What Lies Between by Charlena Miller Page A

was possible.
    I headed past a crumbling stone wall and followed a well-worn path around the back of the largest hill and upward to its pinnacle. I squeezed my body between a set of close rocks to reach its highest point.
    “Wow . . .” I had chalked up Ben’s description to exaggeration, but if anything, his buildup was understated. I could see in all directions. And what I could see was odd and, yes, magical.
    A precise miniature of the vast Highlands lay before me, with a tiny lochan at the foot of pointed hills draped with plush, green ground cover; the ripples running around their sides resembled the tiers in skirts of old-fashioned ball gowns. Curvy, minuscule valleys flowed between the hills—tiny glens. Wee Scottish fairies could live here. I found it strange, beautiful rather than weird, and it quieted my soul. Irritation drained from my body and my pettiness faded.
    Stone circles of all sizes and names that people had spelled with the plentiful white rocks filled the tiny valleys. This place was a natural phenomenon, Ben had said, but it looked too perfect to be natural.
    I lay back on my jacket, arms tucked behind my head. The day had warmed up and the wind was almost nonexistent. I could have lain there for hours, but it wasn’t long until the nearby voices grew distant. I cracked open one eye. The others were far below and nearly back to the van. Climbing to my feet, I snapped a couple of photos and scrambled down the hill.
    Ben took the road around the northern edge of Skye, and my attention lost itself in the blues and aquas of the sea, the tiny houses settled in spots of pastured land, and the sheep munching on grass at the edge of the road. It was lovely, but why had Gerard chosen to be laid to rest on this island rather than at Glenbroch?
     
    Soon we turned off the main road and headed up a narrow single-track with tight switchbacks. As the road straightened out, Ben pulled into a parking area and we all piled out.
    “This area, the Quiraing, is part of the Trotternish Peninsula. It’s what is known as a landslip,” Ben said. “Originally I was going to take you a few minutes up the side here, but Li and Todd requested a longer hike. Ellie will lead you part of the way. I’ll drive the van back to the main road, walk up the other side to meet you, and we’ll make our way back to the van. Keep up a good pace, stay together, and the first and last person need to stay in sight of one another. This is an easy hike—a walk more like, with only one scramble. Any questions?”
    No one spoke.
    “Great! Grab a couple of photos and we’ll get going,” Ben said to the group, and then turned to me. “Ellie, I need to talk to you.”
    Planting my hands on my hips in defiance, I was far from convinced I should lead this group anywhere. “Exactly how wise is it to have me leading this group on a hike I’ve never been on myself?”
    “This is a simple walk. It’s safe. Kids do it all the time. And many tourists go on their own and the guides stay back at the vehicles. You can’t get lost.”
    I tried to sound disgruntled at being put on the spot, but I was excited to have an adventure. “Why do you need to park the van on the other side?”
    “Because it will take too much time to have everyone walk all the way across and back.” He glanced over at the group. “And I’m not sure every person is up for that long a hike. I’ll need to drive the van to the other side.”
    “That makes sense. You’re sure it’s not a big deal?”
    “There’s a burn and a couple of inclines but no cliffs or steep edges. You’ll be fine.”
    “I still think you should have talked to me before announcing it.”
    “You’re right.”
    “You owe me.” My eyes fixed on his.
    He leaned near. “I don’t mind being indebted to you.”
    The look in his eyes made me forget where I was. I swallowed and cleared my throat.
    “Is that a map?”
    “Right. I’ve drawn a wee map here to show you where I’ll meet up with