Chapter Eight:
The next morning, Claire wakes up, feeling more rested than she thought was possible. She's also in her bed, which she finds odd, seeing as the last thing she remembers was dozing off on Jamie's shoulder.
He must have carried her up here.
He's gone, she knows that much, but she smiles to herself nonetheless, sinking further into the bed. She brings the neck of her t-shirt up to her nose, inhaling his scent that once again is absorbed into the fabric.
She begins to cry as the weight of the last few days hit her like a tidal wave. She blames the jetlag for making her extra emotional, so she stays in bed a little bit longer, crying for the husband she thought she lost and the boyfriend she loves but needs to break up with. Crying for her daughters who have their father back, but also crying because she knows the girls love Frank. She thought she'd cried most of this out in Madrid, but apparently not. All of it is too much and her only response is body-wracking sobs.
She buries her face in her pillow, trying to muffle the sound so she doesn't wake the girls. The last thing she needs is for them to find her like this. She wonders how the girls are really handling it all, knows Faith is intuitive enough that she'd hide any sadness from Claire so that she didn't feel bad; she is so like Jamie in that way.
After another few moments, she collects herself enough to pull her face out of the pillow, her tear stains leaving large, dark circles on the pillowcase.
She looks at her cellphone, noting the time. It's eight in the morning, and she knows the girls will likely be up soon, so she drags herself from the bed. She hops in the shower, letting the warm spray awaken her senses as she washes her face, hoping it brings some color back to her skin.
Once out, she throws on another set of comfy clothes—gray yoga pants and a t-shirt—enjoying her last few days of freedom before she has to start getting dressed again for the hospital.
She doesn't bother with much makeup—just some concealer to hide the dark circles under her eyes—throws her hair in a messy bun, and gets her contacts inserted before heading to check on the girls.
Both are still dead asleep, so she takes a moment to watch them before heading downstairs. She'll start breakfast at least, knowing the smell will rouse one of them from sleep, and they'll wake the other.
Before the pancakes are even done cooking, she hears little pitter-patters of feet descending the stairs.
"Morning, babies," she croons, kissing each of their heads as they come to stand beside her, peering into the frying pan.
Brianna leans up on her tip-toes to peer over the top of the counter, checking to see what Claire is making. With a shrug, and clearly no desire to help, she scurries off to the table and picks up a coloring book she'd tossed there moments ago.
Faith saddles up beside Claire, however, and she hands the little girl a spatula. She giggles as she stands in front of Claire on a small step stool, asking, "Is it time to flip yet?"
Claire nods and helps guide Faith's hand to flip it, both of them cheering when it turns over correctly.
Bree must hear their excitement, because before Claire can blink, the little whirlwind is by her side again, bouncing on her heels and asking to help do something.
Laughing, Claire checks that Faith is alright with the pancakes while she briefly steps to the refrigerator to grab the carton of eggs.
"Grab a bowl," she instructs Brianna, pointing toward the cabinet.
Brianna takes one out, holding it up for Claire's approval. She nods, smiling as Bree sets it on the counter.
"Should I take this pancake off now, Mama?" Faith asks over her shoulder, and Claire hurries to check it.
She tells her she can, and Faith gingerly scoops the pancake from the frying pan and places it on the plate Claire had already set out.
Pouring another glob of batter into the pan, Claire hands Faith the spatula again. "Watch it for a few minutes. When it has bubbles all over, you can flip."
Faith nods studiously, and Claire focuses back on Brianna. She's standing there, impatient hands on her hips, and Claire chuckles. "Here you go, darling," she says, handing Brianna an egg. "Crack that against the side of the bowl."
Bree tries, little tongue peeking out in concentration, but her egg shell busts and pieces fall into the bowl. She huffs, claiming she can't do it, but Claire instructs her to pick out the shells. "You just have to keep trying."
She kisses Bree on the cheek, turning her head to look to her right and check on Faith. The pancake is still slowly cooking, so she knows she has another minute or so to help Brianna.
She takes Bree's hands, cracking the egg with her against the bowl, showing her how to do it quickly so the shell doesn't crack into quite so many little pieces.
Brianna laughs when the yolk falls into the bowl with no shell, bouncing on her step stool. "Look, Faithie! I did it!"
"Good job!" Faith praises, her own tongue poking out of the side of her mouth as she tries to flip the pancake with no assistance.
Claire watches over them both carefully, reaching over to help Faith so she doesn't burn her arm.
