Virginia Reel
The tiny viewscreen of the scanner showed mountains. Green mountains.
"Hardly Penzance, is it?" The Doctor said, rubbing his chin. He gave Zoe a side glance that held both sympathy and a touch of censure.
Zoe stared at the scanner, brow furrowed in confused dismay.
"I don't understand …"
"So mich fer yer calculations," Jamie said with a smirk.
Zoe lips tightened and her jaw jutted out but that was all the reaction he received. Her eyes remained riveted on the scanner as she racked her brain.
"We haven't gone very far from Baltimore either, in distance or time," the Doctor continued. "Welcome to the Appalachians," the Doctor announced, "the Blue Ridge Mountains to be precise, the Shenandoah Valley, to be even more precise. 1931."
Zoe bit her thumbnail. "Where did I go wrong?"
"A question only yer mither can answer ..."
"James Robert McCrimmon," Zoe said archly over her shoulder, "are you deliberately trying to provoke me? Because if you are it's not working." Zoe raised her chin and strode away to stand by the Doctor.
Jamie smiled. What better way for them to get back to normal than to resume his usual teasing?
The Doctor reached and patted Zoe's shoulder. "Let's look about while we're here. We might as well."
—
The Doctor, Zoe, and Jamie stepped tentatively out from the Tardis.
They found themselves on a plateau blanketed by wildflowers and beyond that a wide vista opened before them.
"It's beautiful," Zoe breathed, her annoyance with Jamie forgotten. Her eyes followed the contours of the mountains that dipped into deep valleys, purple in the early morning sunlight. As the range continued into the distance the peaks faded to light blue. As she scanned the landscape her eye eventually met with Jamie who stood on her left. He seemed just as taken with the mountains as she—perhaps even more so.
"It's like the mountains of home," he murmured, "except more trees." Jamie blinked rapidly to dispel the sudden moisture in his eyes.
Zoe felt an impulse to reach out and squeeze his hand but refrained when she remembered she was still annoyed with him.
A strong breeze suddenly rose up from its descent into the valley after barreling through the peaks.
It swept over the trio; rustling hair, coat, and kilt. The early spring sun was not yet warm enough to chase away the chill of the mountain air. Zoe gave a perceptible shiver. Jamie instinctively gripped Zoe's shoulder to keep her warm. The gesture, so natural for Jamie, made her feel a little guilty for not taking his hand earlier.
With little heed to the temperature the Doctor started down a path off to the left.
"It must be around April, there's quite a few mertensia virginica along this path."
Jamie and Zoe knew there was nothing to be done but to follow him.
"I'll grab our coats," Jamie said ruefully.
—-
"There are a few communities around these parts," the Doctor explained as they walked along. "Some close together, some further apart. The people here are what one might call mountain-men, or more derisively "hillbillies". Fiercely independent lot."
Jamie grinned. "Sounds like my kind o' people."
"Indeed, Jamie," the Doctor said with a grin of his own.
To their left the ground fell away a bit, creating a burn, a rushing stream peppered with stones and flanked by weeds. The group looked down at it as they walked, admiring the water.
The Doctor broke into snatches of song, humming the parts where he had forgotten the lyrics.
"In the Blueridge Mountains of Virginia on trail of the Lonesome Pine … la de dum dum dum … our hearts entwine where she carved her name and I carved mine … hmm-hmm … like the mountains I'm blue, like the pine I am lonesome for youuuuuu …"
"Tha's a bonny wee ditty ye're singing there, Doctor. What's it called?"
"I believe it was called 'Lonesome Pine'—or was it 'The Blueridge Mountains of Virginia'? Either way, I saw it performed in a Laurel and Hardy motion picture once—"
Zoe cut in preemptively when she saw the young Highlander open his mouth. "A motion picture is a sequence of consecutive still images photographed in a series by a specially designed camera in such rapid succession as to give the illusion of natural movement."
"Oh, aye … ?"
Jamie's face and body language took on the overly casual air he always adopted when he was drawing a blank.
"And a camera—"
"I ken wha' a camera is," Jamie snapped, his flimsy pretense dropping.
Zoe smirked. She had got a little of her own back. The victory was cheap, though, since it was bought by virtue of her futuristic knowledge at the expense of his 18th century ignorance.
