Page 3 of Back Where He Belongs

CHAPTER THREE

SAVIOUR

Forty minutes later and the landscape changed little. Kier topped another hill and was heading along a straight stretch of road for at least the next mile. A deep ditch with an iced-over stream ran along the side of the road, and the road itself was older with potholes on its frosted gravely surface. The snow that he’d sensed approach was now falling thick and fast. Twilight melted into inky darkness, and Kier was beginning to get anxious. It was too late for him to quicken his pace or start running. The road surface was becoming treacherously slippery and if he fell broke a bone he knew it would make his situation far worse. Once the snow completely covered the road, it would be hard to see the line of it, and with no point of reference on the horizon, when the light faded he would be well and truly stumbling in the dark.

The howl of the storm played tricks with Kier’s mind. He thought for a moment that he’d he heard a car. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Kier licked the snow from his lips, paused, and heard the sound again. He turned around to see a vehicle, headlights blazing, speeding up the road from the direction he’d come. A rush of warmth and joy erupted from his belly, and he let out a roar of thanks to God, or whoever had sent this motorist down this particular road when he needed him.

As the vehicle came closer, Kier stepped out into the middle of the highway and began waving his arms frantically to signal for the driver to stop. The car approached, slowed, and then pulled over.

With the blizzard still blinding him, Kier jogged around to the passenger door of the navy, old model Range Rover. The window of the car whirred down, he leaned in and, shivering he hollered. “Ah, Jesus am I glad to see you!” The wind caught his words and whipped them away with the flakes of snow.

The driver was male and wore a black bobble hat and heavy winter coat. He leaned forward into the passenger seat and peered out into the gloom and blizzard at the strange hiker wearing a Reindeer hat.

“Y’alright? D'ya wanna lift big man?” he called through the lash of the oncoming snow. Kier’s hazel eyes then met the sharp blue gaze of the driver.

“FRECKLE!” the driver hollered joyfully and immediately reached to open the car door.

Kier flinched with the match strike against his heart. A rush of inner warmth erupted at his core and awoke something that had been sleeping for a long time.

Kier stood there in the blinding snowfall, his teeth chattering, unable to believe how hard his heart started hammering in his chest at hearing his old affectionate name. There was only one man who called him Freckle and only in private.

“Dougie?” Kier exhaled the question.

“What the fuck are ye waitin’ for, Christmas? Get in the fucking car; mah nuts are freezing off.” Douglas cajoled.

Kier was shocked into movement. He opened the rear door and tossed his rucksack in, slammed the door and then slid into the passenger seat and pulled it closed. The immediacy of warmth inside the car was welcome, as was the warmth inside his chest.

Kier rubbed the snow from his bearded face and lashes and then looked to his right. His heart jolted as if he had been brought back to life by a defibrillator. The man sitting in the driving seat was wrapped up in coat, gloves, and a hat. He was looking at him with an expression of wry amusement on his face. Douglas was no longer his baby-faced best friend and ex-lover. Five years had seen him grow into his features, and the dark beard framing his jaw made him appear rugged and older than twenty-nine.

Douglas didn’t say a word; he just unclipped his seatbelt, turned in his seat and drew Kier into a warm, fierce, bear hug. An involuntary sob fell from Kier’s lips as he hugged Douglas back, matching the man’s ferocity. When they parted Douglas looked him over, shook his head, and then he refastened his seat belt and said, “Are ye Dasher or Dancer? Belt up, the storms getting worse. This is gonna be one hell o’ a ride”.

****

Kier fastened his seatbelt and laid his head back against the seat. He said nothing, not just because he was allowing Douglas the peace to concentrate on navigating the treacherous winding road to the village of Inchmabreck, Kier just didn’t know what to say. He was sitting with Douglas—My Dougie—and Kier’s throat tightened with emotion. He was numb with shock and after a few minutes to compose himself, he marveled at the stroke of luck that had been handed to him.

When the vehicle turned off the main Highland thoroughfare, and into a country road the driving became more hazardous. Not one car had been on this stretch of road since the snow started falling and at times their wheels spun trying to find the traction to move forward. The road meandered uphill and, edged by tall evergreen hedges, the glare of the headlights reflected off virgin snow and everywhere the beams touched was dusted in pure white.

“Was that yer car I saw a few miles back?” Douglas broke the silence. He reduced his speed and took a hairpin bend.

“Aye, piece of fuckin’ junk just conked out on me. I had to leave all of my Christmas pressies in the boot.”

“Well, there’s no way you’ll get it fixed tonight. You heading up te Inverness te yer folks?”

“That’s right. Are ye goin’ that far—to yer folks? It’s fine if yer not, just drop me in Inch. I’m sure to find a bed for the night at The Forge, and I’ll sort the car out in the morning.”

“Fat chance o’ that. Do you know it’s Christmas Eve?” Douglas exclaimed. “An, anyways, I don’t live in Invermaraanymore. We have a place a couple of miles outside of Rosbrae. Yer welcome to stay over.”

Tempting as it was, the words ‘No thanks,’ were on the tip of Kier’s tongue. He was shell-shocked from not only seeing his old flame but from the twisting in his gut at hearing Douglas speaking in terms of ‘we’ rather than ‘I.' Kier knew that Douglas must have moved on after five years apart and logically he had no right to be jealous. He was the one who’d wanted to go to Australia, and he had walked away from the only man he’d ever loved to follow that dream.

“Thanks, that’d be great. Save me from trying to find a room at the Inn for Christmas.” Kier’s mouth said, completely ignoring his better judgment.

“Yer not about to give birth to the second coming are ye?” Douglas scoffed. They both laughed.

“Nah, no baby making for me. I’ll leave the birthing to Agnes,” Kier shot back.

“Aye, I heard Aggie had a wee bairn. Congratulations, Uncle Freckle.” Douglas teased.

“Thanks,” Kier felt the flush of heat to his face at hearing Douglas use his nickname again. “He’s a wee heartbreaker already at four months old, born with a big shock o’ red hair too.”