Once all the eggs have been cracked, she hands Brianna a whisk, knowing this part will be much simpler. "Now mix them all together," she instructs, and Bree gets to work.
Claire helps Faith pour and flip three more pancakes before she declares it enough. Faith steps down, going to the fridge to collect the apple juice and take it over to the table.
Smiling at how mature her oldest seems preparing breakfast, Claire glances over to Brianna, helping her pour the eggs onto the frying pan. "You go help Faith set everything up while I scramble these right quick."
Bree nods, happily hopping down and skipping over to the table. She slides into her seat, opening her coloring book back up and Faith huffs. "She said to help me, not color."
Brianna just shrugs, going back to her picture and Claire watches as Faith rolls her eyes on the way back to the refrigerator. "Useless," she mumbles, and Claire has to bite her lip to stifle her laughter.
"Faith, be nice."
The little girl huffs again, smiling sweetly as she grabs the container of pineapple and takes it to the table.
Claire salts and peppers the eggs, finishing them up and dumping them into a large bowl.
"Brianna, put the coloring book away," she says, "Come grab the eggs and take them to the table."
Bree hops up, taking the bowl from Claire and setting it on the table for everyone.
Faith grabs the syrup and butter while Claire takes the plate of pancakes to the table as well.
They all sit, piling their plates full of eggs, pancakes, and the canned biscuits she'd made earlier, and she makes a mental note to try and squeeze in a gym session after work one day this week.
{***********************}
After breakfast, and once the girls have had time to sufficiently wake up, they make their way down to the playroom while Claire finishes cleaning the kitchen.
She joins them soon enough, laughing and playing Sorry! down in the basement.
Things feel normal like this, and it settles Claire somewhat, at least for a little bit.
"Is Daddy coming over today?" Brianna asks, "or Frank?"
Well, shit. That cut right to the core of all her current insecurities.
Taking a deep breath, she runs her hands through Bree's hair, pulling her in between her legs so that she can braid her long, auburn locks.
"I'm sure Daddy will come over today," she says, finishing the braid and tying it back with the extra rubber band around her own wrist. She rubs Brianna's back and sighs. "Frank probably won't be around as much now, girls," she explains hesitantly, not wanting to get into all the complicated details of her two relationships.
"Oh," Bree sighs, her shoulder slumping. "Is he still going to come to buy Girl Scout cookies from me?"
Claire chuckles, saying she's sure he will. She knows they're thrilled to have Jamie back, but they also care for Frank, so it'll be hard for them to understand that they can't have both men in their lives. It'll be a hard transition, she's sure, but it's far too complicated to try and explain right now.
"Frank said he'd come to my next recital," Faith says, a hint of disappointment in her voice, "But I guess him and Daddy can't both be there."
Claire goes to placate her crestfallen little girls, but Bree pipes in with a, "Why not!?"
Rolling her eyes, Faith huffs, "Because, silly, no one can know Daddy is alive. Remember?"
Bree slumps back further into Claire's lap with a mumbled oh yeah and fiddles with her doll that's in her own lap.
Claire pats Brianna's leg, motioning for her to get up so Faith can get her hair done. The girls switch spots, and she ties Faith curls into a cute little top knot.
She sends them upstairs to bathe and change out of their pajamas, Brianna asking in dread, "Do I have to put on a dress?"
Laughing, she tells her no, then points to her own attire. "Just something comfy so you're out of pajamas." Bree nods, and as the girls bound up the stairs, Claire adds as she trails behind them, "And toss your pajamas in the laundry room! I need to wash all of our clothes."
With the thought of laundry looming over her, she makes her way up the other flight of stairs, chasing Bree up each one as she drags her feet, making the little girl squeal.
While the girls shower and get ready, Claire starts laundry, sorting the clothes into darks and lights before tossing in the first load.
Her phone goes off, and she reaches for it, thankful these yoga pants have pockets.
I just woke up lol it reads, causing her to smile. She'd finally saved Jamie's new number, under Alexander Malcolm, of course, but seeing his name on her screen gives her a sense of calmness. Jet lag hit me hard. Can I come by for lunch?
Grinning, she decides to just call him instead, hitting the phone icon on the screen. After a few rings, he picks up, his groggy voice giving her such a strong sense of nostalgia that it almost knocks her over.
Leaning her shoulder against the wall in the laundry room, she greets him, thanking him for putting her to bed last night. "I was exhausted," she huffs. She feels bad he had to carry her up the stairs and into bed, but deep down, she knows he didn't mind. "But to answer your question: of course you can come over."
