Authors Interviewing Characters: Kelli Estes
By Kelli Estes
In the magnificent Scottish Highlands, two devoted mothers separated by centuries discover a haunting connection in a gripping novel by the USA Today bestselling author of The Girl Who Wrote in Silk.
Struggling with the tragic end of her marriage, Keaka Denney is on a bittersweet adventure in Scotland with her son, Colin. She’s joining him on a weeklong hike along the West Highland Way before he enters university in Glasgow. Soon into the journey, Keaka’s disquieting visions begin―a woman from ages past reaching for Colin, a burning cottage, violence.
Scotland, 1801. After Sorcha Chisholm and her son are wrenched from their home in a brutal eviction, they face an arduous trek toward a new beginning. When Sorcha learns she’s wanted for a murder she didn’t commit, she and her son run for their lives. Then help arrives from the strangest woman in the most unexpected ways.
Centuries apart, Keaka and Sorcha walk the same path―devoted mothers in circumstances beyond their control who’ll do anything to keep their sons safe. Defying logic, they find strength in each other. But what does their connection mean? And how far will it go?
Author Kelli Estes meets her character, Keaka Denney, on the West Highland Way:
“Hi Keaka, thanks for letting me walk with you on the trail today.”
Keaka’s gaze darts ahead to where her son, Colin, is walking with two blonde girls about his age. I wonder if she’d rather be walking with him than me, but then she shoots me a wide grin. “It’s good to have the company. Conversation helps keep my mind off my aching feet.”
I laugh with her, fully understanding her pain. My own feet protest each step, and my hips are starting to complain, too. I search for a topic to get our minds on something else. “What made the two of you want to walk the West Highland Way?”
A shadow passes over Keaka’s face but it’s quickly hidden as she looks down at the historic path at our feet. Purple heather edges both sides of the wide roadway and seems to continue for miles across the moody moorland. It’s gorgeous.
“Colin starts at the University of Glasgow in a couple weeks,” Keaka tells me. “So we’re spending our last week together on the trail. I’m not much of a hiker…” Her voice trails off and she glances at me as though to gauge whether she should say more.
I wait, silent, and listen to the sound of our boots crunching on the gravel and the wind whistling past my ears. I’m grateful for the wind today for keeping the midges from flying. Yesterday was calm and they drove me nuts with their bites and way of swarming around my face.
“My husband passed away last November,” she blurts, surprising me so much that I stop walking.
“Oh. Wow. I’m so sorry.” I hurry to catch up to her. “That must be hard.”
“Yeah.” She’s walking faster now, almost angrily. “He was supposed to do this hike with Colin. They’d planned it for years. But he died and now I’m here and, after dropping Colin off at school, I’ll go home to the States alone.”
I sense there’s more to the story, but I don’t want to pry. We walk in silence for a while and it’s peaceful. She seems in her head, though, which makes me wonder if she’s even noticing the stunning mountains on our left or the small loch sparkling in the distance on our right. I decide to ask a question. “Are you enjoying the walk?” I wait a beat and then, to lighten the mood, add, “I loved that stretch a few days ago along the northeastern shore of Loch Lomond. It almost kicked my behind, though.”
She laughs along with me and agrees that section was rough. “I think what I’m enjoying the most is the sense that this land must look very similar to how it did a hundred years ago. Two hundred years ago. History feels so alive here.”
I notice her looking intently at a large stone to the side of the trail. It’s too pointed to serve as a seat to take a rest, so I’m stumped as to what is so interesting about it to her. I’m just about to ask if she wants to take a break when she suddenly squats in front of the rock and pushes aside some tall grasses growing in front of it.
“What are you doing?”
She doesn’t immediately answer, but I hear her mutter something under her breath before she pushes back to her feet. “Oh, nothing. I’ve just been noticing some interesting rock carvings along the trail and thought I saw one on that rock. There’s nothing there, though.” She resumes walking but slides a questioning glance my way. “Have you seen any of them?”
I shake my head, feeling a bit jealous of her. I’m a huge fan of Scottish history and folklore and I would die to find a rock carving in the wild. “No, I haven’t. I’ll have to keep my eyes peeled a bit more from now on.”
“Do you ever feel like if you squint just right, you’ll be able to see the spirits of people who’ve walked here before us?”
“You mean, like, ghosts?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”
“I feel the weight of history in so many places here in Scotland. Who knows? Maybe there’s someone from the past walking with us right now.”
Keaka glances over her shoulder back to the stone we’d passed. “Yeah, maybe.”
She faces forward again but then stops in her tracks with a sharp inhale. “Oh my god. Have you ever seen anything so breathtaking?”
I follow her gaze and, for the first time, see a huge pyramid-shaped mountain jutting from the floor of the moor. The sun is setting behind it and washing the sky in pinks and oranges and blues.
“That.” I breathe. “That is why I’m hiking this trail. Moments like this one.”
We fall silent as we take it in. The teenagers ahead of us have also stopped and are taking photos with their phone cameras. I think about digging out my own phone, but some views demand you be fully present. I don’t want to miss a second of this sunset.
Keaka must feel awe in the moment, too, because she softly murmurs, as though afraid of breaking the spell, “I’m starting to understand why my husband and son love this place so much.”
I can’t find anything about this country that I don’t love, and I consider asking her what her resistance to it is, but I stay silent. Together we stare at the huge mountain and epic sunset, lost in our own thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~
Kelli Estes is the USA Today bestselling author of The Girl Who Wrote in Silk, which has been translated into eleven languages, was the recipient of the Pacific Northwest Writers Association Nancy Pearl Book Award and the Women’s Fiction Writers Association STAR Award, and is currently under option for film/TV; and Today We Go Home, a nationwide Target Book Club pick. Kelli is passionate about stories that show how history is still relevant to our lives today. Her lifelong love of Scotland has her learning the Scottish Gaelic language and the Scottish fiddle (both badly, but she’s working on it). She has walked three of Scotland’s long-distance trails (so far) and is currently planning the next. Kelli lives in Washington State with her husband and two sons. Her novel SMOKE ON THE WIND is available now.
SMOKE ON THE WIND
In the magnificent Scottish Highlands, two devoted mothers separated by centuries discover a haunting connection in a gripping novel by the USA Today bestselling author of The Girl Who Wrote in Silk.
Struggling with the tragic end of her marriage, Keaka Denney is on a bittersweet adventure in Scotland with her son, Colin. She’s joining him on a weeklong hike along the West Highland Way before he enters university in Glasgow. Soon into the journey, Keaka’s disquieting visions begin―a woman from ages past reaching for Colin, a burning cottage, violence.
Scotland, 1801. After Sorcha Chisholm and her son are wrenched from their home in a brutal eviction, they face an arduous trek toward a new beginning. When Sorcha learns she’s wanted for a murder she didn’t commit, she and her son run for their lives. Then help arrives from the strangest woman in the most unexpected ways.
Centuries apart, Keaka and Sorcha walk the same path―devoted mothers in circumstances beyond their control who will do anything to keep their sons safe. Defying logic, they find strength in each other. But what does their connection mean? And how far will it go?
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Category: On Writing
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