Having been raised by a bachelor, Roger sort of looks to Claire and Jamie for a model of what marriage looks like. Likewise, Bree's model was of a "marriage of obligation" until she met Jamie. In the books, they both observe Jamie and Claire having positive interactions, but what do they make of Jamie and Claire's fights?
“What is it they’re arguin’ over?” Roger whispered to Brianna.
“They haven’t said a word,” Brianna murmured with amazement.
Jamie and Claire moved about the yard in a careful dance of pointed looks and close brushes with one another. But rather than their usual reverent touches – a casual hand on the small of Claire’s back or gentle brushing of dirt from Jamie’s arm – there was a deliberate absence of such gestures on both sides.
“No a word to ye in private either?” Roger pressed.
“Nope. Mama just came into the kitchen this morning in a mood and I could hear Da muttering in Gaelic when he went by the window,” Bree explained. She shook her head and adjusted Jemmy’s weight on her hip as he lurched for Roger expecting more attention than his mother was willing to pay him in the moment.
Roger took Jemmy, untucking the ends of his neckcloth for the toddler to play with, keeping his own attention on Jamie and Claire.
“I thought yer father was teachin’ ye the Gaidhlig,” Roger teased.
Brianna snorted. “Oh I understood a few of the things he said but not because he taught them to me intentionally. Maybe you should go talk to him,” she suggested as her mirth faded. “Maybe they just need to talk to someone about it – get whatever it is out in the open.”
“And I’m yer sacrificial lamb? I don’ think so. I’m no about to come between ‘em when they’re like this. I’d say it already is in the open between them and it’s their business to sort.”
“And ours to just speculate about?” Brianna snapped and rolled her eyes.
“Would ye want the pair of them inserting themselves in a quarrel ‘tween the two of us?” Roger turned it around.
Brianna shrugged. “That would depend on the quarrel and whose side they were on.”
“Meanin’ ye’d want their support were it behind you and ye’d tell them to bugger off did they agree wi’ me,” Roger summarized with a roll of his eyes. “Aye, ye’re a Fraser alright.”
“Actually, from all I’ve heard, that would be the Mackenzie blood in action – of which, you have your fair share.”
Brianna and Roger had let their teasing draw their attention toward one another and away from Jamie and Claire but a loud exclamation from Claire quickly drew it back.
Claire was shaking off Jamie’s grip on her arm. The unspoken rule against touching had been broken but from Jamie’s heated self defense Claire managed to put herself in his face (a feat given how much shorter she stood) it appeared to have been some protective, instinctive act.
“Oh geez,” Brianna muttered, glancing to Jemmy in Roger’s arms (The toddler was still gnawing on his father’s neckcloth, soaking it with drool.) “You don’t think they’ll come to blows over whatever it is, do you? At Lallybroch I heard things got physical between them when Mama learned about Laoghaire.”
“Did ye hear in what way it got physical?” Roger asked, an eyebrow raised as he watched his wife’s parents.
Jamie looked red in the face and if Roger had to place it he would have said the color was down to the man’s embarrassment as much as anger… and given how often he’d seen that combination on Brianna’s face, he was pretty confident she recognized it too.
Claire laughed, a clear and bright sound ringing through the clearing and breaking the tense atmosphere. Jamie was clearly struggling to hold onto his anger or frustration – or maybe it had been indignation. It was impossible to tell as Claire reached up to brush something from his shoulder, the loving hand and tidying touch an olive branch of sorts.
Jamie submitted, cracking a smile and listening to Claire as she inched closer and the tidying touch became a caress, her hand sliding to his neck and up to cup his cheek.
Whatever she said had Jamie laughing a second later and sweeping Claire into his arms another second after that. He spun them around once, twice before setting Claire’s feet back on the ground and capturing her mouth in a kiss, finally releasing her for good.
“Amazing,” Roger breathed as the pair of them watched Jamie and Claire resume their same routine, this time going out of their way to touch, to keep in proximity to one another – to make up for those shunned opportunities just a few minutes earlier.
“I want to fight like that,” Brianna said with a sigh. Then she caught Roger’s skeptical expression. “Let me rephrase that – I want to be able to make up from a fight like that. They make it look so easy.”
Roger nodded slowly, finally rescuing his sodden neckcloth from Jemmy’s mouth.
“I’m sure it wasna so easy as it looked. I think they perhaps only ken each other and themselves so well,” Roger speculated. “And if that’s what it takes, I have faith we’ll fight and make up in a similar fashion in time. Though, I’d rather try to avoid practicin’ too much on the former. The makin’ up part I’ll give a go if ye like.”
Brianna laughed and moved to take Jemmy from Roger. He could use a nap and the scene in the yard no longer held her active interest.
“We can pretend to fight later when this one is down for the night so long as our ‘making up’ practice doesn’t wake him up. Otherwise any pretend fight might be less ‘pretend’ than intended.”
Anonymous asked: #15 a Hope we Don't Get Caught Kiss
This is a part of a series of ficlets I’m writing in answer to THIS post. Enjoy! This particular one turned into a wee prelude to THIS series.
“Shh!” she whispered harshly, closing the front door behind him. “No one’s home!”
“This is maybe no’ the best idea...”
“Shut up!”
Grasping his warm hand in hers, she pulled him through the house and up the stairs. He complained quietly the whole time, but she ignored him. At the top of the stairs, she stopped and turned to him, smiling.
“Mam and Da are wi’ Auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian. They willna be home for a while.”
“Bree... If we’re the only ones here, why are ye whispering?”
She huffed and took both his hands in hers, pulling him into her room. When Roger didn’t kiss her back, she stepped away and looked up at him.
“Ye said ye loved me,” she said quietly.
“Aye! Aye I do! But don’t ye want your first time to be... special?”
Frowning in confusion, she took another step back.
“It’s wi’ you. It’ll be special. I love you.”
Then his eyes warmed and she smiled, knowing that look. She’d won.
As his arms came around her, she grinned against his lips. With a gentleness she didn’t know he had, he laid her down on her bed. How many times had she woken up from a dream about him? Far too many. In this very bed. But this, now... This was better than a dream.
They wriggled beneath the sheets and she couldn’t help giggling. Her body tingled as his hands explored beneath her shirt. Desperate to move this along, she pulled her shirt off and began tugging at his.
“Easy there,” Roger chuckled. “I’ll no’ rush this.”
Then he was kissing her again, slowly. One hand slid around her body and fumbled with the hook of her bra. She sat up a little, trying to give him space. When she felt it release, she looked up to meet his eyes.
“Are ye still sure ye want this?”
“Aye,” she breathed, pulling the garment off and dropping it over the side of the bed. “I am. Wi’ you.”
After some awkward fumbling, she got her jeans off and over the side before moving to his. He’d just begun to kiss her again when the door burst open.
Imagine a still-angry Bree went to Craig na dun straight after Claire told her everything, to check out her mother's story, fell through the stones by mistake and met Jamie first.
