Samhain Part II
I knock the back of my head against the door I just slammed shut and growl in my anger and frustration. My hands clench into tight fists just itching to hit something. "Ooohhhhh, that man is so infuriating" I pronounce to the vision of myself in the vanity mirror. "I hate you James Fraser" I shout hoping he'll hear me. I have given that Large. Idiotic. Stubborn. Fat-Headed. Scot my heart; I have somehow managed to fall madly in love with him in less than a week. I basically just laid my heart open to him, told him, in no uncertain terms, that I wanted to spent the rest of my life with him. I am willing to give up my entire life here and travel back with him to his time, just so we can be together, forever. And what is his response to this declaration of mine? He has the audacity to tell me "No, Ye ken'na go back with me Sassenach." I repeat the words out loud using a very bad Scottish lilt and shake my head side to side in a extremely poor attempt to mimic Jamie. That man has reached inside my chest, grabbed hold of my enamored heart and crushed it in his hand, with just a single word...No.
He is resolve. Resolute. The discussion is over. Why? Why does he not want to take me with him? Is he a married man on the other side of those stones? Married, with children? No, he would have told me, I am sure of it. He told me of the barmaid and the unborn child; he would have told me about a wife, especially since he was adamant about not sleeping with me. It would have been the perfect excuse to back up his refusal. That's not it. Had Jamie thought of taking me and never suggested it to me? I can only interpret this action to mean that Jamie definitely does not want me in his life as a permanent fixture. Perhaps I am not marriage material, not good enough for him or Clan Fraser. He is, after all, a Laird and I am just a working class girl. A Sassenach too. Even though Jamie says he calls me Sassenach as an endearment, it does mean An Outsider, a person not of Scottish birth and Murtagh has used the word in a derogatory context, twice, while in my presence. If I am really seen with such segregation, then I am totally unacceptable wife material in his time, to his family and friends. Oh, I am fine here, away from prying eyes, to be used as a free hotel, complete with meals and personal bed warmer. I am sure he has always assumed that he would be returning alone or then with Murtagh, after he was found. From the beginning, I was never part of that plan.
When I had the inspirational idea of going back with him, I acted on the idea because it felt right. I just knew Jamie would want me with him. That's the way it happens in the fairy tales I grew up reading. Wait for your Prince to come and then it's Happily Ever After, right? My Prince Charming's refusal was so immediate and final. That shocked me; it took my breath away. Suddenly it became clear that Jamie did not want me. Now, I was convenient, just not forever, not for always. It took me completely by surprise and left me speechless. In fairness, I had taken them all by surprise. I had simply walked into the kitchen and announced I was going. I had not consulted Jamie first. I had taken the decision completely away from him. In hind sight, it was strategically a bad move; I am betting 18th century men don't take kindly to demanding women or being ordered about by them. What would life be like for an 18th century women? Cooking, cleaning, laundry, yes, and sewing, mending and certainly having babies, probably not much more. Perhaps I would be useful tending Jamie's many wounds. But that would be all. Would he ever seek my council on any decisions? Probably not. Maybe he thought it would not be much of a life for me.
I can not really blame him for sleeping with me either. It was I that enticed him. I threw myself at him, almost from the first moment. Like a common whore. No, even worse than that, I had begged him to sleep with me. Begged him! Could I have been any more pathetic? How many times did Jamie refuse my advances? At least half a dozen by my quick count. He acted a perfect gentleman and I basically threw myself at him. I choke on that thought. A man, even a well raised one, can only say no so many times, I suppose. I look myself in the mirror and know I have finally seen the situation for what it really was. Not my imaginative dream one. No knight on a white horse will ever come for me. I really must stop believing in fairy tales.
I can feel the tears well up in my eyes. "No. No, Claire Beauchamp, you will not cry," I tell myself. "Absolutely no more tears!" I believed for the oldest line in the book... "we are meant to be together. It's our destiny." he had said. "Soul mates, my ass. The Liar!" I scream out loud. That thought really riles my dander! Throw something my mind is telling me, it will make you feel much better. "That's it, find something to break" I declare to my mirrored self. I scan my bedroom and spy the perfect object. I walk over to dresser, pick up the vase and turn to throw it at the door. When I look down at it, I am reminded that it is a much loved Christmas gift from Uncle Lamb. No, I can not break this, it has sentimental value and so I set it back down with tender, loving care. I walk to my vanity and pick up my hair brush, tossing it back and forth between my hands, like a baseball, then decide, no, it won't shatter into a million pieces like HE has shattered my heart. There would be no satisfaction in breaking something that won't shatter, so I set it back down. My eyes rest on the perfume bottle nearby. I pick it up. No, not that either, it's my favorite scent and again I set it carefully back down... and so, one by one, I find and then eliminate every object I come across; I find a reason not to throw each and every item until I suddenly realize my anger has been curtailed. I am no long irate, just sad and hurt. I want to cry but I refuse to give into the urge, I won't give him the satisfaction of bringing me to tears.