It was a funny thing, that despite the vast difference of time separating their lives they read each other well and knew how to get under each other's skin.
A sudden shout of alarm from the Doctor pulled Zoe out of her musings. She looked up in time to see him go rolling down the burn hill.
"Doctor!"
She and Jamie scrambled after him as fast as they could. Jamie, able to keep his feet in this kind of terrain, reached him first. Zoe was a bit slower, cautiously picking her way, not wanting to pitch headlong into the rocky stream.
"Doctor, are ye hiurt?"
The Doctor sat up and shook his head. "Just a bit bruised. I was a bit over-enthusiastic in my bluebell hunt—caught my foot on a root, think."
"Can you stand?" Zoe asked as she and Jamie helped the Doctor up.
"Yes. Though I'll probably be sore in a few choice places come morning."
"Who's there?" An unfamiliar voice demanded.
The trio turned and found themselves staring down the barrel of a shotgun.
The Doctor and Zoe automatically put their hands up, the dearly won bluebells dropping from the Doctor's fingers.
The owner of the shotgun raised an eyebrow when he saw the flowers flutter to the ground. The stranger was a man of about fifty, mustached, with a strong grizzled chin. He wore a well-fitting, if slightly frayed, wool suit with a crisp straight collared shirt underneath. The man's eyes flicked from the Doctor and Zoe to Jamie whose hand was on his dirk.
"None of that, boy. Hands up."
Jamie grudgingly raised his hands.
"Now, who are you? You don't look like revenue men …"
"Revenue … ?" The Doctor repeated dumbly, but in the next second his face lit up with understanding. "Ah! No, we're not with the Treasury Department."
The man's eyes narrowed. "That dang-blasted developer commission, then?"
"No, no."
"Then who are ya? Yer not from around these parts. Ya sound English."
"Ah—well … I am a professor, you see. A—er … Doctor John Smith from the—ah—college …"
"Shenandoah?"
The Doctor nodded. "Shenandoah."
"Professor of what?"
"Botany." The Doctor sent a significant glance to the bluebells at his feet. "And these are two of my students, Zoe Heriot and James McCrimmon. We were just on a little outing— field studies."
The man lowered the rifle slightly. "McCrimmon?"
"Aye … ?" Jamie replied warily.
"Hey!" The man called over his shoulder. "Andy! C'mere!
It was then the trio saw an small open shelter, sitting a few paces beyond the man. They had been so focused on the rifle, they had not noticed it earlier. Another man, younger, had been sitting in the shelter by a large enclosed metal kettle. He had been watching the exchange but had not left his post by the apparatus.
"My name's Jack Donaldson, this here's my brother, Andy."
Andy jogged over and, after taking a gander at Jamie, exclaimed "Is that a kilt?"
"Aye …" Jamie still frowned with confusion, but a cautious smile played at the corner of his lips. "Is that a whiskey still?"
"Yup!" The pair beamed. Anyone else asking that question would have been shot.
"Can I have a wee look?"
"O' course!"
The Doctor and Zoe exchanged baffled glances.
"What in the world is going on?" Zoe hissed to the Doctor as they followed Jamie and the two mountain men.
"Kindred spirits," he answered with a grin.
—
At the Donaldson's brothers' insistence the trio agreed to accompany them back home.
The brothers' transportation of choice was an old Ford Model T— in the backseat of which there was just enough room to squeeze Jamie, Zoe, and the Doctor. Zoe, being the smallest, sat in the middle.
During the ride the Doctor peppered their hosts with questions to pass the time and to keep them from asking too many of their own.
The Doctor put his arm along the seat behind Zoe to give her more room; she naturally, and companionably, leaned against him. But, she also leaned out of necessity: on her other side with his arms crossed was Jamie, pressing his body against his side of the car as much as he surreptitiously could. Both were desperately trying not to think of their last car ride together.
Thankfully, it was not long before Andy announced "Welcome to Scots' Hollow."
The Doctor and his companions found themselves motoring through what amounted to a very small town that seemed to be cut into the mountainside, making it practically invisible from the valley.
There was a little general store, a post office and a church.
"Our school house is just up the hill and around the corner," Jack said, pointing vaguely ahead.
"Good heavens," the Doctor murmured to himself. "I didn't expect …"
"What Doctor?" Zoe asked.
