It had been a stupid thing to do! Who in their right mind left their job on a whim, put their house up for sale—which, mind you, they’d just paid the loan off on—and bid adieu to the city they’d always wanted to live in? All in a blink of an eye.
Only her.
No, Aileen reminded herself. It was time to be ‘adventurous’. Her mind was so used to following a logical pattern that it was now in an ocean and didn’t know how to swim.
Would she drown? Maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew.
No, no—she wasn’t the old Aileen any more. She would never be that Aileen again.
Bummer, how long had she been driving? She had left the main motorway behind a long time ago. Had she seen another car on the road in the last hour?
But Aileen remembered all those summers spent at her gran’s inn. She remembered the magical snow-splattered hills; the quiet burbling of the loch waters. Oh, how blue the loch was, a mirror reflecting the abundant cerulean abyss of the sky.
It was that dream she had recalled: those carefree summers where she had been adventurous. She’d chase rabbits and dip her toes in the cold waters of the loch when she’d been told not to.
Aileen sighed in awe at the pleasant scenery hurtling past her.
She was surrounded by rocks that stretched up to the sky. A gurgling stream zipped by the side of the road and right there was a ruined fortress: all the pieces that made the Scottish Highlands so bonnie.
The road turned narrower and raced away from the fortress. It went past hills, dense pine-filled forests and then, oh my! Aileen gasped.
In front of her was a large mass of deep cobalt water, as blue as the Scottish flag. And white snow sparkled on the mountains that stood tall and mighty behind the loch.
Home, her heart beckoned.
A smile cracked on Aileen’s face, the frown that had settled there with self-doubt dissolving into pure joy, the stress that had taken residence in her body evaporating into the song of the Highlands.
Aye, she could hear the melody now. The wind whistled with the tune of a bagpipe playing ballads, as they seemed to have for aeons. These songs that scores of Scots had sung, danced, made merry or cried at.
A blue sign on the road announced Aileen had reached the end of the road. And hopefully a bonnie beginning in her life.
Aileen had reached Loch Fuar, the town with the cold lake.
***
The long sedan that drove through the ancient streets of Loch Fuar was caked in mud. The fact that it was long and a sedan told every passer-by that it wasn’t local. There was no need for a number plate. It had disappeared behind the coated mud a long time ago.
The lass who stumbled out of the car had long brown hair. Some would say it was almost black. Her coat and shoes screamed city folk.
She stretched her legs as best she could. Grimacing at her sore muscles and then wincing at the look of her car, she blew out a breath.
A long way from home she was.
The tea shop’s wooden door chimed open as Aileen rushed into the warmth.
The shop was filled with gusto. After all, it was late in the afternoon, time for some warming tea.
Aileen shuddered. She could do with a finger of whisky in hers. Her nerves were all over the place. Fish out of water made to mingle with people she didn’t remember. Aileen’s shiver turned into a moan as pain zinged across her back.
Perhaps she needed a warm bath to loosen her tight muscles.
‘If it isn’t MACKINNON!’ a boisterous voice exploded in her ears. The tea room went quiet, all movement froze.
Aileen’s heart began to thud wildly.
She searched for the voice in a room full of pink-faced—some heavily bearded—Scots who looked older than the Duke of Edinburgh.
One man stood and raised a beefy hand. ‘Helped yer granny with the inn.’ His voice held a strong Scottish burr. ‘Remember ya as a wee lass running about. Look just like yer granny did fifty years past.’
Her poor heart had no chance—it was beating at such a high rate, she thought she might collapse. Before she could react, Aileen lost her small hand in one of the smiling gent’s.
Manners kicked in and in one exhale she muttered, ‘Aileen—Aileen Mackinnon.’
‘Aye!’ This time it was an old Scotswoman who came up to her. ‘Now I remember. You loved the shortbread I’d bake—never spared any for the other guests, remember?’
Aileen wedged her lips apart into a smile as polite as she could muster and felt the warmth of a blush tainting her cheeks. The last thing Aileen had come looking for was attention…
But this was a small town, and the Adventurous Aileen could talk to people.
As if experimenting, Aileen licked her lips.
