AN: I haven't said it in a few chapters, but I must reiterate how much I love seeing your reviews. Thank you for each and every one!
Chapter 6
Frank should have taken the Scot's advice and stayed put. If he hadn't allowed curiosity to defeat him, then he wouldn't have followed the man over to Claire's haystack and sat on the opposite side as them—out of sight, but certainly capable of hearing their kisses, their conversation, their soft laughter, and their overwhelming concern for each other when the talk turned serious.
He had approached the haystack when he heard her cry out the Scot's name. He heard her say that when given a choice about staying with Jamie or returning to her own time, that she had chosen to stay. He heard Claire say that Brianna was named after his father—she had never divulged the reason for her choice of name to him. He heard a strange bit about King Louis XV. He heard the Scot say that Jack Randall had tried to rape her and that she still thought of it when she looked at Frank.
Memories swirled in his mind. The myriad of times she had flinched and pulled away. He hadn't known about the near-rape or the resemblance. He'd never wanted to hear details and it had prevented real understanding of all the issues affecting their marriage. He wasn't to blame for his ancestor's actions and yet he really couldn't blame Claire for flinching at his touch either.
How much did his resemblance to Black Jack Randall create a barrier between them?
Also he vividly overheard how much they meant to each other. He had tried to convince himself differently for years. But, there was a depth to the conversation between Claire and the Scot and to their interaction that he had never achieved with her—not even before the war or before Craigh na Dun.
He wanted to hate the Scot; he certainly resented him and yet when it came right down to it, the man had somehow managed to gain his grudging respect.
Frank rose to his feet and paced away from their haystack; he had heard enough.
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About five minutes later, Frank saw Claire and the Scot coming round the haystack, holding hands. As soon as Claire's eyes met his, she dropped it and walked quicker over to him, reaching him first.
The three stood for a moment in a dreadfully awkward silence. As the fulcrum between her English and Scottish husbands, Claire had the responsibility to speak first.
Claire positioned herself between the two men, "Frank, Jamie, I've spoken to both of you about the other—about my other husband—but I never anticipated this moment. I never thought it would be possible for you two to meet. I know this is difficult, but just know that I..." Claire struggled to find the best word, "…that I care for both of you and that you are both good and honorable men. And I know that both of you would do anything necessary to find and protect Brianna. I hope that can be enough common ground at present to maintain…civility."
Jamie looked from her to Frank, obviously measuring and studying him just as carefully as he had done in their first encounter. He was the first to nod. "Aye, Claire, ye have my word."
"Frank?"
He looked at Claire, his mind still reeling from what he had just overheard and still trying to process all the connotations and all the opportunities with his wife that he had so casually thrown away over the previous seven years. He bit his lip to ward off tears; Frank was determined that neither of them would see the heart-wrenching difficulty of this moment. Although Claire and Jamie were no longer holding hands, Frank could still sense the presence of some invisible tether tying the two together and certainly separate from him. When the moment of impending tears had passed, Frank managed to nod in response.
Claire audibly exhaled in relief. "Jamie, I'd like you to meet Frank Randall. Frank, this is James Fraser."
After several moments hesitation, Frank offered out his hand.
The handshake was not a typical greeting in Highland Scotland, but Jamie recognized the gesture and shook it in response.
Jamie looked at Claire when the moment was over, "Right, let's get yer horse to the stables and gather provisions to leave in the mornin' We'll have a fair bit of hard riding as I'd like to get to Inverness the mornin' after."
Frank cut in, "Who's the we that you're talking about?"
Jamie gave a sidelong glance at Claire. "The three of us: me, Claire, and yeself."
Frank scoffed, "Okay, just checking."
"I'm not yer enemy Frank."
"Seemed like you were when your knife was at my throat, Fraser."
Claire's eyes widened at that statement, but Jamie's explanation satisfied her, "When I saw ye on me land, it made far more sense to assume Jack Randall afore Frank Randall. It won't happen again though."
Claire turned to Jamie, "What should we tell your sister and Ian? They're in mourning and I don't want to disrupt their lives."
"It's fine, Claire, but we should decide what to tell them as we canna introduce Frank as yer other husband."
Claire shook her head, "No, we can't. And Frank, just so you're aware, Jenny had a bad encounter with Jack Randall, so just be prepared for her reaction when she sees you."
Concern overshadowed Frank's face. "Did he assault her? With just burying a child, I don't want to add to her discomfort."
