Friend Lambert is gone and my angel is gripping the box she is leaning on, her first two fingers of her left hand tapping away like a fiend. Things are not going the way I need them to. I need this healer look at my shoulder. I need her to fix it. I need to lessen the pain in my shoulder so I can focus my thoughts. Right now every time I move it there is horrible pain that almost brings me to my knees. I need a clear head to work out what has happened to me. I do not think this is a dream, this is real. Fairies? Maybe. What ever this is. I need this Claire to fix me. I need to focus so I can get her to focus and remove the pain. I look into her eyes and then down at my feet to think for a second. I see her eyes move down and watch my face.
"Uncle Lamb says your arm is hurt. May I see it, please? I won't touch you unless you are alright with that," the bonnie brown haired Sassenach says, looking at me with kindness and sympathy in her face. I start to take the coat off, but the pain of twisting my shoulder starts to make me dizzy, I close my eyes and wince in pain. Claire notices my discomfort and immediately comes to help. She steps behind me and takes my coat off gently. First from the good arm and then just slides it easily off the hurt one. She lays it on the table beside me.
She comes around front, looks me in the eye and says, "I'll have to take the vest and the shirt off. That means this belt must come off first, alright?" She never takes her eyes from mine. I stare at her. She undoes the buckle to the belt. My dirk, sheath and sporran are on the belt also so she removes it all and places them on top of my coat. She starts to unbutton my waistcoat. Her beautiful hands with those long slender fingers flying over the buttons. I place my hand over hers to stop her, she should na be undressing me. We are alone. It would na be proper, I do not want her reputation ruined. She looks up and says, "It's alright. I'm a nurse. I've helped many people off with their clothes. If you'd rather wait for Uncle Lamb, if his being in the room will make you more at ease, I can stop and wait for him." She looks at me and says this with a kind and gentle voice, like she is trying to sooth and reassure me that she is a very capable healer and will take prestigious care of me. I drop my hand to my lap and let her remove my waistcoat. She removes it with the same care she took with my coat. This healer, this Claire, is verra kind and verra gentle despite that she is English.
She stands back and looks at my shirt, like she's never seen one before. She says "You're bleeding. There is a fair amount of blood on your shirt and there is a hole right here in the shoulder." She pokes her finger in the bloodied hole in my shirt and lifts it so I can see she is telling the truth. I can see this concerns her. She reaches up to my neck and works at the knot at my throat. Because the stock fabric is wet the knot is hard to undo but the healer is verra capable and manages to untie it and drops it in the pile of my belongings as well. She then starts to unbutton my shirt. Once again her long, dexterous fingers fly down the front of my shirt and quickly it is unbuttoned. I take the breath I did not realize I had been holding all the while she was working on the buttons, while she was touching me. She then unbuttons each cuff and steps back.
"I will be as gentle as I can, but I need to get the shirt off, so this might hurt a bit, alright?" and she looks right at me when she says it. "It might be easier for me, if you sit back down for this part.
And so I sit.
"Ready?" she asks.
I nod my head.
She first pulls the hem of my shirt free from under my kilt, then takes the shirt sleeve of the good arm and pulls my arm free. I smile and laugh slightly as her fingers dance across my stomach because it tickles. She smiles and blushes. She is verra bonnie indeed, especially when she smiles. It warms me right to my core.
"Right. Take a deep breath and here we go." She gathers the freed shirt in a sloppy roll and lifts the roll over my head. I bend my head to my chest to help and then sit up straight again when my head and neck are free. For some reason it is important to me to sit up straight when she is near, not to slouch or to appear uncouth. I am preening like a peacock in an attempt to gain the attentions of the peahen he wants to mate with. The healer does not seem to notice or perhaps she is not attracted to me, does not chose me. I take a breath. No, she is attracted, she wants me. I can smell it on her. And for some reason that warms me to the core again. It makes me smile. The healer takes the roll in one hand and the sleeve in the other and eases the rest of the shirt off. She plops it on the table with the rest of my wet clothes and steps back to look.
Concern shows immediately on her face. Something is wrong. She takes a finger and presses and …
"Ooch," I say and give her a look that accentuates the discomfort her poking leaves.
"Well, and rightly so, I should say. You have dislocated your shoulder, that's for certain. I can clearly see that. But I think you've been shot. Did you know you've a bullet hole in your Trapezius muscle as well? That certainly explains the shirt." and she places her hand on my good shoulder and lowers her head until it's right in front of me and looks into my eyes to watch if my answer is truthful.
