitement hits my stomach.
It’s been eleven years since I was here—very nearly to the day, which is crazy to think about. As is the way with most natural landmarks, it hasn’t changed, but it feels completely different somehow.
Nox jumps out of the car and finds the sign that talks about the hike and the mountain, while Avi and I sit for a moment in silence looking up at the large spire before we look at each other. There’s something wistful in her eyes, a remembrance of that day so long ago when we gave ourselves to each other and had no idea that it would change both of our lives the way it did.
“I love you,” I whisper, picking up her hand that’s clutched in mine and pressing a kiss to her palm.
“I love you too.”
An hour and a half later, we stand at the top of Photographer’s Knoll, taking in the vast views of the sea and mountains, all greens and greys and blues. It’s a stunning sight to behold, and one that reminds me just how majestic this country is; my homeland, my home.
Nox is an excellent hiker for his age. Something he picked up from all his time hiking with Callum. He sprinted a couple sections and was scrambling over rocks as well or better than any mountain goat I’ve ever seen. He has so much energy and I wish sometimes I could siphon a little bit of it off for myself.
He’s standing with Avi when I walk up and wrap my arms around her waist. “At least it’s not raining today,” I say into her ear, and she settles more fully into me, letting me take her weight as she leans her head against my shoulder.
“Well, now that you’ve put it out there, it probably will,” she says with a sarcastic bite, and I chuckle against her.
“Probably.” I kiss her hair and she sighs, crossing her arms over mine where they rest around her.
