Briste | Chapter 12
Briste | Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11
My father once said that the moment I met the person I was meant to be with, I’d ken it in a heartbeat.
He was right.
My heart and mind recognized her before I was even fully aware of it myself. The first month after the explosion I had dreams of an angel. She had the sweet voice of a Sassenach and the kindest touch. Whenever the pain began to overwhelm me, her voice and touch cut through the agony, replacing it with it peace.
She had spoken to me for countless hours, it seemed, in my haze. She read stories, the news, or just spoke her mind and the wish for me to open my eyes.
“Findings! You make him sounds like some sort of experiment!” A shrill voice had filtered in. That hadn’t been my angel, but I recognized it. Jenny. I furrowed my brow, light and pain began to seep into my consciousness and the dreams became more fuzzy by the second as the beeping of machines and the voice of my angel spoke.
“Can you tell me his name?”
I was even more confused by her statement. She knew my name, didn’t she? My angel had to know. I wanted to scream out to her, but nothing came. I needed to see; I needed to get my angel’s attention and let her know. She needed to know me.
I had opened my eyes and seen the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. The hazy vision of my angel solidified and I finally had features clearly drawn: riotous curly hair, milky skin, and eyes the color of the finest Scotch.
“Mo chridhe,” I had whispered, my voice scratchy and hoarse. Neither my sister or my angel had heard me.
When they did notice me, my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. My angel— Jenny had called her Dr. Beauchamp—gently touched my arm and my skin burned from her touch.
And just as soon as I had a chance to drink her in, she was gone, leaving me alone with my sister. She sobbed and hugged me. Between her sobs, Jenny fretted over me, not leaving me for a moment. It was smothering. I had never seen her this way before. Maybe it was the thought of losing me so shortly after Da and Willie or her ever growing pregnancy messing with her mind, but I didn’t care. It was nice to be surrounded by love and warmth instead of the cold hard fear that had been my constant state for the last four years.
“Who was she?” I croaked when Jenny had finally calmed down.
“Who was who, mo brathair?” She gave me a quizzical look, and rubbed her belly. “Surely ye’ve not already forgotten Doctor Beauchamp, who has been verra dedicated and skilled despite her age?”
I shook my head, feeling myself go dizzy with the movement. “No, not her. I ken fine who the angel is, but the demon. I dinna ken who she is. Can ye tell me, sister? Who was the demon who tortured me when the angel wasna near?”
My voice verged on hysterical, if it wasn’t already there. From the alarmed look on Jenny’s face, I had scared her. She opened her mouth to speak before we heard a loud slam of a door and screaming. I felt what little color was sure to be in my face, drain instantly. The demon was screeching, and at my angel.
“I’ve known James Fraser my whole life and I’d know the look of him anywhere.” The words from the demon floated through the sturdy wood of the door and down my spine like ice. How could she have known me her whole life?
“Jenny?” I began to shake with some foreign emotion that I couldn’t put a name to. We then heard a loud *crack* and the stomping of feet. Five minutes later, my angel and another doctor walked into the room, a smile on his face.
“Welcome back Mr. Fraser! Doctor Beauchamp has told me we finally have an identity for you, and perfect timing with your sudden consciousness. So can you tell me how you’re feeling? Please do not leave anything out. We want to get you back to your best state of being as quickly as we can.”
The conversation flowed and I can’t recall a moment of it. I was too busy stealing glances at the red flushed face of my angel who kept quiet in the corner of my room, and never once approached my bed.
That behavior became her normal towards me unless she had to inspect something under a bandage. The same, kind doctor accompanied her--I really need to remember his name--each round, but she never spoke to me. Her smile did not reach the corner of her lips let alone her eyes, and gradually she began walking with a limp.
My angel avoided my room now. I could feel the depression setting in; I was being abandoned by the angel. The angel whose voice still called to me at night and in my daydreaming states. The voice that gave me hope, now gone.
I grabbed my cane and shoved the IV contraption out the door, then hobbled my way down the corridor in an aimless fashion. My mind so preoccupied by what I might have done to keep her away, and what I could do to get her back, that I nearly missed an argument and a plea. The kind doctor and one I’d never met before strode from a room, the door bouncing off the hinge and slowly swung back open.
“I still say you should tell us who the bastard is that did this to you. I’m not fully convinced this was all done from being clumsy!” the nurse who reminded me of an aunt said exasperatedly, while wrapping a patient's knee. I saw the healed scrapes and gouges, the purple, blue and green mottled bruising that went from shin and above.
My mouth fell open as I took in all of the injuries this woman had endured. My blood pressure rose as I saw more bruising up her arms and shoulders. What kind of person would harm another like this? Was it her boyfriend? Husband? Girlfriend? Or someone she had an unfortunate encounter with? Situation after situation crossed my mind, and then my blood simultaneously boiled and drained from my body. Sitting on the bench was not just a patient, but my angel. My angel bruised and hurt. Is this why she started avoiding me? Did someone tell her to stop?
I took a step towards her room and she averted her eyes, a blush creeping up her neck.
“All done Claire.” The nurse patted Claire’s leg and handed her her clothes. “Now I don’t want to see you—oh! Hello my dear, have you gotten lost? Do you need assistance getting back to your room?” She addressed me. I shook my head, my eyes not leaving Claire.
“Claire, my angel, who hurt you? What has happened? Please tell me.” I hobbled my way close enough to her to hold my hand out to hover over hers. I saw a tear slide down her cheek and my composure was lost.
“Angel! A Dhia! Please mo nighean donn, tell me who did this. I’ll protect you. I swear it. I’ll protect you.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry Mr. Fraser, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
Shock flooded through me. Couldn’t understand me? Had I lost the ability to speak?
“Could you try English? I caught a little of what you said. I believe that was Gaelic? You said ‘Oh God!’ why? What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Is it your hand?”
She jumped off the table, still in naught but her undergarments, and pulled my lightly bandaged hand to her, inspecting it thoroughly. I looked to the nurse who gave me a knowing smile and a wink.
“Claire, the lad is fine. He asked who hurt you.”
My angel shook her head harder. “I told you before Glenna, no one hurt me! I did this to myself running. It wasn’t intentional I swear.” She looked to me then back to Nurse Glenna. “I’m just, clumsy when running these hills and trails. I’ll be fine. Thank you for patching me up.”
“Weel I’d feel better if you took the chief up on his offer to see a psychologist and work through why you feel the need to injure yourself if no one did it to ye.” She headed to the door and before pulling it shut, said to me, “Ye’ll need leave now, Mr. Fraser. Doctor Beauchamp can walk ye back to your room and ye can interrogate her then. Maybe she’ll be more keen to talk to you.”
With a wink she was gone.
Claire had already pulled her scrubs back on and was reaching for her coat when I grabbed her hand, stopping her. She looked me in the eye, and I brushed a curl away from her face. The tension was palpable. And my only thought was, ‘Would she let me?’