But here there was none of that. Here there was fresh, cold air and thick, ancient walls, and the breathtaking, raw beauty of the Highlands. The colors of fall reigned here, as though the very rocks had rusted, moss grew everywhere, and leaves were always aged. There was so much history—hundreds and thousands of years—and a part of her belonged here, too.
“Do you think any of our ancestors lived here?” Amy asked.
Jenny shrugged. “Maybe. Grandpa would have known.”
“Yeah, he would have.”
“Even Dad would probably—” Jenny suddenly stiffened, her mouth still open.
“It’s okay,” Amy said. “You can mention Dad. How is he?”
Jenny swallowed and looked at her hands. “Fine. Asking about you.”
Amy pursed her lips, her throat clenching. “Well, I’m asking about him, too, see? Is he still sober?”
“Yeah. Holding up.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“Yeah. Thank you for the money, by the way. Again.”
“Of course. You can’t support him alone on a teacher’s salary.”
It was hard to talk about Dad. To distract herself from the scratching in her throat, and to avoid Jenny’s grateful expression, Amy studied a bare bush growing by the wall to her right.
“I’m not alone. I have Dave—” Jenny’s eyes widened as she looked across the courtyard. “Hey! Zach! Stop it, get back down this minute!”
But Zach was already halfway up the pile of crumbled rocks, heading to the top of the tower, and not slowing down. Jenny jumped up and raced towards him, waving her arms and yelling for him to stop. Amy sat up straight, alert, just in case. Her hand brushed over the backpack, feeling the familiar shape of the first aid kit inside.
“What a bonnie wee crowd of children,” said a lilting female voice.
Amy glanced up, to her right. A young woman stood by the bare bush Amy had studied a moment ago. The air filled with the scent of lavender and freshly cut grass. How strange. Goose bumps covered her skin. She remembered having a similar feeling whenever she and Jenny had told each other ghost stories—suddenly the shadows had grown darker in the corners of the room, and she could almost see shapes she hadn’t noticed before.
The woman was pretty, her features delicate, her skin translucent, with tiny freckles like a sprinkling of ground cinnamon on her nose and cheeks. A dark-green woolen cloak hung from her shoulders, and the hood of a cape covered her bright-copper hair.
“Yeah,” Amy said. Her jaw must have lost the ability to close.
She studied the northern entrance which was ten feet or so away. Was that how the woman had slipped in unnoticed?
“They are a bonnie…crowd,” Amy said.
Zach was already on top and began singing, “‘Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light…’”
“What is he singing?” the woman said. “I like that song…”
She swayed her head a little from side to side with the broken rhythm of Zach’s bellowing.
“Erm… It’s the American anthem…” Amy said.
“Oh. The American anthem. I shall remember that song.”
Amy smiled politely. Who was the woman? She seemed to be dressed in a historical costume underneath the cloak, a long green woolen skirt and a white shift that showed just a little from beneath the hem.
“I like your costume,” Amy said. “Are you a tour guide?”
“A tour guide?” The woman laughed. “I suppose ye might say so. My name is Sìneag. What about ye?”
“Amy.”
Zach continued yelling, “‘And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air…’”
He stepped back and lost his balance a little, and the small crowd of his schoolmates, led by Jenny, yelped.
“Come down, Zach! Right now!” Jenny cried. “Or no phone till the end of the trip.”
But Zach’s eyes were only on Deanna, who sang with him.
“Aw, looks like he is in love,” Sìneag said.
Amy chuckled. “I doubt it’s love. He craves attention, like all boys his age, that’s all.”
“Oh, aye? Do ye ken love?”
Amy crossed her arms over her chest. Sìneag was local, no doubt, so maybe it was normal here to skip the small talk and get straight to the deep stuff.
“Do I know love? I was in love. Who wasn’t?”
“But ye havna met yer man yet…” Sìneag said slowly and rubbed her chin.
“My man?” Amy laughed.
“Aye, the one man that ye truly love. The one ye change for. The one that ye want to die on the same day with. The one ye are ready to cross countries, oceans, mountains…and even the river of time for.”
Amy sighed with a smile. “Sìneag, you are terribly romantic. I definitely don’t have a man like that, nor will I ever have a man like that. The relationship you describe doesn’t exist.”
Sìneag cocked her head. “Why so sure, Amy?”
“Because I was already married, and now I’m divorced. And I had thought he was my soul mate. So trust me, I know what you describe is impossible.”
“Do ye now?” Sìneag studied Amy thoughtfully. “Do ye ken how this castle was built?”
“I read on the information board right there—built by the powerful Comyn clan in the thirteenth century—”
“Aye, but do ye ken it was built upon a stronghold of the Picts?”
Amy raised her eyebrows. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“Oh, aye. And those Picts, they kent powerful magic. They could open the river of time and build a secret tunnel under it to help people pass through.”
Amy smiled. Adorable. She enjoyed fairy tales.
“Do you mean like time travel?”
“Aye. A journey through time.”
“Fun! I’ve never heard myths and tales about time travel. Usually you have the ‘Hansel and Gretel’ sort of stories, with a cannibal witch and lost children… How does this one go?”
“Well, the castle was built upon a rock that can open such a tunnel. It takes a person with a purpose to reopen it and take the journey.”
“So did anyone travel in time?”
“Who kens? They might have. And they might again.”
Sìneag’s smile grew a little mischievous, and Amy raised her eyebrows. “Might?”
“There was once a Highlander here, a Craig Cambel. A mighty warrior, and an honorable man. Do ye ken of King Robert the Bruce?”
Amy wondered why Sìneag didn’t answer her question directly, but maybe she was leading into the story of time travel.
“The Wars of Scottish Independence, right?” Amy said. “It said on the information board, he took Inverlochy Castle from the Comyns.”
“Aye. Cambels—they’re called Campbells these days—were his allies. King Robert asked Craig to guard the castle for him against his enemies.”
Amy chuckled. “Must be an important man, that Craig.”
“Aye, he was a man of high achievements, but with a deep sorrow in his heart. Clan MacDougall betrayed him and his family, and it scarred him for life. He swore never to trust so easily again.”