Glasgow Grace by Marion Ueckermann

want her, would he have said that? Then again, she’d seen the dark-haired beauty in his arms as she’d walked out of McGuire’s with Tavish. If only the shadows in this Katie’s car could have hidden them from her sight.
    Skye turned her thoughts to the two instances she and Callum had shared kisses the past weekend—the first in the Beetle, the second under the mistletoe. Both times had been filled with intensity and passion. Had it been like that for Callum and Katie last night? What would’ve happened if she had waited as Callum asked?
    While she ate an early breakfast, trying to enjoy the meal she’d been dreaming of, the hotel staff at reception arranged a rental car for her. This would be the first time she’d drive this road on her own. In fact, it would be the first time she’d drive in Scotland, and Skye was thankful the concierge had the presence of mind to request a car with satellite navigation. She’d still had a year to go before being eligible for a driver’s license when Da died and mother whisked her out of Scotland. The only bonus to moving was that, in an instant, she was able to drive at age sixteen. Of course, there were other benefits, like the opera house, but it took some time for her to see that.
    After breakfast Skye gave her mother and stepfather a quick ring to wish them a Merry Christmas. It was seven o’clock in the evening back home—their Christmas was almost over, while hers was just beginning. She didn’t confront her mother about Callum’s letters for now. Christmas day seemed inappropriate. But she would. Soon.
    With her bags ready and her stomach full, Skye took to the road. She shouldn’t need to stop until she got to Portree in the early afternoon. The day turned out to be beautiful and clear. Unlike yesterday. Blue skies up above, snow-covered earth below. But as much as she loved the white surroundings, she could’ve done without them today.
    She was eager to get to the capital village of Skye, and her journey would be longer than she wanted. She switched on the radio, turned up the heating, and got comfortable. Might as well sit back and enjoy the ride. First thing she’d do when she got to Portree was find a hotel and check in. Then she’d drive out to Stronuirinish Cemetery and look for her father’s grave.
    Five hours later, she drove across the Skye Bridge. Her heart beat faster. The dark waters of Loch Alsh beneath were a stark reminder of the last time she’d made this crossing. That, too, had been dark. She’d only driven across this bridge on one other occasion before that—their last family holiday in Portree the year before Da died. She was grateful she didn’t have to get to Skye the way they had when she was a child. She’d never liked those ferry crossings, but the times that Callum had been with her, he’d always held her hand tight and told her they’d soon be safe on the other side.
    So much for being alone and clearing her head. Almost every memory over the past few hours had involved Callum. He was woven into the fabric of her past. She couldn’t escape that fact. But could the same be said of her future?
    Perhaps she should call McGuire’s when she got to Portree.
    No. Callum had hurt her. Let him stew until she got back to Glasgow.
    Another hour passed before Skye spotted the familiar green signs on the A87. She smiled. On the left side of the road, in white writing was a sign: Welcome to PORTREE. Underneath it read: Please drive carefully. On the opposite side of the tarmac, the sign was written in yellow. Fàilte gu PORT RÌGH. Gabhaibh air ur socair. It had been a lifetime since she’d read Gaelic.
    In the distance, the snowy hills of Portree came into view. The picture in its entirety triggered a distant memory. Skye glanced to her right and did a double take. The sparse winter’s hedge along the roadside could not hide the gray, black, and skin-tone gravestones. Skye’s breath caught in her throat. Stronuirinish cemetery.