The anticipation of their impending trip home was nearing conclusion. In just one week, Colleen and Noah would be on a plane back to New Orleans, and their news, public.
Her usual optimism had been replaced by an uncomfortable sullenness, one Noah picked up on. He didn’t ask her about it. Instead, he found ways to bring her back to herself without saying a thing.
“Let’s go to Skye,” he whispered to Colleen one afternoon, as she lost herself in an anatomy textbook.
She snapped the tome closed and smiled. “You always have the best ideas.”
The world was a blanket of violet heather. Rain showered upon the earth, inch after inch, bringing summer floods and havocked roads. Colleen wrung her hands in anxiousness, thinking of Madeline. Never again would riding in a car feel the same to her, and Maddy would always be front of mind whenever the roads felt dangerous.
Noah pressed his hand against her knee, insisting they could turn around, that Skye would be there at the end of summer. He didn’t mention Maddy, but he knew about her fears, and their connection to her own tragedy.
Colleen’s objective to serve her family did not include cowardice, though. Madeline’s tragic death had been a painful occurrence, not a tether, preventing her from living her life. If Noah’s presence had taught her anything, it was the need to open her eyes. Her horizons need not be narrow or fearful.
Outside of Glasgow, the rain turned to downpour. Noah pulled off the road at a rest stop to wait for the worst to pass. They huddled together in the car, rubbing their hands over the heater vents.
“New Orleans doesn’t sound so bad right now, eh?” he joked.
“Just our luck, we’ll bring the rain there.”
When the rain didn’t subside, they rented a hotel room on the outskirts of the city. Colleen allowed herself to succumb to her latent grief over her sister, which had been cruelly triggered by the hazardous drive. It snuck up on her, in a tremendous wave, and it was as if Maddy had died just that morning. She’d allowed herself almost no time for grief years earlier, and her sadness now came from that same suppressed well. Noah held her all night as she cried. He never pretended to assure her the sadness would end, only that he would love her through it. That he would love her through anything.
Nor did he ask again if she wanted to turn back.
The sun broke through the storm the next morning. Hopeful, they journeyed on, making it as far as Glencoe before the clouds turned dark and the heavens again rained down. Narrow Highland roads were flooded from two days of heavy downpour, and Noah slowed the car to a crawl, the Vauxhall gliding more over water than roads.
“This has to be a joke.” Noah butted his palm against the steering wheel. “This is insane.”
“We need to find another place to stop.” Colleen’s voice stammered, her panic rising to something she’d never experienced before: a premonition they were headed down a dreadful path.
“I know,” Noah replied, jaw clenched. His knuckles, white and unsteady, gripped the wheel. “I can’t see a damn thing. If you spot anything, tell me.”
All Colleen saw through the storm was the green rise and fall of the glen, and flocks of sheep and Highland cows grazing. The road ahead had disappeared beyond a handful of feet to their front and gentle sloping land on the sides.
“There should be—” was all Colleen got out before the unexpected bend in the road came upon them. The glided, out beyond the safety railing. The sick crash of metal bounced through her skull and blocked out all other sound or sensation.
Silence. The air stilled. Time slowed. Lightheaded, she had the distinct sensation of floating, a feeling unique to her dreams. In the driver’s seat, Noah’s head tilted back and his mouth gaped, as if screaming, but she heard nothing but the peacefulness of drifting.
Then, with a suddenness immeasurable by time, the serenity in Colleen’s mind turned to a thud couched in a blackness that wrapped around her entire world.
Colleen’s skull lobbed forward, her neck struggling to support the weight. She had no pain, no fear. Her capable senses helped immediately assess the situation as a result of her shock. She would need to further evaluate the extent of her injuries because she knew the endorphins would only carry her so far. They could be deceptive.
Her vision swam in and out of focus as her head dropped to the right toward Noah, toward… she blinked the blurring away, pleading with her mind to reconcile what her eyes witnessed: a piece of the steel guardrail protruding from Noah’s chest.
“No,” she whispered, coughing up a spray of blood. “No, no, no, no, no. Noah. Noah!”
Colleen unhinged her seat belt and concentrated on seeing herself whole and healthy. Cells reproducing, muscles repairing. Bones snapping into place. The pain hit her, but she bit it back, terrified, determined.
She said a silent prayer before maneuvering to face the driver’s seat, where Noah lay silent, unmoving.
His chest rose. Her hand against his neck revealed his pulse was slow, but there. She exhaled in relief and didn’t think about anything that happened next as she laid hands on him.
With a gasp and a heave, the metal expelled itself from Noah’s chest, and he rolled forward against the wheel. Colleen didn’t let go. Her hands stayed true even as he jerked and convulsed; red and white blood cells replicated and spread, restoring his life force.
“Oh,” Noah said with his first breath when air filled his lungs. “What…” He passed out again.
Colleen awoke to fluorescent lights against speckled panels, voices around her, the smell of iodine and fresh linens. “Noah.” Her voice cracked, but no one heard.
“You’re safe, lassie,” a man’s voice told her, later. “You both are.”
No, she thought, her soul twisting, I’ve saved our bodies at the expense of our hearts.
Later, when Colleen was allowed to leave her room, she ventured to Noah’s, only to find him discharged. His bed was made up for the next patient, but the nurse said he’d left her a note.
It said only, I told you I could love you through anything, but I guess you’ve made a liar of me. If you’d told me months ago that you’d sold yourself to the devil, we could have saved both of us a lot of heartache. I’ll try to recover our deposit, and with that, I’ll repay you for the plane ticket. I don’t want to owe you anything, or give you any reason to come find me.
Colleen didn’t remember how she got back to Edinburgh. Someone, some kind soul, she thought. All she remembered was the endless green outside her window, fogged by her grief.
Noah moved fast. All his things were gone from her apartment, and the key slid back under the locked door.
No note this time. He’d already said what he needed to say.
If you’d told me months ago that you’d sold yourself to the devil.
She’d saved his life! Yes, she’d lied, but it was for this very reason. Without realizing it, he’d proven to be exactly who she feared he was all along: a man of a big heart, but a very narrow mind.
That night, she called Evangeline and poured her heart out. She left out no details, and when she was done, she fell asleep with the phone still cradled to her tear-stained cheek.
Dearest Colleen,
You haven’t been picking up the phone since the night you called me. I understand, though. My heart breaks for you, and it’s been on my mind nonstop since we talked. Is there no way to fix this? Surely when he called you a witch, it was a heat-of-the-moment comment, not something he meant with conviction. You saved his life. How can he turn his back on you so callously? Has he really been avoiding you since the accident?
On second thought, maybe he doesn’t deserve you. The more I think about his treatment of you, the more my anger boils. You’ve always been the caretaker for everyone. When Mama is gone, you’ll probably be the one who keeps this entire family together. You’re selfless and kind and the best sister anyone could ever ask for. And Noah is a fool because you’d make the best wife he could ever hope for, too.
I’m so sad that your trip home was canceled. Not for me, since I wasn’t going to be there anyway, but I know you were really excited to meet Olivia and Nicolas. Charles offered to buy me a ticket to come see you, and I think I should. I’m ahead in all my classes, so a few days away in the fall won’t hurt. I know you, and you’ll throw me out the window, though, if I come without your permission, so please, give me your permission. Okay? I love you. We’ll get through this together, same as we always have.
Love, Evie