She can hear Jamie's smile through the phone as he tells her he'll be there for lunch and they hang up, Claire putting some clothes into the dryer.
Before she can grab her phone off the washing machine to put away, it goes off again. Smiling, she looks down, but this time, it's from Frank.
Can I come over today? I can bring lunch for us all.
Fuck. She really hates this. It'd be much easier if Jamie had 'died' in a plane crash and came back years later like in Castaway or something, at least then Frank would understand why she was being distant, would allow her time to spend with Jamie and let him bond with his children. But this… the not being able to tell him, really makes it all seem so sketchy, like she was going behind his back with everything.
She writes back, giving him an excuse about everyone being too tired and needing to unpack and do laundry before she goes back to work on Monday. He says he understands, but she knows he's disappointed. She would be, too.
{*************************}
An hour later, Jamie is there, ringing the doorbell.
The girls both squeal with excitement, racing toward the door.
Claire watches as they attach themselves to his legs, laughing when Jamie tries to stomp toward the kitchen with the weight added to him.
She helps him out, taking the bags of food from his hands so he can at least steady their squirming bodies against him as he trudges into the kitchen.
Peeking into the bag, she sees that he brought food from her favorite Mexican restaurant, and she worries he went inside to pick it up.
"I ordered it online, had it delivered tae me," he says as a way of explanation, smirking.
Damn her glass face giving every single thought away. Just another reason she needs to avoid Frank.
"It's a bit cold, so why don't you go play with the girls while I heat it all back up?"
"Are ye sure?" he says, brows furrowing, "I can help, I dinna mind."
Claire waves him off, putting on her best Scottish accent as she says, "Dinna fash," wanting him to have as much time as possible with his children.
Jamie grins wildly at her attempt to sound like him, scoffing and telling her, "Yer accent has no' gotten much better, Sassenach." And he laughs as Faith and Brianna giggle and take his hands.
The girls drag him to the backyard, and as Claire dishes out the food from the aluminum containers into bowls and plates, popping everything in the microwave, she watches with a smile on her face as Jamie chases the girls around the yard and down the slide of their swingset.
Their peels of laughter echo into the house, and a warm feeling encompasses her. She loves this, but suddenly a thought hits her: Should he be outside like that? They're not in Madrid, free to roam around with less worry hanging over their heads. They're in Georgia, just twenty-five minutes from where he was shot.
With that, she makes her way over to the back door, calling them all inside.
As the girls rush off to wash their hands, Jamie asks if she's alright.
"I just got worried," she confesses with a shrug, "What if someone sees you out there?"
"In the backyard?" he asks, his head tilting.
She rolls her eyes, knowing deep down she's being ridiculous, but she worries and doesn't know how to handle all of this.
Jamie wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. He kisses the top of her head, assuring her it will all be okay. "I ken ye're worried, Sassenach. If it makes ye feel better, we'll no' go outside anymore."
"Thank you," she says, stepping out of his embrace. "Now go wash your hands."
"Yes, ma'am."
Grinning, she plates all of their food while they wash up, and once they're all done, they sit around the table like the little family they were always meant to be.
{**************************}
After lunch, while munching on the leftover chips and queso on the table, Bree looks to Jamie, asking, "Daddy, will you have a tea party with us?"
Faith giggles beside her sister, nodding in agreed excitement over the question.
"O'course, I will!"
Their daughters hop up excitedly, both taking one of his hands and dragging him down the steps to the playroom, Bree's explanation of what other members would be at the tea party—a life sized Barbie, Faith's favorite teddy bear from years ago, and Bree's plastic horses—floating back up the stairs to Claire.
With a content sigh, Claire stands, throwing away the remaining items and rinsing off the food that is stuck to their plates before setting them in the dishwasher.
She gives the girls and Jamie time to settle into their tea party, honestly enjoying the little bit of silence she can get before going back to work on Monday.
She spritzes the countertops with her favorite Mr. Clean spray, wiping it down and feeling accomplished when the kitchen looks and smells nice and clean.
The desire to relax on the couch and read a good book takes over, but the need to watch Jamie with their children far outweighs it.
Taking her time, she grabs her cellphone, tucking it into her pocket. She turns the kitchen light out, heading down the basement stairs.
The sight that greets her is one she's not likely to ever forget, and before she gets noticed, she snaps a picture, wanting to capture this to look back on later. She'd made a hidden folder this morning just for instances like this. She knew she couldn't have pictures of Jamie on her camera roll, but hidden away for just her to see would be okay.