Jamie waved him off, "I'll explain things. Can we just say yer the brother of Claire's first husband? It should suffice fer explaining yer traveling together and yer concern for the bairn."
Frank rolled his eyes, "Brother of the first husband," he repeated, obviously displeased. "And you're the…never mind. Fine."
"The bairn!" Claire said in a flourish of excitement and sprinted over to the horse to retrieve the bag that Mrs. Graham had packed for her. "Jamie, a friend of mine packed this satchel for me while we were searching for Brianna in 1955. I found that she sent something you might like to see." Claire pulled out a small framed color photograph that Mrs. Graham had thoughtfully packed and that Claire had found on the second night.
"I can't show you this up at the house, of course, but I want you to see it," Claire handed over the photo. "This is your daughter. This is Brianna."
Jamie grew wide-eyed and his eyes darted to Claire's face and then down at the photo.
"It's not a drawing or a painting," Claire explained. "It's her exact likeness."
Jamie put a tentative finger to the photo, tracing the outline of her form. "The lass…she's bonny. She's so verra bonny." He sniffed loudly, "I've wondered about her…and you a thousand times. Nay, ten times ten thousand times. I canna believe all the miracles this day has brought me." He smiled down at the image his little girl. "Yer right. She's got me hair."
"And a fiery temper to match," Claire added.
"Aye, I can see the Fraser spark of mischief in her eyes. Can I keep this—in secret like?"
Claire gifted him with a broad smile, "Of course."
"Thank ye," Jamie pulled Claire into a hug and kissed her hair.
Feeling completely extraneous and out-maneuvered, Frank could only turn around and look away in frustration.
A few moments later, Frank heard the Scot's voice calling him and he slowly turned around, a sullen expression on his face.
"Thank ye too Frank. I'm beholdin' to ye. I'll no be forgettin' the debt I owe ye."
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As the three approached the stone archway with the Fraser family crest overhead, Jamie turned to Claire, "Lemme go in first and prepare Jenny regardin' Frank's appearance and no be troubled. It'll make things easier."
Claire nodded, "Is there anything I can do for her regarding wee Jamie?"
He just shook his head.
Allowing Jamie the head start afforded Claire an opportunity to look around Lallybroch which had obviously fallen on hard times since she was last here. The estate was never flush with cash and plenty, but meager offerings and the Laird's absence for many years were apparent in the missing roof shingles and the protruding rib bones of the few cattle grazing nearby.
Jenny emerged at the front entrance, her belly full with another child. "Claire, I've missed you verra much—especially the smile ye inspire on my brother's face. I didna know when he said you were gone if he meant gone for good, but I kept hopin' that ye would show up one day as mysteriously as ye left. And it seems I was correct, showing up with this curious gentleman," she turned to indicate Frank, "that my brother assures me may be like Captain Randall in looks, but no in disposition. I hope me brother is right or he'll likely be fertilizing our vegetable garden afore the next full moon."
Claire squeezed Jenny tighter, "Believe me, Frank is nothing like Jack. Oh it is so good to see you again and I was so sorry to hear about your boy. You have my deepest condolences. I know because of Jamie's and my Faith that although gone, you will always keep him in your heart. I always think of Faith on her birthday and when I see little girls that would be her age. And yet, I can't imagine how difficult it would be for you. You know wee Jamie's laugh and his smile and his personality. I feel my offerings and my words are so small, yet they are truly meant."
"I know, me dear sister. Tonight, let's celebrate yer homecoming."
Jamie cut in, "It canna be too much as we leave on the morrow. Our daughter is missing. Claire came here hoping for help—never expecting to find me here, thinking I had fallen at Culloden."
Jenny looked at Claire wounded, "Ye have a child by me brother, me own flesh, and never thought to write me and tell me? A letter woulda found its way to Lallybroch I'm sure."
Claire looked saddened that she had offended her sister-in-law, "I couldn't Jenny. I would have, but…"
"But, ye have yer secrets," Jenny turned to Frank, "which I'm sure include ye in some way, Mr…"
"Frank Randall," Frank offered.
Jenny threw her brother a look; she didn't understand all the complications that Claire brought with her, but Jamie trusted her and her advice had saved the farm during the famine, so she just rolled along with it. "Randall? Perfect," she replied with a slight hint of sarcastic resignation. "Mrs. Crook, would ye show Mr. Randall to one of the guest rooms? Claire can find her own way back to the Laird's room, I'm sure."