"Oh, nothing."
"You folks showed up at a great time." Jack said over his shoulder. "It's the anniversary of our founding."
They continued up the side of the mountain for another mile, passing the odd cabin and shack here and there. Some were better made than others; one looked like it was just about to fall over.
But at last they turned up a dirt drive lined with rough-hewn beams woven together to create a fence. By those were rows of flowering trees: Virginia redbuds, cup magnolias and Callery pear. Beds of blue irises.
At the center of this riot of color was a large, two story house that seemed to be sitting in a nest made of forsythias and azaleas. It was "L" shaped with a tin roof and unpainted wooden shingles. Lace curtains fluttered out of open windows.
The Doctor glanced at Zoe. Her large eyes could not have gotten any bigger.
"I've never seen so much green, or so many flowers in my life …" she murmured in nearly reverential tones.
The moment they disembarked from the jalopy, other smells besides flowers hit the trio.
"Och," sighed Jamie, "Is that breakfast?" He quickly put a hand to his mouth to hide the drool. Zoe pressed a hand to her growling stomach and the Doctor visibly swallowed.
"Naw, breakfast was over hours ago. Yer smellin' the fare for tonight's festivities. But, if yer hungry, I'm sure my wife can spare a few morsels. JANE! C'mere, woman!"
Presently a woman in her late forties came bursting out of the front door. She was dressed in a simple cotton day dress and apron. Her flour dusted, copper-colored, hair was pulled loosely back into a chignon, leaving fly-aways to curl about her heart-shaped face. The expression on that face was stormy and she brandished a rolling pin. An Appalachian Boudicca.
"John Donaldson, where'n heaven have ya been? I asked you to chop more wood for the stove, not go off with yer brother to make moon-" She then noticed The Doctor, Jamie and Zoe cowering behind her husband. "Who are they?" She asked, pointing her rolling pin at them.
"They're from Shenandoah College-"
Mrs. Donaldson's face suddenly lit up. "Are ya here about Lucy's application?"
Jamie and Zoe immediately looked to the Doctor.
"He's not from the admission board, hon'," Jack interjected. "He's a botany teacher—or Professor, rather.
Mrs. Donaldson's shoulders sagged a bit. "Oh." Her eyes dropped to her rolling pin and she started as if just remembering it was there." A light blush came to her face and she gave the trio a sheepish grin. "This is not how I usually treat guests."
—-
The Donaldsons had nine children, all of which were huddled around the kitchen entrance, looking curiously at the newcomers. Jane Donaldson proudly introduced every one of them. "Lucy, Martha, Sophie, Jacob, Caleb, Mary, Isaac, Nathaniel, and baby Abby." Held by Martha, three month-old Baby Abby—who had been contentedly mouthing her fist up to this point—on hearing her name promptly blew loud raspberries in greeting.
The trio were treated to a small breakfast of bread, tea, and a few slices of cold ham from the larder.
Zoe nibbled and sipped delicately. So this was the earth food that Jamie went on about? All Zoe had known was nutritious but tasteless items that she had had on the Wheel or what was dispensed by the Tardis canteen. It wasn't bad.
Jamie of course wolfed it down as if he had not eaten in days, and the Doctor enthusiastically ate his portion.
The oldest, Lucy, was a tall, willowy young woman with an oval face, a dusting of freckles on a long slender nose and fine strawberry blonde hair, similarly styled to her mother's. She brought a jug of milk to the table.
"I want to enter Shenandoah to become a public accountant," she said to the Doctor. His eyebrows rose with appreciation and a little surprise.
Mrs. Donaldson, measuring out flour from her Hoosier cabinet, said over shoulder. "Lucy has always had a good head for numbers. She's been balancing our household account books since she was twelve— and this year she's our valedictorian!"
The Doctor's eyebrows managed to go a tic higher.
"Well done."
"Yes, well done!" Enthused Zoe. "I love numbers, too."
Jamie leaned over and whispered to the Doctor, "Greeht, now there's two o' them …"
The Doctor shushed him then hid a grin behind his tea cup.
"If you ever have any questions," Zoe continued, "you can ask me. I have—I'm studying pure mathematics with a concentration in astrophysics. I know it's a bit different from accounting …" Zoe trailed off when she noticed Lucy looking at her with an overawed expression. The rest of the family regarded her as if she had grown a second head. Jamie and the Doctor's had their eyes trained on their plates.