The High Road and the Low Road - Part One
Brianna needed to get out of the house and just… away. She couldn’t stand to look at her mother just then and when she’d turned to Roger she’d been disappointed by what she found there. She’d thought they understood one another, thought he’d be on her side – the reasonable side.
But there had been something in his face as he looked at Claire Randall. If not outright belief in the ridiculous story she’d concocted to cover up an affair, then he’d at least been looking at her mother like he wanted to believe her.
And that was the last thing Brianna wanted right then.
It was Roger’s car. She’d seen him drop the keys in a bowl on the counter when they’d arrived. She looked at the gauge and saw there was a little less than half a tank left. She’d be good for a while. Not that she knew where she was going to go. It just had to be away – and preferably somewhere she could scream where no one would call the police.
Taking Roger’s car would slow them down if they tried to follow her.
Not if. When.
She didn’t mean to make it easy for them to find her.
As soon as she reached the main road, she headed in a direction that would take her away from town and began repeating aloud, “Left side of the road, left side of the road.”
The need to focus on fighting her American instincts and keep from drifting to the other lane actually helped her to calm down. A little.
She slammed on the brakes when she saw the sign, wincing when a horn blared behind her and another car flew past.
But then she was along and the rage returned. Craigh na dun. It was absurd that anyone could believe what her mother had said. It was absurd that the very thought of seeing the place was twisting her stomach into knots.
Gritting her teeth, Brianna put the car back in gear and sped in the direction of the signs. She would see these stones for herself if only to quell that feeling in her stomach, to be able to return to her mother and Roger and give them another telling off.
It was falling dark as Brianna reached the bottom of the hill and she could just make out the moon peeking between the low tree branches and the standing stones. The bravado of the drive shrank at the eerie sight.
But there was a stubborn streak that kept her feet moving toward the stones.
Her ears began to ring and her head to spin as she reached the center of the circle and touched the largest stone.
Pain. In her hand and arm and head. The buzzing in her ears became a scream and it was only as she felt her throat ache she realized she was the one who was screaming.
Her last thought before passing out was that her mother’s description of it all had fallen woefully short.
*********************************************
She wanted to throw up from fear as much as the nausea in her belly and the ringing headache that threatened to send her back under as soon as she tried to sit up.
Brianna scrambled backward, away from the stone, to the edge of the circle. The moon still shone in the sky and the stars seemed brighter too.
A few deep breaths helped to steady her enough to get to her feet. She brushed away grass and dirt that clung to the corduroy of her skirt.
Turning on her heel, she carefully made her way down the side of the hill in the direction where she’d left the car. With every step she scolded herself for being ridiculous and gullible enough to have let her mother’s tales affect her in such a way. With every step the buzzing and nausea faded and it was easier to tell herself that she had imagined the whole thing.
She’d taken too many steps. She should have reached Roger’s car by now or at least the solidity of the paved road.
Brianna turned around, peering into the darkness. Maybe she’d gotten herself turned around and had come down the wrong side of the hill. Making a quarter turn and referencing the gentle incline of the hill, she did her best to circle the hilltop.
It only made her feel more lost. She would have to wait until it grew lighter to complete her investigation of the hillside. In the meantime, she was getting cold and any chance of a blanket or additional protection from the elements was in the impossible-to-locate-in-the-dark car. (Why did Roger have to own a brown car? Why couldn’t it have been white and reflective?)
She couldn’t just lie down in the open. Looking around, she saw a faint light in the distance and made her way toward it. It didn’t appear to be moving, so not a car. It was dim, muted, so maybe a house with its curtains closed. But she didn’t think there were any houses this close to Craigh na Dun. She hadn’t noticed any as she passed to get there, anyway, but she was hardly an expert on the area and who lived there or where. She just needed someone who could loan her a flashlight or who had a telephone she could use (worrying her mother and Roger a little was one thing but she couldn’t let them go the whole night wondering where she’d gone).
Drawing nearer, Brianna was confused. It wasn’t a house – it would barely qualify as a shack. There was no door – well, no door left but old fashioned hinges clung to the frame to show there had been a door at one time. The roof appeared to have partially caved in but on the opposite side from where a short chimney stuck out with a faint trail of smoke rising from it.
Someone must be inside if a fire was lit but was it safe to casually announce her presence?
“Hello?” she called softly, approaching slowly now. “Anybody home? I uh… I’ve gotten myself a bit lost and can’t find the car in the dark – accidentally locked my flash – my torch inside. Do you have one you might… let me… borrow?”
There had been no sound, no sign of movement as she reached the door and decided to poke her head inside.
A low fire burned in a hearth that looked like it might collapse in on itself at any moment.
A figure was curled on its side on the dirt floor in front of the hearth. It was a boy – probably only a few years younger than herself. Maybe this was some play fort or campsite for him.
Brianna inched closer to the sleeping boy. “Hey… you,” she hissed but he didn’t stir. She gently nudged him with the toe of her boot.
Startled awake and confused, the boy rolled toward her with a threatening cry and a dagger in his hand, apparently ready to stab her.
“Whoa!” Brianna exclaimed, jumping back. “I don’t want trouble,” she promised. “Just looking for a little help is all.”
The boy calmed and relaxed as he woke further and realized he wasn’t actually being attacked.
“Ye scared the piss right out of me,” he told her, returning the dagger to a safe and concealed place in his belt.
“Who are you?” Brianna asked, stepping forward as the boy got to his feet.
“Ian Murray, ma’am,” he said, smiling and inclining his head toward her. “And what should I call you?”
“Brianna, but you can call me Bree.”
*********************************************
Claire hadn’t gone to bed and so Roger hadn’t either (though, he had dozed off and on in his chair by the fire). She spend most of the night staring out the window, watching for any sign of Brianna’s return.
Around five, the light finally beginning to show signs of returning, Roger rose from the chair and stretched, back cracking as he yawned. He went to the kitchen to make tea and toast, returning with a simple tray to try and get Claire to eat something.
“She couldna have gotten far on thwart was left in that tank,” he explained. Brianna didn’t know how quickly the needle could drop from half a tank to empty. “It’s likely she ran out of petrol, pulled over and spent the night in the back. She’ll have to walk a ways to a phone or wait till someone comes along as can give her a ride.” He offered Claire a steaming cup.
She took it, forcing a smile and nod of thanks before blowing on it but neglecting to take a sip.
“I want to believe you, Roger, but I’m afraid Bree is very much her father’s daughter… both of them. That display of temper was all Jamie… the running away afterward…”
“That ye think she learned from Frank?” Roger suggested.
With a sigh and another nod, Claire admitted, “Unfortunately, yes. And the last time we had a fight and he stormed off into the night, he was killed in a car accident.”
Roger felt his own teacup tremble in his hands at the thought. He set it down carefully as he apologized to Claire. “Christ, I hadna thought – I’m so sorry. If I’d realized – I should ha’ called someone to help and we could ha’ been searching for her through the night.”
Claire shook her head. “No, I’m sure she’s fine, like you said. Going after her might have only made matters worse anyhow. Frasers need to wear out their tempers a bit before you stand a chance of getting through to them.” At last she lifted her cup and took a sip of tea, closing her eyes as she swallowed and visibly willed herself to relax.