Jamie broke in, "Lady Lallybroch also will be staying in one of the guest rooms—at present."
Jenny turned to Jamie with an astonished look and Claire silently thanked him for making an awkward and near impossible situation slightly better by speaking up as the Laird.
Jenny was still as forthright as ever, "Ye canna mean that, brother. The way ye two would go on fer hours? Ye think the whole house couldna hear and ken what yer doing?"
Jamie gave a side glance at Frank and hoped that would be the end of his sister's embarrassing questions. "I'm sure I ken me wife's mind well enough. Thank ye Jenny. And thank ye Mrs. Crook for showing both Mr. Randall and Lady Lallybroch to some guest quarters."
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Claire was desperate for a change of clothes and washing the outfit that Mrs. Graham had given her before they set out again from Lallybroch. Despite Claire's best preemptory efforts, the dress was far gone with the smell of sweat and the road. She didn't know when might be her next opportunity for a washing and had very gratefully borrowed one of Jenny's outfits while her outfit was quickly laundered for the morning.
It also felt strange for her to shift focus from the everpresent worry about her daughter and the sublime occurrences of seeing Jamie, knowing he was alive and free, and he finally got to learn of his daughter and see her image and then to now shift to the mundane of smelly clothes.
Even Frank and Jamie meeting each other did not seem as unbearably awful and tempestuous as she would have thought. They were both civil to each other and seeming to respect the necessary boundaries created by this singular situation.
As a teenager, she remembered seeing some of the black-and-white Hollywood movies in which a woman was pursued and loved by two men. Twenty years earlier, it had seemed so romantic and dramatic and yet now that she was dealing with the reality, it just felt awful. She knew that someone was going to get hurt and she knew who that would likely be and that inevitability would hurt her too. And she had promised herself that she never wanted to hurt him again. And yes, it would be painful and awful, but at least it would finally be an ending—an ending that they had been avoiding for years.
She wanted her life with Jamie; despite the intervening years with Frank, she still felt like she belonged to Jamie. But wanting and having were two different things. There was a wall between them now. She needed to take some time and just stare at the wall, hoping that Jamie and their future was on the other side. Claire needed to decide what to do about that wall.
All the walls that she and Jamie had needed to overcome during their marriage had been cultural differences due to the time travel or external ones. She had never thrown down roadblocks and had never determinedly turned away from him. She was amazed that after everything she had gone through just to be with him that she was finding herself in that position now—she wasn't in the Laird's room where she knew she belonged. It was only fair though; she owed Frank far more than just a passing consideration.
Claire looked out the window and spied her dashing husband seeing to the horses for the travel tomorrow and to their tack and feed. It was a minor, almost trivial consideration that she almost felt bad thinking it, but she missed seeing her husband in his kilt. She hoped he still had one and that she could prevail upon him to wear it sometimes indoors for her. Imagining that, remembering times in the past set her ablaze until she was interrupted by a knocking at the door.
She schooled her features to appear more placid, but when Frank saw her, he knew her well enough to not be fooled.
"May I come in?" he asked politely though.
She gestured him in and he entered, looked at the surroundings for a bit before glancing out the window and noticing her view. His face turned to disappointment.
"I think we should talk," he began, "about the developments of today."
Claire nodded, "Jamie…"
Frank interrupted her, "I mean about Jack Randall."
"Jack Randall?" she repeated, confused.
"I realize there was much that you were prepared to tell me when you came back and much that I did not want to hear. I will own my part of that. I should have allowed you to speak more. If I had, I would have learned how closely I resemble him. I would have learned what he did to you. Well, I'm here now and ready to listen. Will you tell me what he did?"
Claire was thrown by the direction Frank was taking this. Today they had learned that Jamie was alive and free. Today, he had met Jamie. And yet he preferred to talk about dead Jack Randall?
"He threatened twice to rape me, but I was saved both times. First by Murtagh—dear me, I haven't asked Jamie about Murtagh!—and the second time by Jamie. However, from what I now know, he would strip women bare to humiliate them and to embarrass their menfolk that looked helplessly on. That's what he did to Jenny in front of Jamie when he was but 19. He punched me in the stomach too once, so hard that I fell to the ground, fighting to regain my breath and he ordered a corporal to kick me in the stomach. At Fort William, he stripped off my top and grabbed my breast. I felt some strange connection to you in that moment as though this time and our time were strangely joined—I know it's bizarre, I suppose I just wanted to dissociate myself from what he was doing and try to make a better connection. As to the attempted rapes though, in truth, I doubt I was in danger of actual rape by him—his interests laid elsewhere," she spat out bitterly.