"Thanks …" Lucy said slowly. Awkward silence followed.
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Zoe suddenly directed to Mrs. Donaldson eager to switch focus after her clear misstep.
Mrs. Donaldson's face lit up.
"Oh, that's kind of you. Sure! You could finish kneading this bread for me while Lucy and I run down to the barn to check on things."
Zoe's expression must have betrayed a bit of panic.
"Have you not made bread before? Kneading is easy." Mrs. Donaldson gave Zoe a quick demonstration. "Just do that until …" she looked at the clock on the wall "quarter past and then cover it with the cloth, then set this timer for half an hour." She plunked an egg timer in front of Zoe.
Mrs. Donaldson then turned to Jamie. "Can ya chop firewood, Mr. McCrimmon?"
Jamie got quickly to his feet. "Aye, that I can."
"Jacob will show you the way."
A boy of fifteen with his wrist in a sling stepped forward and beckoned Jamie with a jerk of his blonde head.
"How'd that happen, laddie?" Jamie asked as he got up to follow.
Jacob enthusiastically launched into a harrowing tale of a football game with his cousins.
"As for you, professor of botany," Mrs. Donaldson said, turning her hazel gaze on the Doctor, "how are you with arranging flowers?"
—
The Doctor flexed his fingers. He had just finished stuffing his last mason jar full of flowers, twenty in all. Mrs. Donaldson had sent him to the barn where the most of the rest of the Donaldson brood and the other inhabitants of Scots Hollow were clearly setting up for the celebration that was hinted at in the car.
The Doctor was the only man at a long table that would later be for food. At this moment it was a bouquet assembly line. He did not mind; he was having a grand time chatting with them and listening to them swap gossip. He found the drawl of their mountain brogue fascinating and tried to place its various possible origins.
Occasionally a few of the ladies would break away from these conversations to ask him about the scientific names of the flowers, or other similar questions. They listened very attentively to his answers.
"The way that Latin jist rolls off yer English tongue is divine!"
The Doctor's blushed a little and adjusted his bow tie. "Well, thank you, my dear. You know—and I hope you ladies will not take offense — I blame it on my lack of extensive knowledge in your particular culture, but, your little community here is much more … advanced … than I expected."
The school marm of Scot's Hollow, Violet Petrie, just happened to be also at the table. A pleasantly plump forty-three year old with striking violet eyes and waved honey-hued hair. She straightened her already perfect posture and pinned the Doctor with a grave look.
"Don't believe everything you read in the papers, Dr. Smith."
The ladies around her murmured in agreement.
"Oh?"
"Those newspaper photographers crawled all over our mountains to find the most down-in-out of us—those who keep themselves to themselves. Now every John Q. Public thinks we're all a bunch of backward inbreds, sufferin' away up here."
The Doctor leaned forward, intrigued.
"And why would they do that?"
"So they won't feel so guilty later."
The Doctor racked his brain, trying to remember the history. "Who? About what?"
"Oh, Violet," exclaimed an older woman beside her in exasperated tones. "Let's not get into that now. Not today."
The expressions on the rest of the women's faces were trouble but they seemed to be in agreement with Violet's detractor.
The Doctor decided not to probe, for now.
—
Jamie straightened from his last swing and surveyed his growing pile of firewood with satisfaction. He arched his back then rolled his right shoulder, which was starting to feel a bit sore. A breeze cooled the perspiration on his bare skin. Jamie had taken his black turtleneck off—wearing black while doing manual labor under a warm spring sun was not ideal.
Jamie looked up at the nearly cloudless blue sky and breathed deeply of the earth-scented air. He started singing a tune:
"By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond, where me and my true luve were ever wont to gae on the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond …"
This was nice. This was familiar.
He could feel his spirits rising.
"O' you tak the hie road and I'll tak the low and I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye, but me and my true luve will ne'er meet agin on the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond …"
This was something he knew how to do; not that he had had much call to chop in his own time. On the Isle of Skye their fuel had consisted of peat and the average dwelling was constructed of stone and thatch; and it was not every day he helped fashion new beams for the thatch to go on.
Jamie turned back to the log pile for a fresh wooden victim.