“Well, if she doesna return by lunch and hasna phoned, I’ll see if I can borrow Fiona’s car and you and I can look for her,” Roger promised. “Like I said, she couldna ha’ gone too far.”
As Claire smiled her thanks again, the telephone rang. Claire moved to get it before recalling it wasn’t her house and deferring to Roger.
He moved quickly and, expecting to hear Brianna on the other end, he answered, “Speak of the devil.”
“Roger?” Fiona’s voice replied.
Roger covered the receiver long enough to whisper to Claire, “Wrong devil.”
“Aye, I’m here,” he said louder to Fiona. “Sorry, it’s just… early.”
“Aye, tis and I wouldna have called so early – I’m a bit relieved ye answered at all. I was afraid… but ye’re there.”
“Aye, why would a not be?”
“Oh… well… Ye mayna ken but – ye see, my gran was part of a… a group. They’re… caretakers, ye might say. And since she passed, I took her place in the group.”
“Caretakers of what?”
“The standing circle at Craigh na Dun,” Fiona explained.
Roger felt himself growing colder, thought he must be paler from the step Claire took towards him.
“We take it in turns to visit them and see any rubbish is cleared up, that they’ve no been defaced and the like,” Fiona went on at a nervous clip.
Everything around Roger seemed to be slowing, narrowing to a point as his gaze fixed on Claire.
“Anyhow, I had a call this morning from… another member of the group. They said yer car had been found abandoned near the stones. I worried something might have happened to ye, but–”
“Brianna,” Roger managed to murmur.
“Brianna Randall?” Fiona asked.
“Brianna borrowed my car last night,” he explained. “She didna come home.”
I’m in desperate need of some Tagalong escapism. A happy family moment would be just the ticket. 🙏
anonymous asked: Has Tagalong Roger discovered his talent for music and singing yet? Imagine Jamie and Claire et al. realising Roger can sing like a thrush 😄
Tagalong One Shot #3
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty-One, Part Twenty-Two, Part Twenty-Three, Epilogue; One Shot #1; One Shot #2
******************************************
It began as a sort of game between Roger and Fergus when no one was around, a way to deal with Roger’s homesickness, especially in those first months. What things from their lives in the future did they miss the most? Football. Bicycles. Their friends from school. Going to the cinema. Listening to the radio.
Playing in the woods when their chores allowed, Roger would imitate the broadcasters or recall commercial jingles with a clarity that had Fergus doubling over with laughter.
But the underlying sadness was more than Fergus could help his friend with alone. So he volunteered them to help Claire on one of her gathering trips in the woods. When it was just the three of them, Fergus began the game and Claire joined in.
She had spent far more time in the future. Like Roger, she was of the future in a way neither he nor Brianna were (young as she was, she had already lost her memories of where and when she was born).
When the game petered out, they continued their scavenging quietly. At least, until Roger recognized the song Claire was humming and began to sing along.
He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way...
Fergus recognized the tune but couldn’t remember the words and certainly wouldn’t have sounded as good as Roger did.
Claire joined Roger, grinning along and dancing a little making both boys laugh.
When they’d finished the song, Claire complimented Roger on his singing and asked if he’d picked up any of the songs Mrs. Crook knew (she always sang quietly as she went about the kitchen, though she wasn’t particularly good).
Roger hadn’t but the seed was planted and Roger had a new hobby.
******************************************
“He has a surprise for us,” Claire informed Jamie as she tidied him up. There were dried leaves in his hair which needed to be trimmed or the dun bonnet would be useless for covering the distinctive hair of Red Jamie.
“And do ye have any idea of what his surprise may be?” Jamie asked. He winced as Willie gnawed on one of his fingers.
“Hold still,” Claire scolded, smiling behind Jamie’s back as their three-month-old son gurgled in his father’s lap. She knew how much it meant to Jamie to have been there for Willie from the beginning (how bittersweet that Brianna couldn’t remember being without him). It was also a minor miracle that Jenny had goaded him into giving up the cave for the priest hole while winter bore down on them.
And it would take another for her to convince Jamie it was safe enough for him to make an appearance at the Hogmanay festivities (having been so recently arrived the previous year, they’d kept the day as a family but learned of the tenants’ disappointment soon after). It would mean a great deal to so many for a glimpse of the true laird with his family reunited as the British army continued to raid and terrorize the countryside even three years after the loss at Culloden.
“As a matter of fact, I do know what it is, but telling you would mean ruining the surprise for both of us,” Claire informed Jamie, “And it means too much to Roger for me to do that so you will attend and you will be surprised. And you will enjoy yourself,” she tacked on as an afterthought.
Jamie rolled his eyes at Willin in the mirror. The babe ceased gnawing on Jamie’s finger in order to giggle.
“Alright. Time for you to have a proper wash so we can get the rest of this rat’s nest under control.” Claire took Willie from Jamie, holding him so he could watch as his father sighed and reluctantly stripped and climbed into the lukewarm tub, the chill in the room having quickly sapped the water of its heat.
******************************************
Despite Claire’s assertion, Jamie remained reluctant to risk being seen too publicly.
“I can stay above stairs wi’ Willie and Brianna,” he told Claire. “Have Roger tell ye when for the surprise and I’ll slip down for that bit.”
“If it makes you more comfortable, I believe you can enjoy his surprise from the banister upstairs,” Claire compromised. “I’ll let him know he’ll be able to spot you there.”
So Jamie made sure he was in place as a handful of tenants arrived for the modest festivities (given the universal hardships, the family had decided to rotate who would be invited year to year).
Willie was teething and fussy in Jamie’s arms as he looked around for Roger in the small crowd below. He spotted Fergus first. The lad was helping guide a few men bearing instruments to one side of the hall, ushering folks to clear the space for imminent dancing. Roger was close behind conversing with a man carrying a fiddle.
There was something in Roger’s arms but none of the others took it from him when the group settled in their places, laughing as young couples eagerly gathered ready to dance. Roger ended up shuffled off to the side but still stood with the players.
The largest and oldest of them looked around at the others, nodding as fiddles and flutes were raised. Then he motioned to Roger who began to beat a steady rhythm on his bodhrán. Soon the others joined in and the couples began to clap along and dance.
Jamie couldn’t follow the music itself very well, but he could pick out Roger and that steady bodhrán beat, keeping time for everyone else. At the end of the first piece, Roger glanced up to where Jamie stood at the railing with Willie. Jamie gave him a proud smile and nod, then lifted Willie’s hand in a wave. Willie fidgeted and bounced enthusiastically. He squealed with delight as they began the next piece.
Jamie stood watching through three more songs before carrying Willie off to put him to bed and check on Brianna. Besides, they’d be sending the firstfoot out soon and they’d want him safely tucked away for that.
Claire ushered Roger and Fergus up to bed a short time later, the festivities downstairs winding down.
“You played beautifully,” Claire told Roger, sitting at the edge of his bed and brushing his dark hair away from his eyes.
