Part Two, Chapter Four: Print Shop
Claire has traveled thru the standing stones once again and has been reunited with Jamie. The two are looking at the photographs Claire has brought from the future, discussing the similarities in their two daughters.
You can find previous chapters here.
November 1766; Above the print shop belonging to Alexander Malcolm, Edinburgh, Scotland.
Claire.
“She had curls like Julia as a lass, aye?” Jamie reverently stroked a photograph of toddler Brianna standing on a park bench holding an ice cream cone, her hair a riotous mess around her face.
“They tamed a bit as she got older, but Bree had that same cowlick just there like Julia did.” My fingers found the rebellious tuft the three of them shared at the back of his head.
He smiled, “She’s fair like the both of ye too.”
“Very,” I agreed. “She burns in the sun easily and often complains of her freckles. I suppose that’s my genetics to blame, though, you tan rather than burn for the most part.”
“What of her voice, Sassenach? Did she sound like her?” His eyes implored me, leaving the photograph for the first time. He seemed to absorb every piece of information I gave him, needing to know every detail about his child.
We fell silent for a time, just basking in the newness of being together again.
“Its beautiful, you know,” I whispered.
He turned, placing a kiss atop my head. “What is, mo nighean donn?”
“Julia’s stone.” I answered.
I wanted to continue. My heart longed to tell him how much it meant for me to have her by his parents, how comforting it was to know that she was forever safe at Lallybroch, but my lips wouldn’t form the words. I grabbed at his hands, needing to feel their strong security.
His eyes gleamed in the candle light, “I thought of her often while ye were gone, our beag calman geal. Imagined her playing with Willie and the bairn Jenny lost.”
“Caitlin, wasn’t it?” I asked as I traced the faint ‘c’ at the base of his palm with my thumb.
“Aye,” Jamie answered, clearing his throat. “I would bring a flower for each o’ them when I’d visit my parents graves.”
A lump rose in my own throat. Turning my face into his shoulder, I swallowed past it and added, “I brought her pink tulips. I should have brought flowers for them too, while I was there, but all I could think of was her.”
“She’s at Lallybroch, then?” A hint of a smile warmed Jamie’s voice.
I pulled away from him slightly, needing to see his eyes. “Of course she’s at Lallybroch.”
What on earth did that mean? Why wouldn’t she be?
“I didna want to assume… I wasna sure… with Frank, ye ken,” he added.
The air around me grew cold. I pulled my hands from his and grabbed fistfulls of my skirt.
“What in bloody hell does Frank have to do with where our daughter is buried?”
Jamie’s brows furrowed in confusion, “What are ye saying, Claire?”
It was one thing for him to have avoided Julia’s grave out of grief, but he was acting as though he had no knowledge of where he had laid her to rest.
“What am I saying? You’re the one not making any sense.” I stood and backed away from him, “You speak as though you haven’t the foggiest idea where she is!”
He tried to reach for me, but I avoided him. “How would I ken where she is if ye dinna tell me, Claire?”
“Why would I need to tell you where you buried her?” I asked slowly, finding it very hard to breathe.
Fear began to creep into Jamie’s eyes. “The two o’ ye went into the stones, Claire. Did she no come out wi’ ye?”
Spots flashed before my eyes as Jamie lunged towards me, just in time to gather me into his arms before I hit the ground. The noise of the stones roared in my ears and drowned out the sound of Jamie’s voice. I was laying in his arms, the rough cotton of his shirt pressed against my cheek, but the world rushed past me as though I were falling off a cliff.
Wrapping my arms about his neck, I clung to him fiercely as my tears slowly pulled me back into reality. He wasn’t speaking anymore, but wept with me, gently rocking back and forth. The repetitive motion and vibration of his strong heartbeat set me back on solid ground.
If she hadn’t come thru with me and she hadn’t stayed with Jamie, where and when did she go? And how was she buried at Lallybroch?
Jamie was the one to actually put words to the question, once he found his voice again.
A strong spasm ran thru me, making me convulse at the sound of it. His arms squeezed tighter around me, as if protecting me from myself.
“Where is she, Jamie?” I asked after a time, my voice trembling.
“She is at rest, mo chridhe,” Jamie whispered in my ear.
“I dinna ken,” his thumb wiped at a trail of tears on my cheek, “but if she is at Lallybroch, that means she was with family, aye?”
“She finds us,” I murmured.
Jamie’s chin quivered as he tried to smile, “We always find a way back to each other, mo nighean donn. Why should our daughter be any different?”
