Page 8 of Cottage in the Mist
They were only things, after all. She touched her ring finger, surprised not to find the heavy weight of her engagement ring. Old habits seemed impervious to the truth of the matter.
She was better off without Justin. Even if she was all alone.
In the middle of nowhere.
She blew out a breath and slowed the car, staring out of the windshield. What if she’d made a wrong turn? What if she was truly lost? What if she managed somehow to drive herself right off the edge of a cliff?
The practical side of her nature insisted that as long as she stayed to the left she’d be all right, and that the road had to lead somewhere eventually. Eventually being the operative word, of course. Then there was the fanciful side of her personality—the side that Justin had always discouraged. It was fully capable of imagining all kinds of less than optimal outcomes to her desperate attempt to escape the pain of her current situation and the inevitable rush of well-meaning pity that followed in its wake.
Determination, fueled by anger, spurred Lily onward. There was nothing to be gained in wallowing. Better to seize the day—at least what was left of it. Things could actually be a lot worse. After all, she’d managed to miss the sheep.
As if to squelch her budding optimism, the gray clouds rumbled and a spatter of rain hit the windshield.
“Clearly this just isn’t my day.” Lily sighed, flipping on the windshield wipers as the skies opened in earnest and the rain pelted down on the little rental car. In all honesty, it wasn’t her week or month or year either.
And last night hadn’t helped at all. She’d hardly had any sleep, and when she had slept, her mind had surrendered tostrange dreams. The floating face of a man with ice-blue eyes and jet black hair. There had been danger, too. A fire. Angry men. Swords.
She shook her head, clearing her mind of the memory. She’d woken covered in sweat, her heart pounding. But what had startled her the most was the fact that the fear hadn’t been for herself. It had been for the man. The stranger with the crystalline eyes.
Scotland had obviously taken its hold. Now she was dreaming of men in kilts.
She smiled, thinking that perhaps Justin hadn’t hurt her as badly as she’d imagined. Or maybe in truth it was her pride more than her heart. It was hard to know really. The enormous weight of her parents’ death obliterated pretty much everything else.
But even as she had the thought, she knew that more than anything her parents would want her to move on. To love them and to mourn them, but above all else to continue to live.
The word echoed in her mind, and for a moment she almost felt as if she’d spoken it out loud. Meant it as an entreaty to someone else. Again her brain flashed the image of the man from her dream.
Nightmare really. Some weird amalgamation of the events of the past few weeks.
The mind had a way of playing tricks.
She shuddered, pushing aside her rambling thoughts, instead peering out into the storm, looking for a sign, something to tell her she was on the right road. The dark and the mist had closed around her, making visibility of more than a few feet impossible. On the sides of the road, she could barely make out the shadows of the trees, gyrating in the wind.
A darkened outline of a hedgerow on the right indicated that at least she’d made it past the cliffs in one piece. She glanced at her purse, wishing again that she’d thought to update her cellplan for coverage in Scotland. But the trip had been too rushed, and besides, who would she have called anyway?
In truth, she doubted this remote valley ran to cell coverage at all. The inn that Valerie’s friend ran was actually a castle, or tower as the Scottish called them. It had been built sometime in the early fifteenth century. A fortress that rested at the top of a rise just over the River Findhorn. Assuming she was on the correct road, the river ought to be off to her left somewhere, following the line of the road.
Eventually, according to the instructions she’d downloaded from their website, she should be crossing the river, and once on the other side, she’d begin the climb up to Duncreag.
The rain spattered against the windshield, the wind howling as it buffeted the little car. Lily tightened her hands on the steering wheel as she frowned out into the downpour, trying to see a light or some other sign of humanity.
Sadly, there was no sign of civilization save for the ancient hedgerow and the rutted road. But there had been sheep. So surely that meant human inhabitants as well. Inhabitants from her century preferably. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this valley had changed little since the tower had first been built. That there were secrets here.
The last thought seemed to pop up out of nowhere, and she shook her head at her addled musings. Clearly the rain and the mist were getting to her. She pushed the pedal down, and the car groaned but obligingly increased speed.
Just a little bit farther. She had to be close now. The road ahead shone in the pale wash from the headlights, and she concentrated on staying to the left. Not that she’d passed a car all day. Not since she’d turned off of the main highway. She was well and truly alone out here.
A shiver traced its way down her spine, and she swallowed, forcing a smile. She turned the dial on the radio, but there wasnothing but static. She reached to push a button to try and find another station, but before her hand touched the panel, the road ahead suddenly turned to the left.
Jerking the wheel, she felt the little car swerve, but the tires gained traction and the car moved safely through the turn. But before she could congratulate herself, she looked out to see the river suddenly rising before her. Swollen over its banks, it had either washed away the bridge, or swallowed it.
Lily slammed on the breaks, but this time the little car refused to cooperate. The wheels spun and the car shimmied sharply to the left, the rushing river looming through the windshield.
Wouldn’t it be ironic if she’d run away from her parents’ death only to careen into her own?
Calm rationality pushed through her hysteria, and Lily turned the wheel to the right, away from the river, as hard as she could. The car was sluggish, but it responded, whipping away from the road and the river, roaring through the brush and slamming into something hard.
Lily jerked forward, her head colliding with the steering wheel. And then there was nothing but the sound of the rain as it pattered against the roof.