“Alec Mackinnon said he’d continue to teach me the songs he kens,” Roger said with a tired but somehow still excited yawn. “No just the bodhrán either. Though, it doesna quite feel like Hogmanay wi’out… you know.” He raised his eyebrows at Claire who smiled in a way Jamie recognized too well. She never wanted the children to think she was laughing at them, no matter how amusing the things they said might be.
“You’ve done very well not to say anything about it,” Claire commended him. “But now it’s just us. It should be safe now and, I agree, it doesn’t feel complete without it,” she said with a conspiratorial glance to Jamie and Fergus who were both baffled.
Roger smiled and sat up in bed. Fergus lounged with his head propped up on his hand. Jamie took a seat next to Brianna’s cot where she and Willie slept. They’d take Willie to his cradle when they returned to their own room for the night.
“Softly now,” Claire reminded Roger before nodding for him to start.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot…
Claire dropped off after the first chorus but Roger remembered and sang the second and third verses as well.
“You sing as beautifully as you play,” Claire assured him. “Like a songbird.”
“A smeóraich,” Jamie agreed. When Claire gave him a confused look, he explained, “A thrush.”
“Time for bed, smor– how do you say it again?”
Jamie repeated it for Claire a few more times, eliciting giggles that turned into yawns. She gave up and tucked Roger back in.
******************************************
“The song you and Roger sang earlier… It’s of the future?” Jamie asked as he held Claire in bed a short time later. He’d be back in the priest hole the next day but refused to spend the first night of the new year anywhere but next to Claire.
“Yes and no,” she said with a sigh. “It will come to be associated with celebrating the new year in the twentieth century, but the words will be penned by a great Scots poet in another decade or so.”
“A great Scots poet,” Jamie mused, grinning in the dark.
“Mmmhmm. And it’s not just in Scotland that he’s celebrated or that song that gets sung. It becomes popular the world over… At least, to my knowledge. There’s even a night celebrating his birth that’s a sort of unofficial holiday.”
Jamie scoffed. “Now ye’re teasin’ me, Sassenach.”
She curled into him and nuzzled against his chest. “Not at all,” she yawned. “I’ve been to my share of Burns Night celebrations over the years.”
“Hmmm… Sounds nice,” Jamie murmured as he drifted off to sleep, the words of the song – which he’d had Claire repeat for him slowly – ran through his dreams.
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne…
After learning the truth from Claire, a furious Brianna runs to Craig na Dun to prove her mother’s crazy only to fall through the stones herself.
Part One
The High Road and the Low Road - Part Two
“Ye’re called ‘Bree’?” Ian clarified.
“That’s right,” Brianna said, her tone defensive.
Ian chuckled. “Well, from what I can see of ye, ye look Scots but ye dinna sound it and ye’ve clearly got no Gaidhlig.”
“I should think that was obvious,” Brianna quipped. “Now are you going to help me find my car or not?”
“Yer what?” Ian blinked and yawned from his place on the floor.
“My car – actually, I borrowed it, which is why I need to find it and get it back to Inverness before my mom and Roger get too worried.”
Ian looked at her confused.
“Inverness? Even if ‘car’ is the name of yer horse and we found him right now, ye’ll never reach Inverness by morning,” Ian informed her. “It’s a day’s ride at least – nearer two.”
Brianna fought to make sense of what he was saying, the knot in her stomach that had untangled the further she walked from the stones was beginning to reform. “But… it couldn’t have been more than an hour after I left that I reached the stones…” she muttered to herself.
“The stones? Ye mean the fairy hill at Craigh na Dun? There’s tales of what happens there to those who get too close. If yer ‘car’ is all the fairies took from ye, count yerself lucky and dinna go near there again,” Ian advised.
“What am I gonna do?” Brianna asked in a quiet panic, voicing her thoughts aloud. “How am I gonna get back? Can I get back?”
“Calm yerself, lass,” Ian urged, relaxing into his place on the floor and closing his eyes. “Whatever it is ye decide to do, ye’ll no be able to make a start until morning, so, ye dinna need to decide till morning either. Ye can stay here tonight and share the fire so ye’re no alone.”
While Brianna was still inclined to panic, exhaustion was encouraging her to take Ian up on his offer. It was more comfortable in the cabin than outside and Ian was right – she needed the light of day to find her way back to Craigh na Dun… or whatever she decided to do. Her body screamed against going back to that stone circle – she didn’t even know what year it was or if she would land back when she’d originally left. What if she ended up further back in medieval days?
She lowered herself to the floor, eventually lying down parallel to Ian with a gap of about three feet between them and their heads pointed toward the low fire. It would be a rough night on the hard and uneven dirt floor.
She thought Ian had already succumbed to sleep but he turned his face toward her and peeked one eye open.
“Ye never said who yer family are,” he pointed out quietly.
“Yeah well you’re pretty much a stranger,” Brianna reminded him.
He chuckled. “Ye’d no object to sharing that were ye a Scot,” he told her. “And did I ken yer family name, it may be that we’re no strangers after all. Near every man, woman, and child in Scotland can claim common kin some generations back if ye talk it through enough.”
“Well I’m not from around here,” Brianna said defensively. “My mother’s English and my father… he’s dead.”
“But he was a Scot,” Ian guessed.
“That’s what my mother tells me.”
“Ye sound like ye dinna believe her.”
Brianna sighed. What did it matter if she told a stranger the shocking truth? She would be going back through the stones soon anyway (though the thought made her shudder). And she wanted – needed – to talk about it with someone who might understand and feel for what she was going through. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt that this young man would understand her.
“The man who raised me died about two years ago in an accident,” she confided. “I always thought he was my father. But, my mother recently told me that actually, she was already pregnant with me when she… married him. She’s only just told me that she was married to another man before him and that that man was my real father. He died in battle and she… It’s uh… it’s been a bit of a shock.”
“I’m sorry, lass. I didna mean to make light. My uncle fought at Culloden. Lucky to be alive. Was wounded and nearly died of a fever. To hear my mam tell it, he tried a few times and wasna happy wi’ her for stoppin’ him,” Ian shared. “I’m headed to Edinburgh to see him. He’s a printer now. My mam and da need seed and tools from the city so I thought I’d fetch them and check in on my uncle while I’m there.”
“Sounds… nice,” Brianna replied when he paused. “I didn’t grow up with much in the way of family and now it’s just me and my mom.”
“Is that why ye’re travelin’ alone? Ye dinna have kin to travel wi’ ye and protect ye?”
“I can take pretty good care of myself,” Brianna snapped. “You’re traveling alone and you’re younger than me.”
“No by much, I’d wager,” Ian snapped back. “And I’m a man, besides.”
“Do your parents even know you’re here or did you run away or something?”
Ian sputtered and scoffed, struggling to find words with which to deny her accusation.
Brianna laughed. “You ran away.”
“Well, then I suppose ye think ye’re too good for my help. Perhaps ye’d prefer to sleep outside if ye’re so capable of takin’ care of yerself.”
“I don’t care if you’ve run away or not and the first thing to know about taking care of yourself is knowing when to ask for and accept help,” Brianna told him.
