Chapter 18
18
Harper smiled at her phone screen. After posting a selfie with her laptop in the bookshop this morning, announcing that she was, in fact, writing her first novel, her notifications were full of excited comments from friends, acquaintances, and strangers alike. As she sat with Bernard on the top step of the cabin’s porch, though, scrolling through her feed, her good mood soon soured.
Kenzie had posted another picture with her new girlfriend, this one of them in a fancy restaurant, with white wine and tapas on the table as Kenzie nestled into the brunette’s ear.
Yuck . Nobody needed to see that. “It should come with an explicit content warning,” she said under her breath.
Of course, Harper had felt cute when she had taken a similar shot with Kenzie, and her followers had certainly agreed at the time.
She closed her phone before she could start obsessing, finding that it was much easier than it once had been. She wondered for a brief moment whether Kenzie was as happy as the photographs made her look, then brushed the thought away.
She didn’t care, she realised. She really didn’t care. The pain of rejection still lingered, like a barely-scabbed-over wound. Once, she would have wondered what Kenzie was doing right this second, what she was wearing, who she was talking to, whether she’d visited her mum recently, whether she had any holidays booked, what she’d had for lunch. But it had been a while since she’d really wondered what Kenzie’s life was like now, detached from their history together. Her only thoughts were bitter and fleeting, like shots of cheap tequila. They burned her throat briefly, but she was moving on.
She leaned against the railing, glad when she heard the squeak of the shed door opening and closing to her right. She’d barely seen Fraser since he’d popped into preschool yesterday. She knew he was busy with Eiley’s problems and his own work, but… she’d missed him.
He strolled into view, heading for his chopping block and stilling only for a moment when he realised she was home. “You’re back early.”
“I wrote four chapters today!” she gushed, but her smile faltered. He wasn’t… looking at her properly, not the way he usually did. Not with lust and desire, or even with curiosity.
“Nice. Well done. If you were planning to work on it some more, I’m about to be chopping some wood, so…”
Well, that felt like a polite way to tell her to buzz off. She frowned, propping her elbows on her knees. “I’m happy to watch. Maybe you’ll serve as some inspiration for the spicier scenes.”
He tore the axe from the block, assessing it as though he’d never seen it before. “Oh, aye? It is that sort of book, then?”
“Maybe.” Her voice lilted with seductive mischief, but whatever she’d hoped to summon from him never came. He turned away, focused on his tool.
Had she misread something? They hadn’t been able to keep their hands off one another, and now he would rather gaze longingly at his axe. He positioned the first humongous log with a heavy grunt, muscles taut beneath his shirt. With repetitive, dogged swings that left beads of sweat shining on his brow, he hammered the blade into the wood until it finally cracked open.
“Are you okay?” Harper asked.
He didn’t hear her, instead kicking half of the split log away. Then, he kept chopping through the first, biting his bottom lip. His nostrils flared with the force of his determined breaths, every ounce of energy used to splinter through the wood.
Something was wrong. She tried to remind herself that she always felt like something was wrong. Secretly, she’d been waiting for Kenzie to dump her since the moment they’d got together, because nothing good lasted and she couldn’t imagine somebody wanting her long-term. It hadn’t been a surprise when Kenzie had confirmed that insecurity.
But this isn’t the same thing. This is casual, she reminded herself. She decided to go inside and make some tea – one for him, in case he decided to pay attention to her.
On the sofa, she opened her laptop, glad when Bernard curled up beside her so she didn’t feel so alone. She should write while she had the time.
But her attention kept returning to the man outside. She was tempted to Google “ how to know if a man is giving you the cold shoulder or just really interested in wood ”, but that felt silly. She was not doing this. She was easy breezy!
Of course, she tried to write, but no words came, despite them having flowed out of her in torrents this morning. Her hands still ached from all the typing. So, she spent what felt like hours staring at her document until the sky darkened and Fraser finally came inside.
“You really… went to town on those logs,” Harper said quietly.
“Yeah, well, it’s getting cold. People need firewood.”
“How much do you charge, if you don’t mind me asking? I should probably start paying for mine. I always have the fire lit!” She let out an awkward laugh, glad when he perched on the arm of the couch beside her. A good sign.
“I don’t charge the locals for firewood. If people are able to donate a bit of cash to keep me going, they’re welcome to, but with the cost of living going up, I’d rather make sure everybody’s keeping warm for free. It’s the least I can do.”
Her insides turned to hot syrup. He was such a good person, and he said it as though he didn’t even realise it. She tilted her head to look up at him. “That’s a really kind thing to do for people.”
He shrugged. “We’re a community. We all do what we can for each other.”
It wasn’t like that in the city. Her mum’s neighbours were fine enough, although they didn’t like to talk much and their garden was so overgrown that Mum was always complaining about their tree creeping over the fence. Then Harper had spent much of her twenties in dank and crumbling apartments, with vampiric landlords and elusive flatmates who each survived on microwave meals for one.
“Well, it’s lovely. You’re very lovely.”
