Under a Storm-Swept Sky

by Beth Anne Miller

  I know you’re not bitching about your feet being sore, said Carrie’s voice in my head. Just remember why you’re doing this. If it was easy, everyone would do it. Without some pain and hardship, it wouldn’t be worth doing.

  I knew she was right—or at least, her voice in my head was—but that didn’t make my feet feel better.

  “Hey guys, let’s take a break here,” said Tommy. Wait, a break? I snapped out of my thoughts and looked around. We’d reached a crossroads, with a sign pointing to the left that read “Camustianavaig.”

  “How’s everyone feeling?” Tommy asked. The response was a cacophony of complaints about sore feet from the paved road. “Right, so I have good news and bad news. Bad news first: there’s another four or so miles of paved road before we get to the loch.”

  “And the good news?” asked Gordon.

  “The good news is that we can take a detour to climb Ben Tianavaig, which will get us off the road for a couple hours. There’s a fantastic view from the top, but it’s about fifteen hundred feet up—and down again—so if you’re already feeling knackered, you may want to skip it. If some of you don’t want to go, I’ll take you ahead to Sligachan and you’ll get a head start on the beer while Rory takes the rest of you up. What say you all?”

  The thought of doing that climb, with my feet already sore from walking on the road, was really unappealing. And it might be a good idea for me to have Rory out of my sight for a few hours, anyway.

  “I think I’ll sit this one out, if that’s cool,” I said.

  “No problem,” said Tommy. “Anyone else?”

  “Oh, come on, Amelia!” said Linda. “If Pat and I can do it, you certainly can.”

  That wouldn’t have been enough to make me agree to do the climb, but then I thought of Carrie. She would totally do it. And she’d be bummed if I didn’t, though she wouldn’t have insisted.

  “It’ll be fun!” said Megan. “You don’t want to miss out, do you?”

  When it came down to it, no, I didn’t—and I didn’t want Carrie to, either. Plus, it was nice to know that they all genuinely wanted me with them. “Okay, you convinced me. I’ll go.”

  We took a short break, everyone taking off their packs and sitting on the ground for a snack and some water.

  “You shouldn’t go up if you don’t want to.”

  A little shiver of pleasure ran through me at the sound of Rory’s voice. I looked up to see him looming over me. “Why not? Everyone else is.” I cringed as I said it. I could hear my mother’s voice. Just because everyone else is doing it doesn’t mean you should.

  He squatted down beside me. “That’s why you want to go up Ben Tianavaig, because everyone else is?”

  “Why? Do you want me to stay behind?”

  He tipped down his sunglasses. “No, I don’t want you to stay behind,” he said quietly, gazing at me with those eyes, clear green like sea glass. “I just don’t think you should let anyone force you into climbing a fifteen-hundred-foot hill you don’t want to climb.”

  I couldn’t think when he stared at me like that. I looked at his unsmiling mouth, remembering how those lips had felt against mine. I wished he would smile. I wished he would kiss me again…

  “Amelia?”

  I dragged my eyes back to his. His expression was unreadable, but his cheeks were slightly pink, and I wondered if he’d been remembering our kiss, too, and wishing it would happen again. Then I remembered what we were talking about.

  “No one’s forcing me. I didn’t come all this way just to sit out.”

  “There’s no shame in admitting you need a break.”

  And we were back to the condescension I hadn’t heard in two days. The pleasure I’d felt that he was talking to me, the desire for him to kiss me, winked out like a light.

  “What I need is to go up goddamn Ben Tianavaig, see this amazing view I keep hearing about, and take some pictures. If you don’t want me around, why don’t you just come out and say it?” I knew I sounded petulant and ridiculous—I knew it—and yet I couldn’t seem to stop myself. The more he tried to talk me out of it, the more I was determined to go—determined to prove to him that I could do it.

  Thwack! He slammed his palm down on his knee, so hard I jumped. “Damn it, Amelia, stop putting words in my mouth! Why are you being so goddamn stubborn?”