Jamie is sitting in a plastic, child-sized chair, knees bent and resting far above the top of the table. He's got a little bejeweled tiara on his head, purple feather boa around his shoulders, and giant clip-on earrings attached to his earlobes.
The girls are in much the same get up—a big, floppy pink hat on Faith's head, a pair of leopard print cat ears on Bree's. Both are decked out in all their dress up jewelry—beaded necklaces, plastic bangles clanging together when they move their arms, earrings and big, sparkly diamond rings—as Faith serves the pretend tea to the table and Brianna talks in her best British accent impersonation.
She started doing that last year, much to Claire's amusement, as her daughter tried to sound like her.
Jamie tries to use a posh accent as well, thanking "Milady" for the tea and sipping on the invisible beverage.
"Ye're quite welcome," Bree says, bowing her head, her little Scottish voice popping out.
Jamie's eyes light up, and Claire wishes so desperately that Murtagh and Jocasta could be here to see this. Their uncle always got a good laugh when one of the girls would let an Och or a ye slip over their tongues, claiming no matter what, the Scot was in them both.
"Cake for you, sir," Bree says, offering him the plastic strawberry cake.
He accepts it kindly, making dramatic munching sounds as he pretends to nibble the dessert.
"Daddy!" Bree admonishes, "You're supposed to wait until everyone has been served!"
Her little hands are on her hips, and Jamie looks rightfully chastised. He sets the cake down, sheepishly apologizing to his daughter, and Claire has to bite back a laugh.
"It's alright," she comforts, patting his shoulder sweetly. "It's just polite to wait, okay?"
"Aye," he chuckles, his smirk growing, "ye're right, lass."
Brianna nods proudly, as if she'd just taught him the most important lesson, then reaches over to Faith who is serving the other party guests, taking a cup from her.
Claire cannot help it any longer, the sight of Jamie watching to make sure everyone has been served too much to handle, and she bursts into laughter.
"Mama!" Faith squeals, her blue eyes lighting up as she waves her over. "Come join us!"
"Why, thank you," she says, taking the small chair next to Jamie.
She's still giggling as she looks at him while the girls work together to rearrange the cups and plates, making room for one more guest.
Their eyes meet, a flirty glint to each of them. She loves this. They feel like a real family; this is the type of lazy Saturday afternoon she always dreamed of them having together. Frank never played with the girls like this, always claiming he felt too silly, but he'd watch on as she played with them. She never really minded, but now seeing a man interact this way with her girls, a warm sensation begins to grow inside her heart.
As they wait for Faith to dish out the cake and Bree to pour the tea for their toy horse, Cory, Claire lets her pinky subtly rub along the side of Jamie's hand, silently asking permission to hold it.
Jamie smiles, taking her hand in his and giving it a light squeeze. His knee gently knocks into hers, both smirking at one another as Brianna gives the rules for the tea party—waiting til everyone has been served, which she cuts her eyes to Jamie on that one, cleaning up your crumbs, and making sure each guest feels welcome.
Claire smirks as their youngest finishes, and Faith announces they may all dig in.
And for the next hour, the four of them sit at that tiny plastic table, Jamie's knees looming over it and her back aching from sitting in the small chair for so long. They sip their tea and eat the pretend cake and crumpets, all the while Faith and Bree take turns telling Jamie about their school, their teacher and all their friends they have there.
"Mrs. Austin is the best!" Faith exclaims, telling Jamie all about her teacher and how they're working on a project in reading. "We're making dioramas about the book we've been reading." She grins, obviously excited about the project. "We started before Spring Break, but when we go back on Monday, we're going to finish our boxes and present them!"
"That's verra cool. Are ye ready?"
"Yep!" she squeals, "I basically finished before break, I'll probably just help Lori with hers. She's my best friend, but she doesn't really like the project, so she's not done yet."
Jamie smiles, saying he would love to see it when she brings it home, and Claire beams at the thought.
"I'm making numbers with base ten blocks!" Brianna announces, clearly wanting to be a part of the conversation. "I really like Math."
"That's wonderful, a leannan. Numbers can be verra challenging for some people."
He looks over to Claire, pride shining in his eyes as Brianna continues rambling on about how they're learning tens and ones in first grade, but, "My teacher, her name is Miss Green, works with me and another boy on the hundreds place because we understand tens and ones already!"
Jamie chuckles, praising her. "That's braw, lass!"