Frank took her hand in his, "Do you see him when you look at me?"
Claire gave him a long look. This conversation was too similar to the conversation with Jamie by the haystacks to be coincidence. In that moment, Claire knew that Frank had listened in on her reunion with Jamie.
"When you first saw me in the hospital and I cringed, it's because I saw you as Jack Randall. It has happened other times as well, but that first instance was the most vivid."
Claire looked down at their joined hands; he had moved closer to her so that their bodies touched.
His voice dropped lower, "Now that I know and understand, so much can change between us."
Claire bit her lip, "Frank, please, let's keep our focus on Brianna right now."
Frank put his finger beneath her chin and edged it up to create the best angle to kiss her. Realizing his intention, she quickly turned her face away, "I'm sorry."
Frank immediately dropped her hand, "What? You'll kiss him and not me?"
"Frank, it's not that simple."
"It is too that simple. You are still my wife and I may—may!—be willing to share you for the present. However, don't treat me as though I'm nothing to you. I deserve more than that. Now let's start again, please."
Impossible situations. Craigh na Dun had given rise to so many impossible situations. Here was one more.
Claire scanned the room, desperately hoping to find something to ease the unbearable tension. "I'm sorry Frank. I just can't."
Frank took a step toward her, put his hands on her cheeks, and gave her a passionate, possessive kiss anyway, his hands veering for her breasts. Claire stood there frozen for a moment, unbelieving that Frank was actually doing this—betraying the trust that they had re-established over the last seven years.
Claire pushed at Frank's chest. Feeling her struggle, Frank came back to reality, pulled out of the kiss and looked into Claire's face. Hideous realization washed over him, the shock on his face as plain as on hers.
He stepped back, "Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm profoundly sorry. I regret that. I'm not Jack Randall though. I'd never hurt you. You must know that."
Claire who had been standing frozen, except for a slight tremble in her hands, now felt compelled to action. She lifted her right hand and brought it hard against his face.
The sound of the slap reverberated through the bedroom and Claire flinched; she'd done that harder than she'd intended.
Frank did not flinch though. He stood still, feeling the sting of her slap still across his cheek. He didn't bring his hand to his cheek or bite his lip, he let a few tears fall and they remained on his reddened cheek, unchecked. "I shouldn't have kissed you like that, but I didn't deserve to get slapped either. When you came back to me, you made promises and I took a leap of faith with you. Don't you dare tell me all that is negated now."
Claire took a step back, widening the distance between them even more, "I said that I can't. After the week of searching and not knowing about our daughter, I realize that today has been a…a…trying, emotional day and Brianna is still missing…"
"I know she's missing," Frank spat out. "I love that little girl and I'm in hell too if my feelings still matter at all to you. Maybe they don't, maybe it doesn't matter now that you've got yourself one husband too many. She is still my daughter and I'm the only father she's ever known. If you think I'm just going to stand aside and let any other man steal my wife or my daughter, then you are wrong."
Claire steeled herself for giving an aggressive response; this argument was quickly flaring into a conflagration.
Frank, seeing Claire adopting a battle pose, calmed himself, "You're correct of course. The stress is overwhelming me. I miss Brianna, I'm scared for her, and I just don't want to picture what is happening to her. Please, just try to not make things worse for me."
Claire took another step backwards, feeling half guilty and half incensed that he was blaming her. She forgot the presence of a little side table. She knocked it over and sent a little glass box crashing to the floor.
She immediately heard boots pounding on the stairs towards them and a second later, the door crashed open.
"Are ye okay?" Jamie asked, out of breath. Question asked and answer apparent, he took stock of the surroundings, Frank's presence, and the thick tension in the room.
Jamie asked again with a different meaning this time, "Are ye okay Claire?"
Frank spoke up, "Sorry about your little knick-knack, but we're fine and you're interrupting."
Jamie wasn't mollified on Frank's say-so, "Claire?"
She gave him an unconvincing smile, "We're okay, Jamie."
At that, Jamie gave her a long look and stepped back to the threshold of the room and closed the door.
The sound of that door closing was one of the loneliest sounds Claire had ever known.