I accept that I am staying, not going anywhere, and that once again, I will be alone. No one to share my life with. I walk to the bed and remove the costume clothing and with great sadness, place it all back in the garment bag. I hang it up on my closet door making a mental note that I will need to return it to my friend. I put my pajamas and robe on, pull my hair up in a messy ponytail, pick up the small bag of coins and trudge back to my bedroom door. I really don't want want go out there, but I will be strong. When I reach the door and place my hand on the door knob, I stop for a moment and collect myself. I pull my shoulders back, take a deep breath, open the door and walk down the hallway.
When I reach the living room, to proceed to the kitchen, all three men are watching me. When I stop and meet their looks, my eyes glaring at each of them, their looks scatter like children caught in mischief making. All three, remain seated as their eyes search everywhere, alighting anything but me. They were trying desperately to avoid my angry gaze. Frank shuffles papers, Murtagh stands and stokes the fire and Jamie, well the fingers of his left hand are tapping his thigh like crazy and there is a dirt spot on the carpet that has his undivided attention.
"Humph" I snort as I reach down and grab Franks rather large glass of whiskey and continue to the kitchen. I lean back against the kitchen and watch them as I sip the whiskey. I have a direct view into the living room from where I stand. I can see their every move.
They are silent as the grave and none of them have the bollocks to look at me. I set the whiskey down on the counter beside me, I open the pillow case I have brought with me and pack it with the apples and the sandwiches I had made earlier. I place my two peanut butter and honey sandwiches in the fridge since I will not be going with them. I take the two bottles of wine I have on the counter and with the help of water, a knife and a sponge, I remove all the labeling. I dry them off and place them in the makeshift sack as well. I tie the bag closed with some twine I have in a drawer and set it on the table. I place the leather pouch with the coins and gems beside it. I finish my drink, rinse my glass out and place it in the sink to be washed later. I turn to go back to my room. This time I see Jamie is watching me and our eyes lock, for a moment. There is nothing I can read in his eyes. His face is veiled, preventing me from any hope of understanding what is going through his mind. I raise my eyebrows at him, asking silently if he has anything he wants to say, and he looks back down at his feet. I audibly sigh and continue to the bathroom. I follow my usual bedtime routine - wash my face, brush my teeth, use the loo. I will moisturize in my room so I don't tie up the bathroom in case someone else needs to use it.
When I open the bathroom door, there is Murtagh, leaning against the opposite wall, watching me with his dark brown eyes. He stance straightens when I step out into the hall and he opens his arms to me. Without thinking, I walk into his embrace. His strong arms wrap around my shoulders, holding me lightly. And, like his godson, he begins to whispers to me in Gaelic, knowing it is what I need. I know not what he says, but his voice soothes me while I cry. When I am done, he hands me a handkerchief to dry my tears.
I take a step back, to better look at this man I have only known for hours, not days, weeks or years. I sketch a mental picture of him to help me remember him by. His face is full of frown, more than I have seen all day, even at the hospital. His forehead is lined with worry. For whom, I wonder, me or them. I raise my hand and place my palm against his cheek. I move slowly so he does not think I am going to slap, as I did Jamie.
"I know things will go quickly when we leave for the stones so I want to tell you now to take care of yourself, and Jamie" I plead. "You know I will have Frank find you, straight away. I will not rest until I know you both made it back safely and what becomes of you both. Understand that if neither of you return, l will locate your final resting spot. I will make sure you have decent markers. I will visit Every Samhain and mourn your loss for the rest of my life. I make you and Jamie that pledge, Murtagh. I know a bit about honor too, you know" and with a frown on my face, I gently kick him in the shin.
"The clot-heid loves ye, ye ken that, Claire." Murtagh states knowingly and glaces in the direction of the living room. I do not follow his gaze. My eyes remain fixed on his face. "Frasers, ye see, weel, they are stubborn as rocks. Always thinking they know what is right. Even when they are wrong" and he winks at me as if we share the joke.
"You do remember you are a Fraser as well," I remind him. "That makes you equally as hard headed" and I grin. "Do you believe he is right, that I should not be going back with him?"
