KILT TO LAST: A Scottish Short Story

Kate tucked her pink pack in the overhead compartment of the train heading for Inverness. It was perhaps too youthful for forty-six—her ex would’ve called it frivolous—but it made her feel like the woman she’d once been. Adventurous. Confident. Playful.

Outside the window, the lush Scottish countryside unfurled in lazy, emerald hills. The pewter clouds should’ve been morose but made her feel like she could reach out and touch the sky instead.

As Kate settled in, a man slid into the seat opposite her. His wavy hair was the brown of late autumn leaves, silvering at the temples. His close-trimmed beard and bright blue eyes snagged all her attention.

“Hullo,” he said with an easy smile she didn’t have to coax out. Her stomach lifted at that easiness, tiny butterfly wings she’d been sure she’d never feel again.

“Hi. I’m Kate.”

“Walker.” He reached across the table, taking her hand in his, his grip soft and warm. Reassuring. He tipped his head in question. “What brings you to Scotland?” he asked, clearly tracking her American accent.

Kate almost said, “Vacation,” but for once, she had no desire to hold back, to keep herself to her self. There was something about this stranger that made her want to share. “A belated honeymoon.” Walker’s gaze slid down the aisle, presumably looking for a husband he would never find on this side of the Atlantic. “Solo,” she clarified.

“I’m sorry. Or, congratulations. Whichever you prefer,” he said, and his eyes, light blue like beach glass, met hers with a softness and understanding she’d been missing for so long. Like he heard her words, read her subtext, empathized. She noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

“Not quite the trip I’d envisioned.”

“Life has a way of not giving a toss about our plans,” Walker said, his brogue warm and full of electricity.

“My daughter got married last week.” Found a bright love. Worn a satin gown. “She’s twenty-three. And I struggled not to ask, ‘Are you really sure?’” Kate had married young, put off a honeymoon with a baby on the way, saved into a special bank account so she didn’t lose it to car payments and laundry detergent and a million insignificant things.

But in the end, it hadn’t mattered.

“Och, my son started uni this year.” Walker shook his head with a small smile. “They think they know everything. But sometimes I envy his recklessness and wonder when I started weighing the costs so heavily that I stopped seeking adventure.”

Kate blinked back the tears that smudged the landscape out the train window into pastel greens and blues. Walker spoke to the exact regret she’d been grappling with these past eighteen months. The disappointment that she’d let herself become a person who valued stability over everything else.

“Exactly,” Kate said. “And doubting if I could still drive into Chicago, let alone travel by myself.”

Walker leaned across the tan table on his forearms, not into her space, but closer, shrinking her world to the light blue fabric of a button-up stretching over biceps, a full bottom lip, a heavy gaze. “And yet, here you are.”

A tiny thrill fizzed inside her. Because she was taking a risk. And filling her soul and finding a spark of connection with this man who suddenly didn’t feel like a stranger at all.

“It’s very brave,” Walker said, an admiration shining in his eyes that stole her breath before tucking in softly against her heart.

“Thank you.”

Walker straightened. “What’s on your itinerary in Inverness, then?”

“A week of touristy things. Loch Ness, Leakey’s Bookshop, Inverness Cathedral.”

“You’re in luck. The last Thursday of the month, the bellringers have practice.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“No, they’re actually quite terrible. Goes on for hours.”

Kate laughed, feeling free and light. She loved the way his eyes crinkled in response, that unguarded stare centered on her like he was studying her details the way she wanted to catalogue his. “I was going to ask you for recommendations but now I’m not so sure.”

Walker’s smile hitched up on one side before he ran his knuckles over his chin as he thought. “Black Isle Bar has a secret rooftop garden with twinkle lights and trellises.” He dipped his head and a wayward curl fell over his forehead. “The footbridges along the River Ness are quite lovely. And skip the boat trips to Loch Ness and opt for The Dores Inn. Very quaint, especially if you catch the sunset from the beach.”

Kate couldn’t stop her imagination from spinning up an image of Walker beside her on the shore, cast in sunset bronze. “You’re quite the expert.”

“I should hope so. I was born and raised here.”

A voice came over the intercom announcing their impending arrival and other travelers fussed with bags in the overhead rack and slipped back into discarded jackets. Kate’s heart sped up as the train slowed down, not wanting this to be over. Not sure if she was brave enough to ask to see him again.

She collected her pack and followed him off the train, delicate purple flowers bobbing in the breeze on the platform.

Walker turned. “Are you hungry?” He reached for her, fingertips sliding over the sensitive skin of her wrist, before his hand cupped hers. “Or, we could go explore.”