  My face hot, I glanced around, but no one else seemed to have heard. “Why do you have to be such a jerk about everything? It’s bad enough that you’ve had some kind of issue with me from the first moment we met, but I thought maybe after the way you had your tongue in my mouth the other night, we’d be past that. I guess not.” As I said the words, his eyes widened and the color drained from his face, and I wished I could take them back.

  But it was too late. I laid my hand on his arm, and he flinched as if I’d burned him. Shit. I needed to say something, to explain why… “Rory, I—”

  He got to his feet, the movement lacking his usual grace. “You want to go up Ben Tianavaig, fine. I’m done arguing with you. God knows you need more fucking pictures.”

  He stalked off without a backward glance.

  I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my hands. Why did I keep doing this? I could picture Carrie slowly shaking her head, her mouth tight with disappointment. Babe, that was pretty harsh. It’s one thing to stand up for yourself, but this went beyond that. You need to apologize this time, no excuses.

  If he’d even listen to me.

  I chatted with Molly and Megan for part of the way up Ben Tianavaig, trying to keep my mind off the argument with Rory. But after a while, I intentionally fell back a bit under the guise of taking a photo and told them to go on ahead. I needed some solitude.

  I had been truly horrible to Rory. Part of that was an instinctive response to being told not to do something—it just made me want to do it even more, like a rebellious teenager. And the other part? I didn’t want to admit that maybe he was right that I could use a break from yet another ascent and descent. But that didn’t give me the right to be a heinous bitch to him—to bring up the kiss he was obviously still conflicted about. After the fight about the tent, I’d vowed to stop picking fights with him, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

  I reached the top of Ben Tianavaig, and my argument with Rory faded into the background. We’d summited a number of peaks so far—of varying heights and difficulties. But that feeling of taking that last step up to the top never got old. And this was no different.

  The view was amazing. I could see Portree harbor and all the way back to the Storr and Trotternish Ridge.

  I snapped a few photos—knowing Rory was probably watching me do it and rolling his eyes in disgust—and then I remembered what he’d said when we watched the eagle. I lowered the phone and just looked. I looked at the harbor, remembering the peace I’d felt gazing out at the anchored boats on that first night. I looked at the Trotternish Ridge, stretching into the hazy distance like the spine of a stegosaurus. I looked at the Old Man of Storr, the solitary pinnacle that was such a Skye icon.

  Skye was utterly stunning. Everywhere. Each time I thought this is the best view yet, we’d get to the top of another peak or ridge and that view was the best one.

  The others had all sat down for a break, but I stayed where I was. I looked to the north, back the way we’d come, and opened the voice recorder on my phone. “I’m sorry I told you I wouldn’t do this hike with you. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s so worth it, and I promise to come back and hike it again with you when you’re better.” I shuddered, remembering how she’d looked the last time I’d seen her. “You need to get better.”

  My voice broke, and I sniffed back tears. “Oh, Carrie,” I murmured, “I keep acting so awful to Rory, when what I really want is for him to kiss me again. I wish you were here to tell me what to do. You always know the right things to say.” I swallowed hard. “I…I’ve become someone I don’t think you’d like very much. Anyway, I’m sorry…so sorry, for everythi
ng. I’m going to apologize to Rory and I’m going to do better from now on. I love you, and I miss you.”

  I ended the recording and turned away from the edge. And stopped short. Rory stood barely two feet away. His sunglasses were in place, but I could feel his gaze on me.

  Well, I’d wanted to apologize, and now was as good a time as any. I took a deep breath. “Rory, I’m—”

  “It’s time to go,” he said. He stepped back so I could go in front of him, clearly not interested in anything I had to say. And really, why would he be?

  I started down the trail, thinking of Carrie and how it was my fault she wasn’t here; of Rory, who would probably never speak to me again. I’m such a fuckup. I used to think I was a nice person—a good person—but now? I didn’t know who I was anymore.

  My vision blurred, turning the steep, rocky path before me into a gray smear. I stepped down—

  —and my foot jammed hard into the rock below, which was farther than it had looked through my veil of tears.