His tight-lipped smile was bashful. Hesitant. He got up suddenly. “I have to go, anyway.”
“Oh. I was going to ask if you fancied grabbing dinner or something.”
He was already tugging on his coat, whistling for Bernard to stop snoozing. “I promised Eiley I’d babysit for her. She’s got a lot going on.”
“Fair enough.” Harper stood up, slowly rounding the couch to face him. “Tomorrow, then? I’m going on a hike with Dot in the morning, but my afternoon is free.”
The preschool organiser had been eager to drag Harper along with her hiking group, and made it difficult to say no. Strangely, Harper was looking forward to it. She was enjoying her little adventures more and more each day. Apparently, many authors had made the trek up to Macaskill Ridge, taking inspiration from the vast Highland view.
But Fraser’s wariness soon knocked the wind from her sails. “You’re going on a hike ?” he repeated.
She put her hands on her hips. “Yes! And?”
“Are you sure that’s safe for anyone involved?” His eyes glinted with devilment.
She nudged him roughly in the arm. “Stop making fun of me! I am finding my outdoorsy side, whether you believe in me or not. Dot said it’s beginner-friendly, anyway.”
She made to slump begrudgingly back onto the arm of the couch, but he caught her hand lightly, offering an apologetic grimace.
“Oi. Don’t be like that. You know I think you’re capable of anything.” Still, his compliment wasn’t delivered nearly as gently as usual, and he soon let go of her.
Her head pounded as she took a step back, schooling her features to hide her hurt. “Is everything all right, Fraser?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
She played with the edge of the couch nervously. “We just haven’t spent much time together this week. You don’t seem interested.”
“Well, we said this was casual, and I’ve been swamped with work…”
“I didn’t think ‘casual’ was synonymous with ‘hot and cold’.” She cleared her throat. “But that’s fine. I get it.”
“Harper.” He stepped towards her again. Finally, some of the warmth she recognised flickered across his features. “I am interested. Of course I am. I’d be mad not to be.” His voice was earnest.
Relief left her breathless, limbs going slack, but she tried to mask it with a self-conscious laugh. “Okay. Good.”
He traced her jawline with calloused fingers. A shiver went down her spine. She’d missed his touch. Too much. Maybe he was right to back away. She most certainly didn’t feel casual tonight. Was she scaring him off?
He didn’t seem scared when he kissed her. His tongue pushed into her mouth without warning, fingers tightening across the small of her back.
He pulled away too quickly, leaving her cold, and she fought the urge to complain.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised. “Good luck with the hike, eh?”
She nodded, though she wasn’t sure if she could keep expecting the things he’d given to her just a few days ago.
Maybe it was over before it had really begun.
“Are you all right back there, Harper? You sound to be breathing quite heavily…” Dot called out from somewhere far, far above Harper. Pausing on the craggy incline of Macaskill Ridge, Harper sucked in as deep a breath as she could manage and looked up, only for cold rain to pelt against her face and blur her vision. She stood in the dreary mid-morning shadow of Dot’s hiking group, who waited for her at least twenty paces away in drenched raincoats. All of them middle-aged or older, all of them fitter than Harper and unbothered about the dire weather, all of them smiling like maniacs. Did they really enjoy being beaten up by Mother Nature this much?
God, this was embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as fancying a bloke who clearly didn’t want to take things any further.
Harper wiped the sweat-mingled rain from her clammy skin and rested against a slimy slab of rock, which had an arrow carved into it, pointing up. She hoped that meant she was nearly at the top. “I’m all right. Just a bit out of shape after Christmas.”
One of the silver-haired men frowned. “Christmas was ten months ago.”
She wasn’t sure what his point was. It took Harper a full year to recover from all the cheese boards her mother brought out each year, and by then, it was time to stuff her face all over again.
“Well, maybe it’s the altitude. I’ve never been this high before.” She loosened her scarf, fanning her flushed face. If there was any cool air, she could no longer feel it. “What are the symptoms of altitude sickness?”
A few chuckled. Others gawked at her like she’d gone mad, which she probably had.
“Come on. I’ll help you up.” Dot weaved her way back over the cobbled footpath and offered out her hand with a kind smile. Her curly ginger bob whipped around her face in the harsh wind.
Harper hesitated. She felt ridiculous. If Kenzie were here, she’d be muttering something disparaging: Breathe through your nose so nobody hears you struggling.
Come on, slowcoach. Keep up.
Maybe you’d better stay at home next time.
“Maybe I should call it quits. I was never cut out for hiking,” she decided finally, voice crackling with pain she was trying very hard to stamp out.
“Well, you could, but that would be very silly…”
She dipped her head, waiting for the criticism to come.
Until Dot continued, “Seeing as you’re about thirty steps from the peak.”
Surprise struck Harper, and she snapped her head up. “Really?”
Dot squeezed her arm. “You’ve already made it to the top, and you didn’t even know it. You’re a wee trooper.”