Bree admits that one girl in her class makes fun of her at recess for being smart, but she just ignores her now. "Mama told me not to ever let anyone make me feel bad for having a brain."
Claire chokes, giggling as Jamie laughs, too, saying, "She's right. Dinna fash over people who're jealous of ye."
Bree nods, and Claire isn't sure if the message was received by the six year old, but maybe one day it'll set in.
Faith stands after a few more sips of tea, showing off her ballet skills to the party guests, Brianna making the life-sized Barbie's hands clap for her sister.
Brianna tells Jamie about her horseback riding lessons, and Jamie tells her all about Donas, her little golden eyes lighting up as she asks to meet him one day.
After the tea party is all cleaned up, they head upstairs, the girls running off to the living room while Jamie helps Claire put away the dishes.
He's quiet, and she worries that something may have happened this afternoon that she didn't pick up on.
She takes a cup from his hand, smiling apprehensively as she moves to put it away. Before the silence can kill her, she asks, "Everything okay?"
Sighing, Jamie rests his hands on the counter, looking over his shoulder at her. He makes a grunting sound in the back of his throat, and spins, pressing his back into the counter, his strong arms crossing over his body as he faces her. "It's nothing serious, Sassenach."
At his words, she can feel her shoulder visibly relax, and he smirks, reaching out a hand to summon her closer. She slings the dish towel over her shoulder, coming to stand next to him.
Their shoulders are pressed together, both of their bodies facing the refrigerator. She watches him from the corner of his eyes, his own gaze fixated on the photographs on the large appliance before them.
"Brianna," he says quietly, looking down at Claire. "I told ye I dreamed of her, no?"
She nods silently, and he continues, "I always imagined her, the same little face popping up in my dreams. I wasna sure of her name, o'course, but I saw her, Brianna. Just as she truly looks in all the old pictures ye've shown me."
Claire bites her lip, not wanting to break this moment, wanting to let him speak.
"Today when we were playing, her hair fell over to one shoulder, ye ken?" He shrugs, looking back at the photos. "I saw a wee birthmark behind her ear."
Nodding, Claire murmurs about the dark spot their daughter has always had.
"I saw it, the birthmark, in my dreams, ken. Always saw myself kissing that wee blemish when she was just a bairn." He sighs out a shuddering breath, and Claire can tell he's trying not to cry. "I dinda ken it was real, until today, that my dreams were somehow truly connected to her."
Her eyes mist over, hating Master Raymond and anyone else involved that took this wonderful man away from them for so long, that made him miss out on all the little moments of learning who his children really are.
"Och," he breathes, trying to chuckle and lighten the mood. "Just threw me for a second when I saw it, 'tis all. Just nice tae know I was always here, somehow, even if it was just in my dreams."
Nodding, she scoots closer, lifting one of his arms from his chest and loops it around her shoulder as she snuggles closer to him.
He kisses the top of her head, and they stand there for a few weighted moments, both scanning over the pictures on the refrigerator once more.
There's one of Jenny, Ian, and their three kids—Jamie, Maggie and Kitty—standing with Claire and the girls in front of a waterfall. It was from one of their visits to Scotland, and Claire takes her phone, sending Jenny a text, remembering she hadn't spoken to her since landing back in America.
We're home and unpacked, just trying to sleep as much as possible before going back to work and school.
She closes her phone, glancing up at Jamie. His eyes flick from her phone to her face, smiling sadly. "How is she?"
"She's good," Claire nods, "and Ian and the kids. That's their youngest, Kitty." She points to the baby in the photograph. "She's two now, and she and the rest of them are always so excited to FaceTime the girls."
He smiles at that, sighing, "I canna believe how big wee Jamie and Maggie have gotten." He eyes mist over as she stares at the picture. "Maggie was just a babe when I left, couldna even crawl."
She smiles sympathetically, rubbing his back. He glanced over at Claire, then back to the fridge, saying he's glad they still keep in touch, and Claire scoffs a laugh, shoulders shaking. "You think Jenny would have let me disappear after your death?"
Jamie snickers, pulling her even closer still, his nose nuzzling into her brown curls. "Definitely not."
After a few moments, the girls' laughter brings them back to reality, and they make their way into the living room, Claire's fingers linked with Jamie's.
With that, they spend the rest of the day together—playing, talking, and enjoying one of the last days of Spring Break as a family—and as Claire settles into bed that night, she realizes that not once during the day did she spare a thought for Frank Randall.
{**********************}
Just some fluffy family goodness since we've had so much angst lately lol… hope you enjoyed! Please review!