"'Twas there that we parted in yon shady—"
"You're using too much force."
Jamie twitched with surprise and whirled around.
Zoe was standing a few feet away in what Jamie had mentally dubbed her "puzzling pose": Her weight was shifted to one side, head tilted, left arm was across her waist while the other was raised to her chin, pinching it between her index finger and thumb. Jamie snatched up his shirt.
"Turn around."
"Oh, Jamie, stop being silly. It's not like I haven't seen a half-naked man before."
Jamie was so nonplussed he just stared at her instead immediately putting his shirt back on.
"Ey?"
"In the Wheel's exercise center Leo often stripped his shirt off to show off—especially when Tanya was there. I never understood why Tanya found his over-abundance of muscles appealing."
Jamie did not reply but was hastily rolling up his shirt to the collar to work it over his head.
"I think your smaller muscles are better, aesthetically speaking," Zoe continued artlessly.
Jamie's head came out of the turtleneck collar with a "pop". He stared at her wide-eyed, the complexion of his outraged expression alternating between white and red.
"Your rectus abdominus and linea alba have some definition, but your build is more in the shoulders, arms and legs, the ones you naturally use most often—what? Why are you looking at me like that? It's a compliment."
Jamie opened and closed his mouth like a dying fish before he managed to say, "If that's yer idea of a compliment I dread yer insults!"
"Anyway," Zoe said crisply, not to be deterred, "Mrs. Donaldson is ready to bake her bread and sent me to gather what you cut. Looks like you managed to make a decent pile despite your inefficient methods."
Jamie looked up as he struggled to work the shirt down his torso which was still sticky with sweat. "Inee fish … wha'?"
"You're putting too much force behind your swings. Are you experiencing muscle fatigue sooner than expected?
"Aye …" Jamie said slowly,
Zoe then proceeded to throw out terms like the law of inertia, applied force, mass and velocity. "... Let the momentum of the heavy blade do the work, you'll save energy and increase accuracy." Zoe flashed him a self-satisfied smile. "It's basic physics."
"Basic physics …" Jamie repeated flatly. He picked the blade back up and with one last, angry swing stuck it into the chopping block.
"Still too much force."
"Ye reckon?" Jamie snapped and stalked back toward the house.
—
When they got back to the house Mrs. Donaldson recruited both Jamie and Zoe to peel potatoes. She had seated them in chairs, set three pounds of spuds at their feet and a bucket for the peels, plus two buckets of water for the finished potatoes to sit in until needed—to prevent them from turning brown.
She then bustled out of the kitchen to tend to something else.
When Jane came back ten minutes later she stopped and surveyed both Jamie and Zoe's progress.
"Miss Heriot, have you never peeled potatoes before, either?" She asked incredulously.
Zoe looked sheepishly up at her then back at the potato that was now significantly smaller than it was before—and this was her second one.
"Mr. McCrimmon here knows his stuff!"
Jamie was happily shaving the potato skins away with a deft hand, twenty potatoes in his bucket. song running underneath his breath in rhythm with the peeling.
"Potatoes are popular in Scotland," Jamie said giving a pleasant smile to Mrs. Donaldson then cast a vindictively smug smirk at Zoe before settling back to his task and his song.
—-
The sun was low in the sky when Mrs. Donaldson said "Well!" with a satisfied sigh. "Done at last!"
By this time Zoe and Lucy had been working on pie crusts. Both were equally dusted with flour.
"Ye look like a pair o' bogles!" Jamie laughed.
"Alright, kids," Jane Donaldson said. "You need to get ready. Lucy, you think you can find a frock for Miss Heriot? And Jacob, see if we can rustle up a fresh shirt and and jacket for Mr. McCrimmon that may fit. Maybe your Uncle Andrew might have something, they look about the same size."
—-
Lucy tilted her head as she surveyed the frock from her small collection that she put on Zoe.
"Hmm … It's too big in the bust area and the skirt is too long. Let me see if Martha has anything she can spare."
Zoe's cheeks burned. Martha was twelve.
Zoe knew she was short and small and it had not had not bothered her before. Why was it bothering her now?
It's an objective fact, Zoe. It's pointless being annoyed over an objective fact.