I shake my head no. "No, no I did not ken I had been shot. I just ken my shoulder hurts and I can'na move it without pain," I answer with partial honesty. I did think someone had shot me, I just did not ken it for certain.
She pushes on the wound, again, and I wince and suck air in through my gritted teeth. "It looks like this is the exit, then the entrance is in the back. It's clean, straight through the muscle. I need to get some supplies, to irrigate the wound and then bandage it. Lets put some ice on that shoulder to keep the muscles from swelling too much until I can get the shoulder back in place." She opens a tall box and takes out a silver dish. She lays a towel on the table beside me and pull a handle on the dish, that makes a crunching noise and she then flips it over onto the towel. She takes the silver dish and places it on the table. I take my finger and poke one of the small whites cubes on the towel. It is cold to the touch. I pick one up and you can see light through it, almost like cold glass.
I look up at Claire and ask, "Is it glass? Cold glass?"
"It's ice, silly. You act like you've never seen an ice cube before," and she places a piece in her mouth and hands me a piece to do the same.
I place it in my mouth and smile. I like this ice. It is cool in my mouth and quickly becomes water and I swallow. Like the frozen water on the horse's water troughs in winter only thicker and in cubes. I have never tasted the frozen water from the troughs before. I pick up another piece and place it in my mouth. It is cool in my mouth like snow in the winter. That I have eaten.
She rolls the towel up, with the ice in it, and places it on my shoulder. "Hold the ice on your shoulder. I will be right back." She said and turns to walk away but after a few steps she turns back and adds, "Are you alright? Is there anything you want to tell me? I won't say anything to the authorities if you don't want me to."
I just lower my head and look at my feet. What can I tell her? The truth? She'd think I was daft. Loon. Maybe I am. Maybe this is all just a dream. Maybe I am passed out from drink in a tavern with Murtagh somewhere. This Sassenach looks so much like Yvette, my bonnie lass. Maybe that's what this is all about. This is penance for what I have done. I'm dream'n about the lass I killed; the prostitute, the wee wild thing that she was. Claire definitely reminds me of Yvette; they are similar, physically. They would be about the same height, though Claire is slightly taller. Their body shapes would be similar as well though Claire has a much better arse, from what I can see. Their eyes are exactly alike. Yvette's eyes are a brown, like my belt and Claire's are the color of a fine whiskey. Their hair is so close, I can scarcely tell the difference; both have brown hair. Yvette's was a dark brown almost black, long and straight, halfway down her back where as Claire has more color, like a burn running quickly over the rocks, and curls all about her face but is only to her shoulders. I did'na mean to kill Yvette; she said she was carrying my bairn, why would I shoot her? I ken my father would have never have approved of her but I would have married her just the same. I was aiming at Mathieu, that mercenary dolt that was grabbing at her, forcing Yvette to sit on his lap. The ugly little man, Raymond, that pulled me away from Yvette's limp body, lying on prostrate on the floor, said it was not my fault. That it was not my pistol, not my bullet that killed her. He insisted that I needed to be away from the tavern before the Gendarme arrived. They would arrest me he said and pushed me out the back door into the alley and I ran, coward that I am. I had run away and left Yvette and the unborn child dead on the floor. Ian had prevented me from going back. We had gotten on our horses and ridden away in the night. Like thieves.
Claire pulls me from my thoughts by handing me a glass when she returns. I put it to my nose. Whiskey. Good whiskey at that. I take a sip. Glenmorangie the label on the bottle says. I can easily read the label from where I sit. She's got a decent bottle of Scotch whiskey. I look up and raise my glass to her in thanks, swallow the whole shot at once and hold my glass out for her to refill. She laughs. A sweet, light giggle. She smiles and pours me another. Almost to the rim.
"No more until after supper. Agreed?" and she puts the bottle to her lips and takes a swallow herself. "Now, let's get to work. I might require some help setting that shoulder, someone to hold you steady; I am going to have to pull and push to get it back in. The muscle is already swelling. I might need to go across the hall and ask one of my neighbors to help. Would that be alright? Before I do that I want to take a closer look at the gun shot." And before I can stop her, she has walked around behind me. She makes no noise. No gasp, no cough, no "Oh, my". Then she does something no one has done before, she lays her hand gently on my back and begins to trace the lashes, each one, with her finger, drawing them for me on my back. "They are laid with such hate. Such fury." she whispers and sighs, not for her but for me. "It is a beautiful, strong back, Jamie. The wounds are healing well, if that is any help for you to hear." She places the palm of her hand on my good shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.
