Page 6 of Beloved Enemy
“I can’t just—”
“You can,” insisted the woman with a sly grin and tone. “Off with you now.” And she’d given Charlotte a little shove away from her booth.
More than only a little puzzled, Charlotte had taken a few halting steps before looking back at the woman, who’d flicked her fingers again, shooing her further away.
Left with an impression that she’d been an unwanted visitor to the woman’s booth—though the woman herself had instigated conversation with her—Charlotte, clutching the pendant, had retreated. And later, when she’d turned around to head back to the hotel, she’d decided to cross over to the next street and return that way rather than encountering the strange woman again.
The encounter with the woman lingered in her thoughts for hours. She kept replaying it in her mind, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't dismiss it as just a cultural oddity or the eccentricity of an old woman.
So then it made no sense that when she’d returned to her hotel room and had changed clothes, she’d actually put the necklace on. No sense at all, certainly because she’d dressed to go hiking, donning her leggings, T-shirt, and her favorite sweatshirt that had a screen print of an angry possum and announced in bold letters,First of all, I’m a delight.
She’d stopped to glance in the mirror. Yeah, the ancient-looking pendant didn’t quite match the vibe, but inexplicably, she’d kept it on.
Because the weather forecast called for rain over the next few days, she’d decided to hike Ben Nevis today while it was only overcast but didn’t specifically looked like it might rain. She was not a regular hiker, and the thrill of the climb was not the draw, but she did want to be able to say she’d done it, and she did want to stand atop Scotland’s highest peak and see the never-disappointing landscape from that perspective. Or maybe halfway to the top, she’d allowed as a better possibility.
She’d driven herself to Achintee House near the base of Ben Nevis and had set out to climb, carrying only a few essentials, her ID and a bottle of water, her phone to take pictures, and her lip balm.
She could have gone on one of the guided tours, but for two reasons: the cost was over a hundred dollars and essentially provided only the ride to and from the hotel and a guide for trails that research had shown her were already clearly marked; and Charlotte didn’t want to be stuck with a group, or maybe slowing them down, if the hike proved more difficult than she’d estimated. She wanted to come and go as she pleased.
The path had begun nice and wide with clearly marked wooden signposts. Soon enough it angled right and curved round and ever upward, becoming narrower. As luck would have it, she’d caught up to a guided tour of about twenty folks, but passed them near a gully before a swerving bend. There, she’d paused to take a few pictures of the view over a lochan. She’d passed a few streams and then followed the path that began to zig-zag, all the while trudging relentlessly uphill. A couple hiked ahead of her, but were quite a bit in the distance and depending on the turns and swoops, she saw them only occasionally. She’d approached a plateau, the first bit of level ground since she’d begun the climb and drank a quarter of her water. There, the path was a bit confusing, as many trails seemed to lead to this plateau, so that Charlotte wasn’t sure which one to take to ascend further.
By nature, she was not a risk-taker and decided she’d better wait for that tour group to catch up, just to be pointed in the right direction.
The vista even here was already breathtaking, the landscape displayed as lush green valleys and rugged, rocky outcrops. Slivers of silver ribbon were noted here and there, the River Nevis meandering through the valley. And while she almost wished it were sunnier, she knew the overcast sky made for better pictures and took several more.
As she tucked her phone back into pocket made for that on the side of her thigh, she’d turned and saw a woman walking toward her, coming from one of the several paths.
“Oh, are you going up or down?” Charlotte had asked.
The woman was maybe about forty and dressed inappropriately, or rather was not dressed for hiking, wearing a short, sleeveless, knit slip dress and sandals with straps that tied around her ankles and calves. She was pretty, but in an old fashioned way; though it appeared she wore no make-up, her hair was kind of big, like 80s or 90s big.
When she didn’t answer and though she stared directly at her, Charlotte pointed in the direction from which she came, rephrasing her question. “Does that path go up or down?”
The woman paused, only five feet from Charlotte, and glanced behind her and then back at Charlotte.
“That’s where you want to be,” she said vaguely.
“I’m going up,” Charlotte said, desiring clarification.
“Yes, you are.”
Charlotte frowned at the woman’s strange manner, answering questions so hazily.
Smiling hesitantly and while the woman continued to stare at her, rather creeping her out, Charlotte said, “I don’t know how you climb in those things.” She pointed to the woman’s dressy sandals. “I’ve got sneakers on, and my legs and feet are already protesting.”
Ignoring this, the woman again turned her gaze over her shoulder toward the trail. Without facing Charlotte again, she said—even more mysteriously, “Go now. He’s waiting for you.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
The woman turned toward Charlotte but said nothing. Her lips curled into a knowing grin, one that seemed amused but at the same time was unsettling. Charlotte felt is if the womanknew something she did not, which made her feel curiously exposed and slightly uneasy.
“All right,” Charlotte murmured distractedly, moving past the woman to take the path she’d indicated. “Thanks,” she called over her shoulder. When there was no response, she glanced back and was given pause when she didn’t see the woman. Pivoting fully, Charlotte scanned the plateau and the brush surrounding it, her mouth falling open. The woman was nowhere in sight. Marching back toward the center of the plateau where she had a better view of the different paths, she still didn’t see the woman anywhere.
Mystical indeed, she thought, recalling the word her grandmother had used countless times to describe Scotland.
Charlotte briefly fisted her hands, not appreciating at all that twice now today, she’d been given the heebie-jeebies, before she’d continued her climb.
She hadn’t gone far when she’d noticed a distinct change in the air. She’d struggled to draw in a deep breath and frowned with some worry. So much for thatthin airshe’d always heard mentioned about climbing mountains. It had felt like a really humid day back home in Florida, where you can almost feel the heavy moisture in the air. And yet it was not exactly the same.