"Claire, my opinion does'na matter. This is between you and the lad. He has made up his mind. We, neither ye nor I, have any more say about it, aye?"
I nod my head only slightly to acknowledge that I understand what he has said but not that I agree with him.
"I will tell ye this, he'll never find another woman like ye. And if ye were mine, I would'na be leave'n ye behind," and places a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Shall I take ye ta bride then and drag ye back with me instead? Think we could make a go of it? You and me?" He asks with a flourish and gives me a half bow.
I can not help myself, I giggle like a school girl and give him a full on smile. "I think I will miss you almost as much as him, Murtagh. I am sorry our time has been so short. I should like to know you better. Do try and stay out of trouble but above all else...Live. Survive and bring him back to me, please Murtagh" and I kiss him softly on the cheek.
Murtagh turns red, almost the color of my lipstick, smiles and nods his head in response.
"I'd best get some sleep. See you in a couple of hours." I turn and walk back to my bedroom closing the door softly behind me.
If I had turned around I would have seen Jamie standing in the living room entrance, watching and listening. I would have seen Murtagh raise both eyebrows at Jamie and nod his head in my direction and Jamie shake his head No. And as Murtagh passes Jamie on his way back to warm himself in front of the fire, Jamie places his hand on Murtagh's shoulder and whispers "Ś e as fheàrr a tha e à tighinn gu crìch air an dòigh seo, Murtagh. Tha mi air a h-adhbhrachadh gu leòr pian." It is best it ends this way, Murtagh. I have caused her enough pain.
Murtagh having stopped to listen to Jamie, now turns and faces him. "Tha mi air a-riamh ceasnachadh sam bith de na roghainnean agad tro m ùile bliadhna de fios tha gille. Gu ruige seo." I have never questioned any of your choices through all my years of knowing you, lad. Until now. Murtagh completes his walk to the fire and while warming his hands, he stared blankly into the flames, contemplating his own, private thoughts.
Frank, he watches everything from his seat on the couch saying nothing.
After I have gone back to my room, I wait, sitting on the edge of my bed, hoping and praying that Jamie will come to me, one last time. Finally I give up and fold myself into the large padded chair by the window, tucking my feet up under me. I am tired but do not crave sleep. I do not want to miss Jamie, if he comes. I looked out the window, trying to find Orion. Not finding the constellation, I settle in to watch the moon. Jamie does not come to me. This is how it is to end between us, I suppose. In the early light I will watch him disappear though that stone with Murtagh and then I will go back to my old life and work. Back to my same old routine, like this whirlwind week had never happened.
Raymond and his friend and colleague of many years Quentin Beauchamp make their way up the hill called Craig Na Dun. It is a little after 3am, the moon is full but does not provide enough light for them to walk the path through the shrubs and trees. Quentin, as always, is ready for anything; he has thought to bring a couple of torches so they can find their way. It is one of the reasons he and Quentin are friends. Like a well trained boy scout, Quentin had a propensity to always be prepared. Quentin is the planner of the pair. He, himself, tends to consult the bones, waiting and watching for outcomes, adjusting as things occur; he method is more reactive. They are a good team. Quentin is the best partner he has had in many, many years. Not since Leonardo...now that man had such imagination, so curious and inventive. He will have to go back and visit his old friend in Florence when this is all over. He could do with a week of sun, pasta, stimulating conversations, wonderful art and some nice Italy wines.
"You know Claire is going back with them." Quentin states, breaking the silence. "She loves him. Jamie, I mean. She is set on spending the rest of her life with him, just as you said. Whether it is 1946 or in 1743, it makes no matter to her, and you know better than anyone how unwavering she can be when she sets her mind to something, Raymond" Quentin reminds his friend. "She has slept with him. She told me. She is absolutely glowing. Will this child be the one, do you know?"
"Yes, she is carrying the red man's child. I won't know until after she is born and I can see her aura. That will tell me if this child is the one we are waiting for. The bones say it will be a difficult pregnancy for Madonna. We will have to be watchful," Raymond comments to Quentin. Just another reason for them to keep them in this time he thinks to himself. "The child is important" Raymond states and stops walking to look around, to set his bearings. "The child is everything. The question is, does he know she is with child? His child? I am surprised if he has chosen for them to travel, knowing her condition, so I think she has not told him" and he sighs. It is important they not hide things from each other he reminds himself. They will need to be able to trust each other, implicitly. To never doubt, never question, each others hearts or motives.