"'Tis nothing. Do'na worry for me over them. Laid down by the devil himself for purely evil intentions," I tell her and grab the bottle off the table and take two good swigs and set it back down.
She carefully cleans the wound, trying to warn me if she expects it to hurt me in any way. My mind is elsewhere. I do'na even notice. I have worked up a light sweat by the time she has finished and is bandaging it.
"You are a verra fine healer, Claire. You have a verra gentle touch and manner." I said in totally honesty. "I like that you told me what you were going to do and what to expect. I was nervous with ya and my shoulder is verra painful but you made it simple. I thank ya."
She blushed at what I said and looked down at her feet. The she stands straight and tall, looks me in the eye and thanks me for the complement. What a bonnie, strong lass she is. I like her so much, already. I trust her, already.
Claire's Uncle Lambert comes around the corner and enters the kitchen. I quickly look around for something to put on. I mean no disrespect to him to be found in such a state of undress in front of his niece, unchaperoned. I grab the large cloth that Claire has been tearing into strips and wrap it around my shoulders. I winced in pain again at having to move my shoulder.
Claire looks at me and barks, "Stop that. What are you doing? Give that sheet back to me before you hurt your shoulder again." She makes a grab for it and gets a corner of it and starts to pull it away from me, toward her.
"Do'na take that," I say back to Claire. "I will no disrespect your uncle. Bad enough you've seen me without my shirt but you be'n a healer and all..." I kept hold of the half already around me and, using a twisting motion with my body, almost jerk the corner free from her hands.
Claire almost falls forward but catches herself, and with both arms pulls the sheet back like a shinty stick, crying, "I said, Give." Tug. "That." Tug. "Back." Tug. She almost makes me fall out of the chair.
The wee hen is stronger than she looks. Games she wants, aye? Games she'll get, and lose. I settle myself back on the chair and quickly gather my end of the cloth in my hand by my shoulder. In one swift movement I extend my arm out, which pulls the sheet then turn my body in my chair so I now face Claire and that movement makes her fall forward, right into my lap. I let go of the cloth and catch her with my good arm and pull her into my chest to keep her from falling over my lap and onto the floor.
"Ooh," she says when she looks up into my face. I just smile down at her with my 'Jamie the Charmer' smile. This lass is fun. She is no easy like the others. She has game.
"Well Mr. MacTavish," she said brandishing her own dazzling smile. " Technically neither of us won. Neither of us is in position of the sheet." and she quickly scrambles from my arms, picks the sheet up off the floor and waves it at me.
"Possession declares the winner, I do believe. You lose, kind sir." and she bowed to me.
I lunged and grab the cloth. She has not expected that. I am now in full possession of the cloth and say "Possession. Winner." And with a flourish I have re-covered my back, shoulders and chest.
Claire looks at me in awe. And smiles.
My shoulder is killing me from the banter, but my heart was euphoric. This Sassenach is growing on me.
Lambert is leaning against the back of the couch watching and laughs.
"Alright Mr. Winner. Time to put that shoulder back. Let's see," and Claire looks around the room. "Ah," she says and walks to a corner of the room. Mr. MacTavish, I need you to come sit here on the floor in the corner. Your back needs to be against this wall and your good shoulder against the one and she points to the other wall." and I pat them with my hand.
I look at the healer like she is daft. She wants me to sit on the floor so she can fix my shoulder?
"Mr. MacTavish, please come sit here," and again she pats the wall. "You need to trust that I know what I am doing." She turns to her Uncle and says, "Do be a peach Uncle Lamb and assure Mr. MacTavish that I do know what I am doing and I am only trying to help. I need to get his shoulder back in place before it swells and then he will be in a pickle because I won't be able to help him. He will have to go to the hospital."
I sit exactly where she says and then she hands me two white pills and a tells me to swallow them and follows with a glass of water for me to drink.
"What are they?" I ask as I hold one up for a better look.
"Aspirin, to help with the pain and reduce the swelling," Claire answers.
"Water? No whiskey?" I ask.
"You my have two swallows of whiskey after you take the aspirin I just gave you. You need to take the pills with water. The reward of the whiskey comes after you take your medicine, my young man." She says and winks at me.
"I am no Laddie, Healer," I reply brusquely with my manhood in question. "I have been a man since fourteen when my Uncle Dougal took me on my first raid for highland cattle. I am two and twenty now, woman," and I glared at her. Why does it bother me that she not see me as a grown man I ask myself?