  My knee buckled. It felt like a hot knife ripped through it as I went down, crying out in pain.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Amelia

  I slid a few feet down the slope. A wave of nausea rolled over me, and I clenched my teeth so hard I could hear them grinding together as I tried not to puke.

  Footsteps slid to a halt beside me. “Amelia, are you all right?”

  Rory’s face swam before me. I blinked hard, shaking loose the tears, and he came into focus. “It hurts, Rory,” I gasped. “My knee…”

  “Take her pack, Tommy.” Hands brushed impersonally down my front, unclipping the straps. My pack was tugged from my shoulders, and then Tommy sat beside me, his arm around my back.

  Rory took my hand. “Deep breaths—in through your nose, out through your mouth.” His voice was calm, soothing, and I instinctively obeyed. “Good. And again, slowly—that’s it. Look at me.”

  I stared into his eyes, soft gray-green, like the sea during a rainstorm. There was no sign of his earlier anger. “I’m going to examine your knee. It will hurt, but I have to do it, okay?”

  I nodded, bracing myself for even more pain.

  “Here, hold my hand,” said Tommy. I let go of Rory and clutched Tommy’s hand.

  Rory knelt in front of me and rolled up both my pant legs to above the knee. At least I shaved my legs last night, I thought, stifling the more-than-slightly-hysterical giggle that threatened to break free at the absurd thought.

  He thoroughly examined my knee, moving it back and forth, up and down, side to side, then did the same actions on my other knee for comparison.

  All through those excruciating minutes, he kept telling me to breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it. You’re doing great.

  My hand hurt from crushing Tommy’s fingers. “I’m sorry,” I gasped, after one particularly hard squeeze.

  “Don’t worry, love, squeeze as hard as you need to.”

  Something cool and metallic pressed against my lips. “Take a sip, lass—just a small one,” said Rory. Liquid filled my mouth, and I reflexively swallowed. It burned slightly going down, leaving behind a smoky, not-unpleasant taste. Whisky. “One more sip.”

  I felt warm all over, and the pain receded a bit. I opened my eyes. Rory knelt beside me, a silver flask in his hand, his eyes worried. That can’t be good. “What happened?”

  I licked my lips, brushed away the tears. “I…misjudged the distance as I stepped down, and my foot jammed into the rock. My knee gave out. And it felt like a hot knife was being stabbed into it.”

  He nodded, unsurprised. “I’m pretty sure you sprained one of the ligaments in your knee. Without an MRI, it’s hard to be sure.” He pulled out the first aid kit from his pack. “I’m going to wrap it.” His hands fast and efficient, he wrapped an ACE bandage around my knee and secured it, then rolled down my pants legs. “Take these.” He dropped three pills into my hand.

  “What are they?”

  “Just ibuprofen. Here.” He handed me a half-full bottle of water. “Sorry—this is mine, but it’ll be easier than using the tube from your CamelBak.”

  I swallowed the pills with a swig of water and handed the bottle back to him. “Thanks.”

  “Let’s see if you can stand.” He nodded to Tommy, and with the two of them supporting me, they got me upright, with my weight on my left foot.

  “Can you put any pressure on your right foot?”

  Steeling myself, I slowly placed my right foot down and shifted some of my weight to it.

  Pain shot through my knee, and I staggered. Rory caught me. “Here, lean on your poles and try again.” He handed me the left, which I planted in the grass. “Now the right. It’s okay, I’ll hold on to you.” His left arm came around my shoulders.

  Slowly letting go of him, I took the right pole and dug it into the ground. “Now see if you can stand on both feet.”

  I leaned forward slightly, supporting myself on the poles, and put my right foot down. My knee hurt—a lot—but I stayed upright.

  “Good. Try taking a few steps, using your poles for support.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t.” What if I fell again?

  “I promise I won’t let you fall. Go on now, nice and easy.”

  His strength gave me confidence, and I hesitantly took a step with my left foot, and then my right. More pain, but I did it. And then another step. Left, then right.