Quentin sighs. "I will miss her very much when she goes. I have grown rather fond of your daughter, my friend. Perhaps you could take me with you when you visit her."
Raymond does not no how to answer his friend. He can never be sure when he will travel, where he will travel to and what will need to be done when he arrives. Claire and the warrior's safety is paramount. To bring Quentin to see Claire would jeopardize that safety. "You are right, Quentin. I could see it in her eyes tonight, the love she feels for her warrior. Like a tiger, she will protect him. That will help them get through this trial. They will always be better together. It is interesting, each thinking they are protecting the other. When they are apart, bad things will happen." Raymond reminds Quentin. "That is why it is important we keep them together and hide them well. It is the reason I am here and we are out this early in the morning, looking for the stones, instead of warm and snug in our beds, yes? "I think we need to prevent them from passing through the stones." Raymond stops and looks at his friend. The seriousness of the situation is written all over his face. "The coven in France of which I have spoken, they know of her. They know her as Claire Beauchamp, not for who she really is, nor do they know her true purpose. They only know she exists and she is a traveler. A woman who now goes by Melisande Robicheaux has slipped through the stones with the help of gems and a sacrifice. She is not a traveler but has made it to the red man's time and aligned herself with St. Germain. Both are truly dark beings. Melisande goes for another reason but the bones tell me to watch her. They have been watching the warrior and his family. Waiting for the child to come. They might begin to question Claire's true purpose if she returns with the red man to his time."
He had been frightened initially when Julia and Henry had died suddenly and under strange circumstances. After that he had given her to Quentin and had them hide in Egypt. They had remained hidden until the historian had shown up looking for Quentin, asking about French Philosophy as it relates to Egyptian Religious practices. What kind of historian, that specializes in the Jacobite Risings, suddenly becomes interested topic like that? He still believes that it was the Dark British Officer that had come in the guise of the historian. The man, Randall, that he met as they exited the flat, is not the same man that came to Quentin and her in Egypt. It would make sense that something that dark could be a doppelgänger. His error had cost him Quentin and almost Claire when she married the historian. When he found out, he had quickly tried to repair the damage and sent Claire through the stones to the red man for protection. That had been a mistake. The warrior had many enemies in his own in his time. Those damn uncles for one, the mother's brothers. All those deaths in the young warrior's family were note worthy as well. First the older brother, the true heir, then the mother with an unborn brother, and then finally the father. And then the warriors aunts too. Only the one had managed to escape to the Americas with her life. Too many family deaths for him to consider it a coincidence. That business with the British Officer, there was a dark soul if ever he had met one, and the bones said the officer would pursue the red warrior relentlessly. The pair, Claire and the red man, were found much too easily and the child was lost, before it was even born. I must not make the same mistake again, Raymond reminds himself.
"So the plan is to prevent all of them from traveling through the stones, then?" Quentin inquired.
"Yes, I think we must. I think they are safer and easier to hide here. I am very happy that his godfather is here as well." Raymond replies. "He will protect them both with his life. St, Germain now knows of the stones from Melisande. She being only a witch has knowledge of the stones but little of travelers. They will not think that Fraser can travel through the stones, to Claire. His family has no history of travelers. He will have no reason to look for them here." They had reached the stones. Raymond stops and enters the circle. The stones are already talking, buzzing like a busy bee hive. The Druids will be here soon. They will come an hour before sunrise. Quentin removes his rucksack and takes out the bottles Raymond had him pack as well as two bunches of dried sticks and herbs that are tied together.
"Do you want me to light these now?" Quentin asks holding one of the bunches up for Raymond to see.
"No, we will do that last," Raymond replies. He starts circling the outer stones, stopping at each one, laying an hand on the stone and chanting. The words are old, in a language that was never written and is hardly ever spoken any longer. There are so very few left that know of it.
Quentin stands quietly as Raymond does what he does best. Raymond is a bit of a conundrum to him. They have known each other since Quentin was in his 2nds. Raymond owned the corner Chemist Shop in the neighborhood he grew up in. A Frenchman in England, that in of itself was odd. When he started University, he worked part time at the shop and he began to understand Raymond better and they became friends. It was when he was at the site dig in Egypt that they became colleagues and part of Raymond's world. He'll never forget the day that Raymond came out of the Pyramid, carry an infant Claire in his arms, asking for his help. That he needed to hide her, to keep her safe. He came out of a partially excavated pyramid carrying a baby. It's funny, when he first met Raymond he seemed an old man with very few teeth, then in University he seemed young, and now, even closer to his own age and a mouth full of beautiful, white teeth. Raymond seems to be growing younger, as well.
