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Chapter One
Scotland.
Looking out the window of the chugging train excitement makes my heartbeat faster. I’ve dreamed of this forever. My first memory is of Mom telling me stories of her home. She would tell her tales and I would imagine I was here, in the Highlands walking hand in hand with her.
I miss her still. The hole she left in my heart is an empty ache even after all these years. Savannah squeezes my hand, pulling my attention off the beautiful, dusk covered landscape rolling past.
“You okay?” she asks.
Savannah smiles and it’s infectious, her cherubic face lights up and her flaws make her more beautiful, not less. Her straw colored, shoulder length hair catches the last ray of sun and shines. I place my hand over hers and return the squeeze.
“I’m fine,” I say.
I am. Mostly. Mom’s been gone for years, it’s not like that wound is fresh. Gail emits a high-pitched squeal jerking our attention across the aisle to our classmates. Ryan is nuzzling her neck and she’s twisting to get away.
“Stop,” she barks between peals of laughter.
“Nom, nom, nom,” Ryan says, continuing.
“Ahem,” Professor Galmatin clears his throat as he rises from his feet and fixes a baleful glare on the young couple.
“Sorry Professor,” Ryan says, sounding anything but remorseful.
I’m not jealous, really. No, it’s not jealousy when I look at them, it’s loneliness. Here I am, with my classmates and my best friend, but I’m alone. I don’t fit in. The fact Savannah is my friend at all is something I often must remind myself is true.
I wonder, sometimes, if I’m not a charity case for her, though I know she doesn’t think that way. My thoughts do. I don’t fit and I don’t belong. I’m the girl in a crowd of people who still feels alone. And it’s okay, for the most part. I don’t mind, really, but it would be nice to belong. I imagine it would anyway. I guess. I could be wrong and it’s not like I’m not happy.
I’ve tried dating a few times, but it’s never worked out. College keeps me busy anyway. My Dad worries about my lack of prospects more than I do. He had his great love and I appreciate that he wants that for me too. I guess one day it will happen. I’ll find that special someone, somewhere.
The soft sway of the train rocks Gail and Ryan as they cuddle together. Ryan whispers something and Gail giggles like a schoolgirl and her cheeks blush to the absolutely perfect shade of pink which only makes her prettier, of course. Ryan has one arm slung casually around her shoulders and they look the perfect couple. Maybe they are each other’s perfect match. Another great love story unfolding before our eyes. I hope so.
I look out the window of the train. The thick trees that crowd the track are receding, and I get my first look at Dalmally.
A thick fog lies over the sleepy village, rolling down from the surrounding highlands and off Loch Awe. The shush of waves washing onto the beach, the damp air, and the scent of fishy water mixes with the mechanical whirring and hissing of the train. The train station and the entire village looks like a place out of time. The kind of place where myths and legends seem closer, away from the noise and rush of modern life.
The train pulls into the station, and I grab my sole suitcase from the overhead rack. I’m the first to step off the train. My foot crunches into the red rock that forms a sidewalk as sheep baa in the distance. The train hums loudly, and a cool breeze brushes across my face, carrying the faint scent of heather that mostly buries the fishy smell coming off Loch Awe.
I breathe deeply and close my eyes. I’m here, and it feels like coming home. Though I’ve never been here, Scotland has filled my dreams. I’ve studied it and fantasized about it for so long it feels more home than my actual Missouri home. I can quote almost every line of Braveheart and Rob Roy both, but getting to go to a live dig in the highlands, that’s the opportunity of a lifetime. One so inviting I switched my major from pre-med to archaeology to pursue it.
Someone bumps into me, forcing me forward.
“Sorry,” I mutter, turning around.
No one’s there.
A chill creeps down my back.
I’d swear the train station hasn’t changed in a hundred years. It’s a fixed point that time passes by without touching. Down the dusk covered tracks trees and brush crowd, making a dark tunnel that fades away into nothingness. Over the trees looms the top of Beinn Donachain, the mountain that rises to the northeast of the village.
My friend Savannah finally deboards and walks over. “You’re pale, are you okay?”
“Yes, sorry,” I say, oddly out of sorts. “Jet lag, that's all.”
The old stone walls of the train station have an ambience of age, of untold stories of the things they’ve witnessed, adding to my unease. I force a smile, and Savannah returns it. She drops the two bags she’s carrying.
“We’re here!” she exclaims, putting an arm over my shoulders and turning us in a circle.
“I know,” I say.