  “Good!” he exclaimed. I flicked my gaze to him.

  He was smiling. Okay, it wasn’t a real smile—not even a grin, just a curve of his lips. But still. Figured that it took me fucking up my knee to make that happen. And I’d do it again if he’d smile for real. I shifted slightly, and my knee screamed. Okay, maybe not.

  His hand tightened on my arm. “All right?”

  I nodded. “Let me try by myself.” He let go, and I took a few more steps, leaning heavily on the poles. My knee hurt, but the leg held.

  “You’re doing great, Amelia. Can you carry your pack?”

  “I think so?”

  He helped me slip it on. I tightened the straps across my chest and waist and took a few more steps. The weight of the pack made it more difficult, but I stayed upright.

  He shrugged on his own pack. “Okay, let’s get you down this hill.”

  The ground was relatively level at first, and the going was slow, but steady. Then we reached a downward slope. I took a tentative step, and my knee buckled. “Shit!” I said as Rory caught my arm and kept me upright. I tried another step, but it was too much.

  “Tommy!” he called. Tommy was up ahead, catching up to the group. He trotted back to us. “Can you take her pack and poles?”

  “Of course.”

  I unclipped the chest and waist straps and Tommy eased the pack from my shoulders and set it on the ground. He secured my poles to the pack, scooped it up, and strode off as if it weighed nothing.

  Before I could blink, I was swept off my feet. Rory’s right arm was around my back, his left arm under my knees. I gaped at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Your knee isn’t stable enough for the descent.”

  “You’re…going to carry me down the hill?”

  “Yep,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  “With your pack on your back?” Mine had to weigh thirty pounds or more—and he had more stuff than I did.

  “Yep.” He started walking, and I tightened my arms around him, hanging on for dear life. If he stumbled…

  He stopped. “Amelia,” he said, his breath soft against my ear. I turned my head to look at him. “You’re strangling me. Relax.”

  “If you lose your balance—”

  “I’m not going to fall,” he said, interrupting me, “and I’m not going to drop you. Trust me.”

  I looked into his eyes. They were calm and steady, confident. I loosened my death grip around his neck and let my weight settle against his chest.

  “That’s it. Just relax.”

  He started fo
rward again. The rhythmic left-step-right-step motion of his body was strangely lulling, and I leaned my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. If I didn’t see what he was doing, maybe it wouldn’t freak me out.

  With my eyes closed, my other senses were amplified. I heard a cuckoo calling, somewhere to my right, and the swish-swish of Rory’s pack as he moved. I felt his strong arms around my back and under my knees, his even breaths against my face. I smelled the citrusy scent of his soap, the coffee he’d had with breakfast, the not-unpleasant scent of his sweat.

  Then my body started to tip. I gasped, tightening my arms around his neck, my eyes shooting open. “It’s okay. We’re at the bottom, and I’m just setting you down.”

  We were at the bottom already? I blinked, then looked around. We were on flat ground. Rory led me to a boulder and helped me sit. Tommy gave me my poles and set my pack at my feet.

  The others gathered around, looking worried, asking if I was all right.

  “Rory thinks I sprained one of the ligaments in my knee.” He stood a few feet away, conferring with Tommy, their voices too low for me to hear.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” Pat whispered, taking my hand. “That’s your trek ended.”

  My trek, ended? I’d been so focused—first on the pain, and then on praying that Rory didn’t drop me—that I hadn’t even thought about what the injury meant.

  No. It can’t be.

  “Hey guys, go have your lunch while we get Amelia sorted,” said Rory. When they scattered, he knelt beside me. “I’m going to call Scarlet to come get you.”

  “No!” I clutched his arm, hard enough that his eyes widened in surprise. I heard the hysteria in my voice but couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop now. “Please don’t call Scarlet. I can’t quit now.”

  “What are you talking about? You need to get to a doctor and have your knee looked after. I’m sorry, but—”

  “I need to finish the trek!”

  His eyes were sad as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Amelia, but you can’t.”