“Did yer father teach ye that? Certainly sounds like what my Da would say. My mam would tell me to stop courtin’ trouble in the first place.”
“My mother says it, actually. She’s a doctor – a surgeon. She’s used to helping people and convincing her more stubborn patients to accept help when it’s offered.”
“A surgeon? Really? And yer father didna mind?”
Brianna shifted to find a more comfortable position (there wasn’t one). She was tired and not thinking straight. She’d have to be more careful. She was confident she must be some time after Culloden from what the boy said (but how long after could be anywhere between five and fifty years for all she knew).
“Didn’t say he didn’t mind it. But my mother is an unusual woman.” Brianna felt a stab of longing as she thought of her mother. She missed her desperately. Why had she let her temper get the better of her? She should have stayed and heard her mother out – of course, who could blame her for not believing Claire’s story?
“A rare woman,” Ian murmured. “Tha’s how my da talks of my mam…” He yawned. “Best we rest now. I’ll see if there’s anything I can help ye with in the morning ‘fore I go on my way,” he promised.
“Thanks,” Brianna said with a yawn of her own. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm her mind and pretend she was back at the Manse, that this was all a dream and the world would make sense again when she woke.
*************************************
Ian woke before her and was watching her strangely when she started coming around. She turned away to yawn and stretch, then faced him again.
“You know, it’s unsettling, you watching like that,” she said, not really ready to be awake and have to think about her predicament again.
“Sorry,” Ian said, flushing and offering her a bit of bread from the pack he’d brought. “It’s just… I didna get a fair look at ye before. There’s something… Who did ye say yer family are?”
“I didn’t,” Brianna reminded him. “But I guess you didn’t attack me in my sleep.”
“Gave ye food as well,” he pointed out.
“My mother’s name is Claire. And she’s going to murder me for getting lost like this and scaring her,” Brianna told him, hoping to sidestep the subject of her father so she wouldn’t have to think about it more.
“And ye said ye got lost near the fairy hill?”
“You mean Craigh na Dun? Yes. If you point me in the right direction, I should be able to get back on my own.”
Ian dusted away crumbs and began pulling his pack back together, readying to depart.
“I can’t let ye go on yer own – it would be too dangerous. But I also cannae be turnin’ back just now. I’ve no time to lose on my way to Edinburgh.”
“It can’t be that far away,” Brianna objected. “I wandered from there to here in less than a night.”
“And ye’re lucky ye werena set upon as ye did,” Ian warned. “It’s no a safe stretch here – not if ye dinna ken the safe places along the way, like this wee cabin here. It’ll be safer for both of us if we travel together as I do ken the safe stops along the way.”
“You want me to go all the way to Edinburgh with you?” Brianna asked, skeptical. “Even though the place I’m trying to find is the other direction…”
“I promise we’ll no stay in Edinburgh for more than a day or two and my uncle will be more’n happy to let ye stay wi’ him, as he’s used to puttin’ me up. Then, on my way home again, I’ll be able to bring ye all the way to Inverness myself.”
It was a crazy, ridiculous, and stupid idea to follow this boy all the way to Edinburgh. She had no way to get word to her mother – if it was possible for her to get back at all… Maybe her mother was unique in being able to go back and forth. From her mom’s stories, this was where she should have been born. What if the stones decided this was where she belonged and that was it? Could she risk wandering off on her own only to discover she was trapped here alone without even basic supplies? Ian seemed nice enough and was willing to help. If she let him walk away and she was really stuck here, how long would it take her to find another person and what were the chances they would be willing or able to help?
And who was to say that even with a detour, when she reached the stones and went back again, maybe she'd show up the same day she’d left. Her mother didn’t seem to know how they worked so it was anyone’s guess. Besides, having made the journey and gotten through her initial panic, she had to admit she was getting curious. She’d studied this time extensively – read about it in her father’s books countless times. But to have a chance to live it…
She couldn’t believe she was actively talking herself into it and promised it would only be for a few days – she still couldn’t imagine what (or who) could have inspired her mother to stay for almost three years.
“Fine,” Brianna muttered, rolling her eyes at the triumphant grin that broke across Ian’s face. “But if your uncle refuses to let me stay, whatever alternative lodgings are necessary are going to be found and paid for by you. And we can’t stay in Edinburgh for more than a few days.”
“I can assure ye, my uncle willna mind. Now, if ye’re ready, we can make a start and if we’re lucky, we’ll find someone wi’ a cart who’ll let us have a ride part of the way.”
“Hitchhiking,” Brianna remarked with a smile as she squinted into the early morning sun. “That I can do.”
*************************************
“If she didn’t come back through right away, then it must mean something’s happened to her,” Claire explained as she packed supplies – a change of clothes for herself and Brianna, her traveling medical kit, some food.
“Ye cannae know that for sure,” Roger insisted. “We cannae even be certain she went through the stones. We don’t know she can or why it is you can.”
“She went through with me when I was pregnant. That’s reason enough for me to believe. And she wouldn’t wander off on her own and if she found a ride with someone and was safe, she would have phoned. She went through the stones and she’s stuck or injured or scared or all three. I won’t leave her alone there for a moment longer than I have to.”
“Right,” Roger agreed. “Fiona will be here in a few minutes. What can I do?”
“Are you going to try and come with me or are you going to wait on this side for me to bring her back?”
Roger froze. “What makes ye think I could even travel through the stones?”
Claire nodded to the framed family tree on the wall.
“William Buccleigh Mackenzie. He wasn’t the child of those two listed there. Well… he was. But their son by that name died before his first birthday. The one that lived to father children was born to Geillis Duncan and Dougal Mackenzie – and I know for a fact Geillis Duncan traveled through the stones.”
“What? How?” Roger sputtered.
But Fiona had pulled into the yard.
“I’ll tell you in the car,” Claire promised.
Roger hastily grabbed a few things and threw them into a bag before ushering Claire outside and locking the door behind them.
Can you please add to the come Hell or Helwater story? I would be eternally grateful. Also do you post any where but here? Like A03 or something?
Come Hell or Helwater - Part Nineteen
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen
And here’s where you can find it on AO3.
*********************************************
Something was going on. Brianna wasn’t sure what, but there was something strange going on between her mother and Jamie. Whatever it was, they didn’t want her to know about it. Every time she walked into the room, they turned all their attention on her. It was overwhelming and she didn’t like it. She’d rather they told her what was going on. If it didn’t stop soon, if they didn’t say something… she would.
Isobel and Lord and Lady Dunsany had returned a few days after her mother. Brianna’s lessons with Isobel had resumed but neither of them were as interested as they had been. Isobel was excited about her sister’s condition and would be going back and forth between the two houses a great deal in the coming months.
“It’s a comfort to her to have me there,” Isobel explained as she struggled to show Brianna how to do decorative needlework. She was embroidering a cap for her sister’s baby.
Brianna was supposed to be putting a monogram onto a handkerchief for her father, but she couldn’t tell Isobel that the initials were wrong. She just worked quietly on the A and M, figuring someday she could add a J to the beginning and an I and E at the end. It wouldn’t be centered properly in the corner but at least it would properly be his.