—
By five o'clock the entire community had descended upon the Donaldson farm. All were dressed in their Sunday best chatting excitedly among each other. Children and young men and women broke away from their families to link up with their friends and sweethearts.
Back at the house Jamie was studying his reflection in the foyer mirror. Jacob and his uncle couldn't procure a shirt for Jamie, but were able to lend him a fawn colored corduroy jacket that went well with his black shirt.
A handsome young man about Jamie's age came through the back door.
"Is Lucy here?"
"Gettin' ready upstairs," Jamie informed him.
"Still? Women."
"Aye."
The young man put out his hand. "The name's Tom Buchanan." Jamie shook it.
"Jamie McCrimmon."
"Yes, I figured you were, what with the kilt and accent n'all. So, really no relation to our McCrimmon?"
"A lot of people are askin' me tha'. Who is he?"
"He's our oldest resident and the one with the closest connection to the old country. His parents came here in about … 1840 '45? While the majority of us are descended from those who came here in around 1758 during the first wave of clearances."
"'Clearences'?"
Tom, who had been watching stairs, shot Jamie an incredulous look.
"You say you're from Scotland yet you've never heard of the Highland Clearances?"
Jamie flushed and tried to play it off. "Och, yes, those Clearences. O' course."
Tom caught sight of Lucy coming down the stairs and the conversation was promptly forgotten.
Lucy wore a yellow frock with puffed sleeves and sheer overdress dotted with a pattern of daisies. A sweetheart neckline emphasized her chest and shoulders.
Following uncertainly behind was Zoe.
Jamie also momentarily forgot his conversation with Tom as he surveyed the Donaldson sisters' handiwork on his friend: For a start, Zoe's bangs had been curled to reveal a pretty forehead that was usually covered by fringe.
The gown was a pattern of coral and yellow rose clusters on a field of light blue with capped sleeves and a jewel collar punctuated by tiny blue ribbons tied into bows. The bodice material was gathered around a diamond shaped panel in the center of her chest. It nipped in at the waist and the rest was left to flare out into the skirt. Her cheeks had a rosy hue and her small, Cupid bow mouth was painted red.
Tom shyly touched the gauzy fabric of Lucy's puffed sleeves. "You look beautiful, Luce."
"Thank you," she answered with a pleased smile. She then held up two sprigs of bluebells along with two straight pins.
"Here Zoe," Lucy said, "put this on Jamie."
She passed a pin and bluebell into Zoe's hands. Zoe watched Lucy pin the flower to Tom's jacket lapel then approached Jamie.
"Don't stick me now, though I ken ye want to." Jamie murmured.
Zoe flashed him a smile. "Don't tempt me."
Once the flower was fixed Jamie put out his arm to her. Zoe looked blankly at his proffered limb.
Jamie jerked his head toward Tom and Lucy who were walking arm and arm out the door.
"It's jes' something people do, Zoe."
"Why? I can walk perfectly fine on my own," She said matter-of-factly.
Jamie dropped his arm and rolled his eyes. "Och, fer heaven's sake! Naever mind." He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and made for the door.
Jamie was a few feet from the house when he heard the crunch of shoes running up behind him. The next thing he felt was Zoe's small hand lacing through the crook of his arm.
—-
The huge barn had been transformed. Lanterns hung on posts and sat on tables, bathing the space in a warm glow. The longest table was set up to one side, lined with food and flowers. At the other end of the barn, a dais had been constructed and a group of men were setting up instruments: violins, banjos, a bass guitar, even a small upright piano had been wheeled on. Right in front of the dais, a sizable square of space was kept empty.
"It's a ceilidh!" Jamie exclaimed.
"A what?"
"Almost, Jamie," said the Doctor appearing suddenly by their side with Ms. Violet McIntyre on his arm. "It's a barn dance, but quite like your ceilidh in most respects."
A portly gentleman dressed in a blue serge suit stepped onto the dias.
"That's Minister Evans," provided Violet.
"Okay, folks," the minister's voice boomed, leaving no doubt he was well heard in church. "Why don't we start off this annual celebration with a dance? Get our appetites a-goin', though I doubt we'll need much help with such fine fare as we got here today. Let's start with a familiar favorite: the Virginia Reel!"
A cheer from the crowd.
"To our out of town guests, please join in, it's reel easy," Evans gave a hearty laugh and his congregation gave a collective groan.