Quentin is pulled back from his thoughts. Raymond is speaking to him.
"... we know Claire is his first, that is an important piece," Raymond says. "He needs to have not fathered other children prior to this child with Claire. That is essential. She has lain with no one else before Jamie, this important as well. It is another key piece. I have made that mistake in the past also. No, this time we will get it right, Quentin. The lad thinks he bedded the barmaid, not realizing she was really a local whore and already with child. Someone killed the barmaid and the child she was carrying. I am sure St. German's coven was behind it."
"I know the Druids will dance before dawn for the ceremony ends with the coming of daybreak and the beginning of winter. They will summons the sun, awaken the stones and pay homage to the old ways of travel. Their song, with it's dance and fire, opens the door of the stones, allowing travelers at a chance at a new voyage. It has happened, accidentally of course, that sometimes a non magical slips through time as well. Some make it out the other end and others do not, so say the anguishing cries of the lost souls who have tried and failed; they scream out to one as you move from one time to another. Heart wrenchingly sad to hear, I'm afraid. It has given non magical folk generations of tales, songs of travel through time and stories of stone circles that sing." Raymond whispers to Quentin. Madonna is a traveler, she needs no gems or sacrifices. She has also inherited my gift for healing and herbs; she heals through empathy. Her gift is strong though she will not come into her full power for many years yet. The red man will help her find her true self."
"You say each circle has it own unique voice or call and not all circles can communicate with others. Are some circles are stronger than others as well?" Quentin inquires.
"Some sit on stronger, more magical spots. Some are out in the open like Craig na dun. Others are hidden in mountains, at the bottom of lakes or beneath cities. You can find them if you know where and how to look, and listen." Raymond says. "Someday maybe I can show you more. We need to get Claire and her Red Man hidden and settled first."
"I have been doing my research into this coven of druids. Frank has even introduced me to the coven's, a Mrs. Graham." Quentin notes with pride in his voice. "She is quite kind and very knowledgeable, but does not really understand scope of why she perfoms this ceremony nor it's ramifications. She just knows that her Grandmother did it, and it is hers to continue and pass to her granddaughter. I know this particular coven is very old and strong. Every other generation of the same family line has been the Caller since the 12th century. The witches of this particular family are famous and very powerful. We are lucky that they are innocent of their true abilities and that they are white witches, Raymond."
"Yes. Exactly Quentin." Raymond readily agrees. "We are very fortunate indeed. Now let us light the dried herbs and then we must hid ourselves before the Druids arrive and begin their song."
I knew immediately something was wrong. My eyes popped open and I sit straight up. It is still dark and I wait for my eyes to adjust to the pre-dawn light coming from the window. I look around and find myself on top of my own bed with a blanket covering me. Not a blanket I realize almost by the feel alone, his plaid. The one we had purchased together. The last thing I remember was sitting, curled up in the armchair, looking out my window. The air in my room had a cold chill to it. I never closed my window last night. I climb out of bed, wrap the plaid around me and walk into the hall.
Silence. You could hear a pin drop. And I knew. They are gone. They had left without me. Gone forever, without so much as a good bye.
I run down the hall, just to make sure, silently praying they had changed their minds and decided to stay. My bare feet quickly hustling down the cold wooden floor. I note that bathroom and Lamb's bedroom doors are both open as I hasten by. No one is in either room. I know the answer before I reach my destination. Frank would have made sure they were up and gone with plenty of time to spare. My heart stops beating as I turn and look. Not a living soul in the room. The fire, embers still glowing, has been recently banked. The pillows and blankets are folded and stacked neatly on the otherwise empty couch. The settee, Jamie had repeatedly called it and I swear it is still warm to the touch. They have not been gone long. I close my eye for just a second and see Jamie sitting there telling me his heart, dressed in the neighbors borrowed clothes. Was it really only 5 days ago? If he has gone through the stones he is just a memory now. Just a ghost.
I turn to the kitchen. I hope, against all hope, that I will see him smile at me as he looks up from his bowl of porridge, but there is no one. The light is off. The sack of food I had left is gone. The pouch of coins is still there. Damned Stubborn Scot. Like a rock maybe, but he had been my Rock Headed Scot. Mine no more.
I move to the window to see if I can spot them, call out to them to wait for me, I want to come. I scan down the street and across to the park. There's not a soul to be seen. Frank would have driven them. It would be too far to walk.
I turn and walk to the bathroom and turn on the shower. Time to re-start my life. I will go to work and forget all this has happened.