“It’s important that she rest and not be upset by anything – it’s bad for the baby,” Isobel explained.
“And when you’re not there, is she upset?” Brianna asked.
“It isn’t polite to gossip about such things,” Isobel replied, more with resignation than an aim to scold Brianna for her question. “But she is certainly more inclined to find things upsetting when there’s no one around who can help her with running the household.”
“And you miss your sister too, I suppose.”
“Of course. We were close when we were younger. Our brother was older and we both looked up to him – Geneva especially. I… I remember his death more than him, really. It brought us closer, I suppose,” Isobel confessed.
“What’s it like?” Brianna asked, suddenly curious. “Having a sister?”
Isobel’s eyes widened with surprise but then she folded her hands into her lap, needle and thread carefully held between the forefinger and thumb of her right hand, the delicate, unfinished cap clutched in her left hand.
“Well… She liked to be in charge when we played, but I didn’t mind. I think she’s always been more fanciful so her games were more enjoyable than anything I ever thought of. There were times when we would quarrel, but I don’t know as I’ve heard of any siblings who don’t disagree from time to time,” Isobel confided with a warm smile. “It was harder for her, being older, I think. She had to do everything first when it came to being about in society when we visited London. She’s also prettier so more has been expected of her in other ways. Her marriage has been a successful one… in some ways more than others. I do think we enjoy one another’s company better now and I am excited to become an aunt,” Isobel said with a grin, her attention returning to the baby’s cap in her hands.
Brianna gave her a polite smile, pondering the relationship Isobel described.
She’d had some friends in Boston, but no one she was particularly close to. Even if she had wanted to have friends over to her house, many of their parents weren’t keen to let their daughters visit the Randall household. Despite the fact that Frank was a respectable professor, Claire not only worked, she had a man’s profession. They didn’t want their children getting ideas. Of course, it could only do Brianna good to see the example set in their own households, so she was always welcome there (but once her mother discovered what was behind their hospitality, she preferred to have Brianna either join Frank at the university or do her homework in her own office at the hospital).
Some of those sort-of friends had siblings, though. Angela’s older sister sometimes let them play with her makeup but she also yelled at them when they accidentally spilled her favorite nail polish on her desk. Barbara’s older brother mostly just ignored them whenever Brianna happened to see him and Barbara didn’t seem to mind too much. Doris had a younger sister who had just been starting school and she complained about how all her old things were being passed down – things Barbara still considered hers.
They’d stayed at Lallybroch for a few days before setting out for Helwater. It hadn’t been much time for Brianna to get to know her cousins (and it had been a little overwhelming because there were so many of them), but maybe she would come to see them like siblings… if they ever got back to Lallybroch.
“And what about you?” Isobel asked Brianna gently. “Do you think you would find the prospect of a younger brother or sister exciting?”
Brianna looked up at Isobel, confused. How had the older girl guessed what she’d been thinking about?
“I… guess,” Brianna replied. “I know I wanted one when I was littler but after a while of wanting one and not getting one, I guess I stopped hoping for one.”
“Mmmhmm…” Isobel nodded, her eyes darting back and forth from her needlework to Brianna, something playful in her gaze and at the edges of her mouth.
“What?”
“Nothing. I suppose… I wished for a younger sister sometimes when Geneva was being unkind to me. I told myself I would only treat my younger sister with kindness. While I may not have gotten a younger sister in the way I’d hoped, the girl I imagined she would be was a lot like you – in behavior more than appearance,” she added with a quiet laugh.
“That’s kind of you to say,” Brianna responded flatly, still confused by Isobel’s behavior. She looked to the clock on the mantel. It was a little earlier than they usually quit for the day but Brianna had had enough of Isobel’s riddles. “I should go back and help Mama,” she said, carefully putting her work away. “She hasn’t been feeling well lately.”
“I heard,” Isobel said, laying her own work aside and rising to follow Brianna to the door. “Send her my best wishes that she’ll soon feel better. Encourage her to rest and take care of her if she’ll let you.”
“I will,” Brianna promised but there was something in the way Isobel said it, in the way that she smiled that left Brianna turning their conversation over and over in her mind as she made her way back to their cottage.
When Brianna arrived, her mother was standing at her work table but she wasn’t working. She had one hand braced on the table, the other at the small of her back rubbing circles into it.
“Are you okay, Mama?” Brianna asked, closing the door quietly behind her.
“I thought you were supposed to be having your sewing lesson with Lady Isobel,” Claire remarked, straightening at the table and reaching for some dried herbs to add to her mortar for grinding.
“I told her I needed to come back early to help you,” she said, moving to a spot on the other side of the table.
“Very well. Here,” Claire slid the mortar across to Brianna and then handed her the pestle. “Grind those and then add them–”
“I know, Mama. I’ve helped you make this balm before,” Brianna assured her with an annoyed laugh.
Claire laughed quietly, moving to prepare the beeswax for melting. She paused at the end of the table, leaning into it again and running a hand over herself, first down her front and then to that spot at the small of her back for a moment. With a small nod to herself, she resumed her task.
Brianna had noticed and again asked, “Are you okay, Mama?” Seeing her mother sigh, seeing her prepare to lie or only tell half the truth, Brianna set the pestle aside with more force than she intended, and asked with more force, “Are you sick? Is that why you and Da have been acting strange?”
“I’m not sick, sweetheart,” Claire assured her. “I’m… I’m going to have a baby. I wasn’t sure for a while and there’s still a lot that can go wrong,” she babbled, “but no, I’m not sick.”
“Oh,” Brianna said, picking the pestle back up and grinding the herbs, simply for something to do with her hands. “Are you… happy about it?”
Claire looked at Brianna for a moment, a smile slowly breaking across her face. “I am. But I’m also terrified. The last time I did this was a looooong time ago.”
Brianna laughed. “I’m not that old.”
“No, but you’re not my little baby anymore either,” Claire lamented.
“You’re still scared even though this time you have me and Da?”
“Last time… I didn’t have much left to lose if things went wrong,” Claire answered, quietly. “This time…”
“You’ll be fine, Mama. Da and I will make sure of it,” Brianna promised.
“That’s exactly what your father keeps saying.”
“Two against one,” Brianna said with a shrug. “You should listen to us.”
Claire chuckled. “I suppose I should.”
“Can I tell Lady Isobel? She’s making a cap for Lady Geneva’s baby. Maybe she can show me how to make one for this baby.”
“That would be nice… And what about you? I know it’s a surprise but, are you happy about it? You won’t be close enough in age to be playmates…”
“I don’t know. It’s strange to think of having a baby here,” she remarked, looking around their small cottage. “But I guess it’s kind of like everything else. It’s strange at first, but then you get used to it and have a hard time imagining any other way. I still miss… I was gonna say ‘home’ but this is home now. Where we were before feels more and more like a dream.”
“Hmmm. It does. Not a bad dream or a good dream… just a little… not real.”
“But I always have you to help me remember it,” Brianna said.
