CHAPTER 2
I woke up panicked.
I peeled my face away from the airplane seat and rubbed my cheek where the synthetic leather had left a crease. I raised my seat back and pushed up the window shade. The long transatlantic flight from New York to London was already over; I was on a smaller plane as I made the short hop to Glasgow, where we would land in a few minutes. From there I would take a bus to the Scottish Highlands. I’d been up for almost eighteen hours, and I’d just drifted off to sleep when a terrible nightmare woke me. I could vividly see the awful images as they replayed in my mind.
I was running. I was running as fast as I could on stony, wet ground. I could see waves pounding against the cliffs in front of me, the churning gray waters swirling around the rocks below. A menacing curtain of clouds had pushed itself in front of the sun, and I shivered, despite the sweat running down my back. On the mountaintop behind me was an old lady with white hair. It rose up off her like smoke, billowing around her wrinkled face. Only her eyes were young. And although she was speaking to me in a language I didn’t know, I could somehow understand every word she said:
“You must face your destiny! You can’t run away!”
Goose bumps spread over my whole body. I looked for a way out. In front of me, there was only the icy water, and behind me the terrifying apparition. But when I turned around again, she had disappeared. Where had she gone? I scanned the rocky, bare landscape. She had vanished. Relieved, I breathed deeply and sank wearily to my knees as a cold blast of air came down from the mountains.
That’s when I woke up.
The flight crew was preparing the plane for landing, and we all fastened our seat belts. I shook my head, trying to clear the haunting images. I hadn’t even set foot in this country full of superstitions and ghost stories, and already my imagination was playing tricks on me. Probably because I was so exhausted.
By the time I got off the bus in Inverness, dusk was falling. The driver lugged my gray suitcase out of the baggage compartment, and with a curt nod he jumped right back on and rumbled off, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust fumes.
It didn’t feel like summer here. It was cloudy and cold. It had rained for half the drive, and there were puddles on the road. I smoothed my hair back under my Wilmington City Ruff Rollers cap, put on the warmest jacket I had, and tried to get oriented. On the other side of the road was the tourist welcome center where I was supposed to meet my host family. I grabbed my bag and dragged it behind me.
Whoosh!
The suitcase was torn out of my hand, and I was knocked flat on the pavement. I had no idea what had just happened. I heard tires squealing and the loud roar of a motor, and quickly, I stood up.
The other side of the road was empty. About a block away, a biker stopped his black motorcycle and turned around to look at me. A man? Yes, a man, I thought. It was hard to tell with the helmet on. When the driver saw that I’d survived what had almost been a terrible accident, he turned around and raced off at full speed. All I could do was swear at him, but there’s no way he could have heard me.
My knee was really sore. I guess I must have banged it when I fell. My favorite hat was lying in a puddle, and my suitcase was in the middle of the road.
Weren’t there any people here, I wondered. Why wasn’t anybody helping me? If that biker had killed me, how long would it have taken for someone to notice?
My mood was getting darker by the second: first, the long journey; then that spooky dream; and now this near collision. I picked up my hat, shook off the water, and rolled my suitcase onto the curb.
Just then, a dark-green Land Rover pulled up next to me.
“Samantha Watts?”
A nice-looking red-haired man in his late thirties stuck his head out of the car window. He smiled at me, and then looked puzzled when he saw my wet pants. He jumped out and lifted my suitcase onto the backseat. Then he stretched out his hand.
“I’m Roy Leary. Sorry that I was late. I hope you haven’t been waiting long?”
“No, sir, I… uh…”
“Aye, that’s all right then. What happened to you, lassie?” Roy pointed at my pants. He opened the passenger door and offered a hand to hoist me onto the high-up seat.
I felt totally disoriented. This is what a kidnapping must feel like, I thought. I was being taken somewhere by a complete stranger, driving along a lonely street in an unfamiliar place a long way from home.
Roy was talking during the forty-minute trip, but I can’t remember answering any of his questions. Now and then, he pointed at things through the wet windshield. As I thawed out in the warm car, I started to feel surprisingly good, considering my exhaustion and the sore knee.
“So this mystic landscape of the Highlands has made us a very superstitious people, aye,” Roy explained. “The fog, the bare cliffs, the darkness—it’s all part of our heritage and legends. They lead the people here to a deep belief in magic. Dwarves, giants, fairies, and teine biorach—that’s like a will-o’-the-wisp in English. Stories about such things have been part of our lives for such a long time that we do believe in them.”
Roy shrugged, almost as if wanting to apologize.