The healer unties the belt to her dress, leaving the front of her dress to fall open if she moved. I averted my eyes and looked down at the floor and then to Friend Lambert when he spoke.
"Is there anything I can do to help Claire?" Friend Lambert asked.
"No, no, I think I can manage. If not I will have to go across the hall and see if Johnny can come over and help."
My eyes opened wide. The healer is taking her dress off and the old man wanted her to take me? Friend Lambert was going to watch and if I can not satisfy her, she is going to get another man? And her Uncle is good with this? I see movement out of the corner of my eye. I keep my vision on the floor and look over to where the movement was. I see the dress draped over the back of the chair. Then there is Claire sitting on the floor beside me. Naked on the floor next to me. I kept my eyes focused on my knees. Straight ahead and down. Claire placed her bare feet up against my hip and reached over and grabbes my hurt arm. She tells me to bend my arm at the elbow to make a 90 degree angle. She then swings my arm until it is almost against the wall I am leaning against. The healer has one hand under my upper arm just before my bent elbow. Her other hand is on the lower part of my arm, half way between the elbow and my wrist.
"Ok Jamie, this is going to hurt. I am going to pull your upper arm toward me to pull the ball of the shoulder back and in alignment with the shoulder socket. If I do this correctly the ball should slip back into place when I pull it back far enough. I am not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt worse than it already does. But when I line it up, it should 'Pop' back into place and it will feel much better, right away." The healer says.
I am confused. Why does she need to be naked to fix my shoulder? My eye are fixed to the floor but want badly to look at Claire.
"Uncle Lamb, can you come take the ice from Jamie's shoulder, I need to be able to see where the shoulder ball is to correct for alignment. Thank you very much. Just put it in the sink." she says and then moves one foot up along my rib cage. "Ready? Jamie?"
I nod my head.
Claire pulls my arm toward her while pushing against me with her legs. Her legs are holding me against the wall while her body pulls my arm toward her. I can feel the arm moving with her as she pulls. I smother the painful moan I want to utter and close my eye against the pain.
"Relax Jamie. Don't tense your muscles. You're fighting me. Relax. Think of something calming. Do you have a girl Jamie? Think of your girl. That's it, that's it. Your not fighting me. Remember to breathe. Good. Relax. Don't tense. Good. Good. Almost there. Almost. Almost." Her voice sounded strained and tired.
And then there was a 'Pop'. And Claire slowly, gently releases my arm and there is very little pain. It still hurts, mind you, but the pain is more of an ache now. I grabbed my bad arm with my good hand and turn to look at my healer. She is flat on her back on the kitchen floor, her knees bent and feet still up against my hip. And she is not naked. She is wearing a man's breeks and shirt.
"It does na hurt any more, Claire." I said with relief, smile and give her knee a squeeze. I immediately realize that I have touched Claire inappropriately and remove my hand like her knee is on fire. I can feel my face flush with embarrassment.
She raised herself up on her elbow and smiled back at me in relief. "Well, don't get excited. You will not be able to use it for about a week. I will have to wrap it, and strap it to your body so it can heal properly. I need to check it and make sure nothing is torn or damaged. I also want to check the gunshot bandage as well. Let me just lay here a moment and catch my breath. I had forgotten what hard work it is to re-set a shoulder," and she collapses back to the floor.
Friend Lambert hands me a small glass of whiskey which I raise to Claire and say "Salute".
Claire looks at me and smiles. She the rolls her head to look at Friend Lambert and says, "Uncle Lamb, would you please run across the hall and ask Johnny if we can borrow some clothes for Jamie here. Pajamas and something for him to wear over the next day or two until I can get these clothes that he came in cleaned. We can not take him back to his family damaged and filthy. What would they think of us?"
"Right, Claire. I will go right now." He turned and left the room.
I heard Friend Lambert open the door, speak to someone and then the door close behind him. I turned to Claire and touched her leg with my finger of the hand that holds the now empty glass of scotch. Claire moves the arm that was draped over her eye up to her forehead and looked into my eyes. It was like a bolt of electricity running from her to me and then back to her and then back to me. I could see in her face she felt it to. Neither of us saying anything, just staring into each others eyes...
"Claire, what in the world are you doing lying on the floor in your pajamas? I thought I had been invited to dinner tonight. Do I have the wrong night?"
I turn and look up right into the face of Captain Jonathan Wolverton Randall.