“And I have you,” Claire agreed. “And that is something that will always be just ours.”
Brianna smiled, liking the thought of having something that she alone shared with her mother.
Claire comes back to the past with Brianna and arrives at Helwater looking for Jamie—but must confront the Dunsanys first.
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen
This installment is kind of inspired by and therefore dedicated to all the parents out there who have been put into the position of homeschooling their children due to current circumstances. ~ Mod Lenny
With Lady Isobel gone to stay with her sister, Brianna’s education fell back to Claire and Jamie.
At first, Claire worked with Brianna during the day while Jamie was busy with the horses. She reviewed mathematics and gave Brianna some problems to solve before changing their attention to science. Even if Brianna hadn’t requested it, Claire would have insisted upon teaching her daughter as much 20th century science as she could.
When Jamie returned for lunch and dinner, Brianna would tell him about what she had learned and then in the evenings, he would work with her on languages, reading and classical history.
Brianna and Claire played a game when Jamie wasn’t around where she would toss out a historical event and Brianna had to guess whether or not it had happened yet. Once, Brianna asked about changing history and whether it was possible. Claire offered an abridged account of her own attempts at changing things with Jamie’s help.
“Perhaps it was only that we tried to change an event that was too large,” Claire admitted with a shrug. “There were too many forces pushing it to happen and we couldn’t stop enough of them. Perhaps, if we’d tried with something smaller and more insignificant, we would have succeeded and eventually its consequences would have snowballed into larger changes decades from now. Or perhaps it isn’t possible at all.”
“Maybe the things you could change of the ones that don’t make it into history books at all,” Brianna guessed. “Then you wouldn’t know if you were changing anything or not.”
“Maybe,” Claire agreed with a smile.
But while Jamie would probably have happily skipped learning the history-yet-to-come that fueled their game, his curiosity got the better of him when it came to Brianna recounting what Claire was teaching her of science.
“And why are ye growin’ mold on bread?” Jamie asked, turning from Brianna to Claire. But Brianna answered.
“There’s a special kind that squirts out stuff that keeps you from getting sick,” she explained, causing Claire to laugh and Jamie to quirk an eyebrow.
“Lord John has agreed to help me acquire a microscope,” Claire told him. “And if it works well enough, I should be able to find — or at least try to find — the strain that secretes what will one day be called penicillin. It’s an antibiotic that can help prevent and cure infection.”
“The wee bit of mold will do all that?” he asked in wonderment.
Claire smiled, carrying a plate with freshly cut (and mold free) bread to put on the table before him. She stayed standing behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders and leaning in close to add, “And it’s a Scot who’ll discover it. In about a hundred and fifty years’ time.” She kissed his cheek and gave him a pat on the back before moving to take her own seat and dig into the meal.
“And you plan to find it and… use it?”
“Of course. I’ll need to fashion some kind of hypodermic needle eventually, but an oral administration is better than nothing. The acid in the stomach breaks it down a bit so its effects aren’t as fast or strong,” she rambled.
Jamie sat nodding, watching her as he chewed.
“When did you say Lord John would send you the microscope?” Brianna asked around a full mouth.
Claire frowned at her and swallowed her own mouthful before replying, “Within the month. I’m hoping it will be closer to a fortnight but either way, it doesn’t hurt to start a few cultures so I have something to try right away. As soon as it arrives, we’ll go around collecting samples we can use to calibrate the microscope. Trough water, goat’s milk… we’ll see if we can find some algae on the rocks in the stream and maybe some plant spores or flower pollen…”
“I can bring ye some of the muck from the stalls if that would be of interest to ye,” Jamie offered.
Claire beamed while Brianna grimaced at the thought. Jamie laughed, joined by Claire when she saw Brianna’s disgusted expression (only some of which was about Jamie’s offer and the rest by her mother’s obvious intention to take him up on it).
“I cannae wait to see what ye find wi’ the microscope,” he said with excitement.
The microscope arrived from Lord John about three weeks later, when Brianna’s frustration at its delay had begun to negatively affect her attitude (and Jamie and Claire’s by extension).
It arrived while Jamie was busy at the stables. When he returned to their small cottage for his midday meal, he instead found Claire bent over the table setting it up and Brianna hovering like a butterfly, too excited to land anywhere for long.
“Shall I fetch something from Cook in the kitchen then?” he asked, announcing his entrance.
“Would you?” Claire asked gratefully, adjusting a mirror and inching a candle (burned to a low nub) closer. “I’ve got it nearly there… I don’t want to move it to lay anything out yet.”
“Bree,” Jamie jerked his head back toward the door. “Come help me carry it.”
“You don’t need help carrying anything from the kitchen,” she whined. “I wanna stay and look through the microscope when Mama’s got it ready.”
“She’s like to have it ready by the time we return and we can find something from Cook tha’s worth a keek through the microscope,” he assured her, heading into the room and herding her out of the cottage.
He glanced to Claire as he reached to close the door behind them. She was watching him leave mouthing, “thank you,” and smiling. It warmed him through, easing the tired tension in his arms and back from his morning’s work.
Brianna chattered away as they walked to and from the kitchens, fetching some bread, cheese, and cold meat left from Lord and Lady Dunsany’s meal.
“Insist on the full spread though Lady Isobel’s away,” Cook muttered as she picked over the parcel she packed for them, retrieving stray bones she needed for making stock.
Brianna carried the basket while Jamie carried some bottles with ale.
“I wonder if Mama will let us look at that under the microscope,” she mused, nodding to the bottles.
“I’d dinna ken as I want to see that just yet. If I’ve just had it to drink and the sight turns my stomach, I may see it in a still less flattering way… or if it would turn my stomach and I havena drunk it yet, then I’ll just go the day thirsty and I cannae do that wi’ an afternoon yet ahead of me,” he told her.
“Ugh, no. Nothing food or drink then for a while,” Brianna grimaced.
Jamie chuckled, amazed at just how much the expression matched a common one of Claire’s. It was a constant wonder to watch and listen to Brianna. She was at once the embodiment of Claire, the mirror of himself, and yet something – or rather, someone – entirely her own.
Claire didn’t look like she’d moved at all since they’d stepped out, but when she raised her head at their entrance her face was alight with triumph.
“Care to take a look?” she asked Brianna.
Jamie successfully grabbed the basket from her hands before Brianna could drop it or toss it aside in her haste.
Claire gave him an apologetic look as she showed Brianna what to do and reminded her not to jar the table or the device.
“Whoa… what is that?” Brianna gasped.
“I had a vial on me the last time I went looking for mushrooms in the woods,” Claire explained. “There’s that shallow spot near the stream that’s basically a small stagnant pond. Since I had the vial and there was water in it, I thought I might as well take a sample.”
“Holy cow, they’re moving!”
Instincts startled into action by Brianna’s exclamation, Jamie darted to her side but Claire was grinning.
“I know! I was worried anything alive in the sample would die before the microscope arrived. You’re looking at a paramecium. They live in the water and feed on bacteria, algae, that sort of thing.”