A rattling laugh escaped Harper, and she covered her mouth quickly. Dot motioned for the others to go on ahead, as she linked her arm through Harper’s. “It took me years to hush up that voice at the back of my head telling me I couldn’t do it. That I was just embarrassing myself. I walked up this hill dozens of times before it felt any easier. But of course, it wasn’t my voice at all.”
“Whose voice was it?” Harper asked, and barely even noticed when Dot began leading her into a stride again. The soles of her boots slipped against the muddy ground, but she dug her heels in. Persevered.
Dot puckered her mouth like she was sucking on a sour lemon. “That miserable ex-husband of mine. He was always telling me I was incapable of things.”
Harper faltered. Dot kept her upright. “Careful. This part’s the worst.”
But it wasn’t the uneven path that had left her stumbling. Was it her own voice claiming she couldn’t climb this hill, or was it Kenzie’s?
No. That voice had been there before she’d met her.
It had existed for years, growing louder after the bullying at school began. It morphed into a different pitch, a different tone, each time she stumbled across a new person who put her down.
It might have been Kenzie’s now, but it hadn’t always been. Sometimes, it was her boss, Chris, telling her she was slacking off for taking so much as an afternoon off for a doctor’s appointment. Before that, it had been ex-boyfriends, ex-colleagues, teachers, schoolmates.
Maybe that’s why she’d put up with it for so long. She was used to it. That voice thrived on other people’s doubt, collecting insults like seeds and then planting them back into Harper, as though always waiting for proof that she wasn’t enough.
Harper was struggling, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it. Newfound determination surged through her. She pushed her aching muscles up, up, up, with Dot providing support. And just like that, Loch Teàrlag appeared over the ridge. A moment later, the full view spilled out around her, the water a smooth, silver disc at the foot of the hill.
She’d reached the summit.
“See? Not so bad, after all.” Dot patted her arm.
Harper would disagree. She was sore from her ribs to her calves, and her side still cramped with a stitch.
But it was worth it to feel this elation. She’d proved her own evil inner critic wrong, and everybody else who wouldn’t have believed her capable.
Her reward was a howling gale slapping her hood against her ear and cold, wet mud seeping into her socks, but… she’d done it.
She lifted her hands in the air triumphantly, throwing her head back to feel the rain on her face, and bellowed, “I did it!”
The hikers offered applause, some snorting in amusement, but she didn’t mind. Suddenly, embarrassment was not something she had any interest in feeling anymore. All it did was hinder her. If they were laughing at her, let them laugh. She’d accomplished something, and she didn’t care what anybody else thought about it.
She took out her phone and captured the view, from the rolling hills dipping into thick forest around them, to the loch she was growing to love. She zoomed in on Raindrop Café, just so she could show Cam later. Maybe she would post the pictures on Instagram, or maybe she would keep them for herself, because this little summit was serene and made her feel tall, and she didn’t need likes or comments or views to bring her back to earth just yet.
Her book awakened in her head, her heroine’s large silhouette taking form on a mountain much higher than this, where clouds haloed the crags and a quest awaited. Harper wished she had her notebook to jot it down, though it would have turned to soggy mush in this weather.
“So, tell me about these writers you mentioned,” Harper asked Dot, shouting to be heard over the downpour.
“Oh, well… I forget who it was. Robert Someone-or-other. He apparently wrote his poems on that bench over there.” She pointed to a faded old bench by a plaque engraved with the words “ Macaskill Ridge: where stories begin. ” Dying heather and wilting wildflowers surrounded the weathered bronze.
“You sounded much more knowledgeable about it when you were trying to convince me to join the hike,” Harper teased.
“And it worked! You’re welcome!” Dot gave her a playful nudge, then wandered to chat with two older ladies who were dressed in much more practical gear. Would they let Harper use those sticks to help her balance on the way down? Her legs were starting to feel like jelly.
She edged away from the group, sitting on the bench despite the rain seeping through her thermal leggings. Even if she didn’t know which author had sat here, or even if any had at all, it didn’t matter. She hoped that, maybe here, she would see the world through a real writer’s eyes. Here, maybe more of her book would unfold.
She fell quiet, waiting for it to happen, half-hoping the ghost of this Robert fella might whisper the answers to her.
“Any tips on writing a bestselling book?” she whispered into the wind.
If he replied, she didn’t hear it. Maybe he was just shy. Or maybe she was relying too much on external forces to do the hard part for her.
She stood up. Just then, another gust whooshed into her with a force she wasn’t expecting, dragging her into the small crowd of hikers. “Ah!”
One of the older women caught her swiftly. “Blimey,” a disembodied voice muttered from somewhere inside the lady’s big hood. “That’s a bloody strong gale!”
Dot grimaced, tightening the strings of her raincoat. “I think we’d better head back before we get blown away!”
But Harper wasn’t ready to leave. She tightened her scarf again, eyes never leaving the view. Like the plaque said, her story had just begun. She’d come here for inspiration, after all. “I think I’m going to stay for a while.”