I wasn’t sure if he would laugh at me, but the atmosphere in the car was perfect for strange revelations, so I hesitantly told Roy about my dream. When I’d finished, Roy nodded his head slowly and then turned to look at me.
“Many people come to this country without ever understanding it. Others only believe what they can prove.” His voice sounded so serious, as if he were reading from an ancient text. “My wish for you is that you learn to understand Scotland, its beliefs, its history, and above all, its people. So don’t be afraid of your dreams. Maybe dreams show the people their destiny.”
I had to force myself to look out the window again. It was hardly possible to distinguish anything now. In the darkness, I thought about what he had said. My destiny? No, thanks—I was there on a mission to avoid my life back in the States. I wanted things to be absolutely harmless. No boys. No cousins. No dark nights at the lake. I was not intending to fulfill any destiny!
I rubbed my arms violently to get rid of the goose bumps. Roy smiled at me, turned up the heat, and switched the radio on. I immediately felt better. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes.
“So what did happen to your trousers?” Roy asked.
“Oh, nothing. Some guy almost ran me over on his motorcycle, and I fell when I jumped back out of the way.”
Ow! I flinched.
My skin felt burned under my grandmother’s pendant. I put my hand up to my collar, but when I touched the necklace, it was just nice and warm. Slightly warmed by my body, nothing else. Don’t panic, I told myself. A short nap would chase the silly ghost stories away. The necklace had probably just scratched me. I secretly glanced over at Roy. He was driving, quietly humming to himself and not paying any attention to my strange behavior.
At last we made it to Aviemore. Roy’s wife, Alison, seemed a little shy, but friendly. She was so short that she only came up to my chin. Her long light-blonde hair was pulled back into a French braid, and her little nose fit perfectly into her tiny face.
Roy unloaded my suitcase and wrapped his strong arms around his wife’s dainty shoulders. Roy was a big man; next to him, even a sturdy person would look delicate. Roy saw me comparing the two of them and gave me a wink. “Now you see what I mean when I talk about dwarves and giants.”
He laughed, and Alison elbowed him in the side.
“I hope you haven’t been going on and on about Scotland’s ancient stories,” she warned, wiggling out from his embrace. “Samantha, please come inside. And stop listening to that big, stupid man.”
She pulled me into their cottage while Roy stood outside grinning.
The silence woke me up the next morning. Seriously, it was far too quiet to sleep. I rubbed my hand over my face, feeling like some jagged Cubist painting. I got up and pulled the curtains aside and slid the window open. Although it was still very early, the day was nice and bright. Cold, damp air streamed in, and I shivered. I wrapped myself up in the quilt from the bed, and then went back to the window. Never before had I breathed such clean air. I agreed with Roy; it really was magical here. Aviemore was only a little place, directly behind the bigger town of Fort William. I couldn’t hear cars, dogs barking, sirens. I heard nothing. And there was nobody on the street.
I’d been in a dreamy mood since I’d left home. It was the first time in my life that I’d be away for such a long time. I was thousands of miles away from all the people who were important to me, and I’d be here for seven weeks. No wonder my nerves were playing tricks on me. Still, I was looking forward to this adventure.
The night before, Roy and Alison had given me such a warm reception. I’d had hot food and a warm shower, followed by eight hours of sleep in the softest bed in the world. I almost felt back to normal. The rest of the world was waking up; I saw a few blinds slowly being raised in the neighboring houses. I closed my window and crawled back into bed. It felt like the mattress was trying to swallow me, and I sank into it deeply, giving in to the cozy feeling. Cold, fresh, clear air and a comfy, warm bed—this summer program was starting off perfectly.
I didn’t wake up again for a whole hour, until Alison knocked on the door. At the breakfast table, I found coffee, tea, eggs, and sausages. Roy’s seat was empty, but a used plate was in the sink.
Alison had arranged a surprise for me. She worked part-time at the tourist information center, and had used some of her contacts to book a weeklong series of day trips. She said they thought it was important for me to get to know Scotland as a country. I was a little shocked. I would have preferred to settle in a little more before I started sightseeing, but Alison looked so pleased. I did my best to put on a happy face.
“Thanks, Alison, but you really shouldn’t have. I’m sure this is all very expensive.”
“No, I have a good connection at the tour company and I told her you were an exchange student. She gave us a really good deal. Don’t worry about it at all.”
Shortly afterward, Alison dropped me off at the tourist information center in Fort William, which looked exactly like the one in Inverness. That was where our tour group would rendezvous.
“Have fun!” she called out.
“I will,” I called back. “Thanks! See you tonight.”
As I got on a bus with a few other visitors, a small, bald man introduced himself as our guide.