“I think it’s eating another one,” Brianna said with horror and panic in her voice. She looked to Jamie while Claire swept in to peek.
“It’s not eating the other one. It’s dividing. That’s how they reproduce,” she explained.
Brianna looked again. “Da… you have to see this.”
She backed away, offering him her spot. He looked to Claire with uncertainty, but she nodded and walked him through how he should adjust the scope to focus as he needed. She knew he found the right setting when she heard his quiet gasp.
“And that wee thing lives in the water?” he asked carefully.
“Not all water. But some microorganisms like this can make people ill. That’s why I always boil water for drinking and sterilize my medical instruments in boiling water. It kills the kinds of microbes that cause infection.”
“So it’s one of yer germs, then… this paramecium…”
“Not exactly. But it does eat some kinds of germs. I’m afraid this microscope isn’t strong enough to see the bacteria it feeds on. But it should do just fine for examining the molds to find the right one for penicillin,” she declared.
“I’ll never again dip my hand to drink from a loch wi’out seein’ that wee thing in my mind’s eye,” Jamie said, sounding haunted and perhaps a bit queasy.
“What’d you two fetch for lunch?” Claire asked, hungry now that success was achieved.
Tagalong prompt: I would 💕 to read about the birth of Patience and why she was given her ‘virtue’ Christian name. Maybe we could find out more about William and Jacob too? Thank you.
Tagalong One Shot #2
“She’s a lass, Mam?” Jacob asked, climbing onto the bed to curl up next to Claire and stare down at his newborn sister, consciously happy to be a big brother but only just starting to feel the shift of attention away from him to the new baby of the family.
“Yes she is,” Claire crooned as the baby freed her arm from the blanket to stretch. Jacob quickly reached out and caught hold of her curled fist, stroking her knuckles with his thumb and watching, mesmerized as her fingers splayed in response.
“What’re ye callin’ her?” Brianna asked from beside Jamie. With him seated and her standing, Brianna was a few inches taller. Even with Claire’s letters detailing the changes in their children over the years, it had been a shock to see them grown so much, especially Brianna who, at nearly fifteen, could hardly be considered a lass any longer. Though, perhaps it was the way she looked after young Roger that drove the fact home. If she had her way (and she likely would, having Claire and Jenny as her primary role models), it wouldn’t be much longer before Roger looked after her in the same way.
“Her name is Patience,” Claire told their brood. She didn’t think she would never tire of seeing them all under the same roof, let alone in the same room. Fergus stood at Jamie’s other side, a congratulatory hand on his shoulder. Roger leaned against the window frame, his arms crossed and that little bit apart that still broke Claire’s heart after so many years – uncomfortable being included cause he still didn’t know how he fit with the rest of them during moments like this.
“Patience?” William repeated, skeptically. He’d taken up a post on the other side of the bed but held back, considering himself too grown to crawl up next to Claire like Jacob had.
“Aye,” Jamie said. “She wouldna be here were we no able to wait and be patient through all we’ve suffered, bein’ apart. She’s the reward for all that. The last of you bairns God’s gifted to us.”
“Well,” Brianna said, striding over to the bed and reaching down to take the babe from their mother’s arms. “I did always wish for a wee sister.” Jacob frowned to William who shrugged as Brianna carried the baby over to Jamie so Fergus and Roger could have a better look at her.
“Da says she’s the last,” Jacob said quietly to Claire.
“I think so, darling,” Claire told him. They hadn’t been trying for another child — hadn’t thought it possible, let alone likely. But they’d certainly been happy when her irregular courses had given way to additional symptoms of pregnancy rather than menopause. They would be careful for a few more years though. It had been more difficult this time than with either of the boys. After all their years apart — first when she and Fergus had gone to the 20th century, then with Jamie away at prison before being paroled and finally returning home — they weren’t willing to risk anything happening to either of them if they could take steps to prevent it.
Besides, their family felt complete. Jamie had missed so much of Jacob’s infancy as well as all of Brianna’s. He wouldn’t miss that again and they would have some years before Brianna was likely to wed and possibly leave Lallybroch.
“I cannae believe I was ever so wee,” Jacob declared, looking at how small Patience was in Jamie’s arms.
“Ye were though, a bhalaich,” Jamie assured him. “Ye spent many an hour tucked right here in the crook of my arm while yer mam chased after Bree and Willie. Ye would turn yer head to watch them run about, and yer eyes would go crossways,” he recounted, demonstrating the dazed look and making them all laugh at the impression. “And then ye’d close yer eyes to make it stop, and ye’d turn yer head back against me to hide from them. And then ye’d let out a breath and ye’d give up and drift off to sleep.”
Claire kept her eyes on Jamie, watching him carefully. He had spent as much time as he could with Jacob in those early days, both of them sensing that a change was coming. That last time the Red Coats had arrived, they’d been too close to discovering Jamie in the house. Jenny had been giving birth to Ian and Mrs. Crook and Mary MacNab were busy helping with supplies and tending to the children while Claire saw to Jenny and the baby. Jamie had kept to the priest hole and had Jacob in there with him – the only place quiet enough for him to sleep and have the direct attention he still needed at just a few weeks old.
He’d started crying while the Red Coats were in the house. Luckily, they’d been able to pass the cries off as those of newborn Ian.
But it had been too close. If they’d found Jamie, they would have punished the whole estate for hiding him. So he’d decided to have one of the tenants turn him in for the reward that would keep Lallybroch running in the years of hardship to come. Claire had been left to raise the children in his absence with help from Jenny, Ian, and Fergus. They had managed and recalled those first two years after Culloden, remembering it could be worse. It hadn’t made it easier, though, when Jamie finally arrived home from his parole and Jacob had hidden behind Claire’s skirts, having no memory of his father. The lad still drifted toward Claire more often than not.
“What about when I was a wee bairn?” William asked.
“You refused to sleep,” Jamie informed his older son with an accusatory glare. “I believe ye kent we were busy about our business whenever ye closed yer eyes and ye couldna bare to miss it. Always watchin’ and kickin’ to be a part of what yer sister and yer cousins were doin’. Ye walked before ye were a year, eager to follow after ‘em.”
William’s face was pink as the others chuckled and laughed at the tale, but there was a proud smile tugging up the corners of his mouth (so like his father’s).
“Brianna smiled when she slept,” Fergus chimed in. “I could touch her cheek and she would not wake, but she would smile like she knew it was me.”
“I bet she still does,” Claire teased lightly. “According to your Auntie Jenny, your father did that when he was just a babe and I know… that every once in a while, he still does.”
“I’ve plenty to be smilin’ about, Sassenach,” Jamie assured her, grinning as she flushed at his attention.
Jacob slipped off the bed and crossed the room to Jamie. He reached out a finger and gently stroked Patience’s cheek. Sure enough, her mouth twitched into a half smile.
Jacob beamed up at Jamie. “She does it too!”
Before Jacob could try again and risk waking the baby, Jamie used his free arm to scoop the boy onto his lap, tucking him close. Jacob leaned his dark head against Jamie’s chest, sighting as he watched his baby sister sleep.