The Doctor and his fair partner eagerly joined the throng. Jamie turned to Zoe, his palm open and his eyebrows raised.
Zoe hesitated for only a moment before she said "why not? It looks like fun!"
The men and women separated to form two lines facing each other. Minister Evans called out the movements.
"Forward with a bow, and back—swing your partner …"
Zoe's favorite part was sashaying down the aisle of people while they created an arc of arms over them.
Zoe, being the quick study she was—picked it quickly. Jamie and the Doctor had a little more difficulty, but everyone was gracious and easily laughed off any flubs on their part.
When the dance was over the Doctor, Zoe, and Jamie collapsed onto chairs that had been lined up along the wall. Violet went to refresh herself with a glass of punch.
"And now," began an announcement from the bandstand, "to change up the pace and cool down a little: a foxtrot."
The Doctor leapt to his feet. "Oh! I love a foxtrot!" He turned to Zoe and held out his hand. "Would you care to take a turn with me, my dear?"
Zoe took his hand but looked a bit daunted. "I don't know how …"
"Oh it's quite simple, I'll show you."
"What's a 'foxtrot'?" Jamie asked, intrigued.
"Oh, I forgot," the Doctor said, "you don't even have the waltz yet in your time."
The Doctor led Zoe a few feet away from Jamie so he could observe the steps. He could see the Doctor direct Zoe to put her left hand on his right shoulder and he kept her right hand clasped, held out to the side. Then the Doctor put his hand around her waist and drew her slightly closer. Jamie, who had been slouching in the chair, straightened.
"Now, I'm going to walk forward two steps and you go back two steps. Good. Now, we're going to step to the side, feet together, quick … slow, slow, quick! Slow, slow, quick!"
Zoe, of course, picked it up almost immediately and was traveling around the floor with the Doctor as easily as if she had been ballroom dancing all her life.
Crossing his arms and sitting back, Jamie shook his head in admiring wonder.
Less than a minute later though the Doctor danced Zoe back to where Jamie was sitting. With a mischievous smile he offered Zoe's hand to him.
"Now you try."
Jamie unfolded his arms and sat up. He looked between Zoe and the Doctor. Zoe looked smug.
"Afraid?" She teased.
Jamie jumped up. "Never." He took her left hand in his right and rested his left hand on her waist. Zoe's careless smile faltered a bit. She proceeded to give Jamie instructions
Despite hurt toes and run-ins with other dancers, they were going along reasonably well, though she could not get Jamie to stop glancing down at his feet.
Jamie and Zoe could not help but laugh and smile at each other as they shared this new experience.
"I meant tae say it earlier …" Jamie began with exaggerated casualness, "but ye do look bonnie, lass."
Zoe's smile grew even wider. She gazed up at him, her dark eyes shining with amusement in the low light.
"I hope that means 'pretty' Jamie."
Jamie rolled his eyes but it was with good humor. "Aye, Zoe, it means 'pretty'."
Zoe inclined her head. "Well, thank you. And you look …" She trailed off as she struck by a sudden and inexplicable shyness.
"Aye?" Jamie prompted with a teasing edge,
"Very nice."
"Verra nice? Verra nice? I say ye look bonny and all ye can say is I look verra nice?"
The music stopped and they applauded along with the other dancers.
"Yes, anything more might go to your head, then you'd be impossible," Zoe said with a smirk, feeling more herself again, and strode away toward the food table.
Jamie looked after her then mimed throttling an invisible neck.
"Nae if ye drive me out o' ma heid first."
—
Jamie and Zoe lost track of each other for a bit after that because, of course, Jamie collected the food at the long table out of order, while Zoe, used to canteen lines, naturally went with the flow of the people.
At the end of the spread there were glasses of lemonade and a large, attractive bowl of cut glass. It full of an amber liquid that fizzed with thin slices of dried apple floating on top. That looked much more exciting than lemonade to Zoe. She ladled out a portion into one of the matching cut glass punch cups.
Zoe spotted Lucy sitting with friends. They had arranged a few chairs in a circle so they were all facing each other. Lucy looked up and, spotting Zoe, waved at her to come join them. Zoe felt the warm thrill of inclusion and happily made her way over.
—
Jamie was making his way toward the Doctor—who seemed to be in close conference with Violet. He had satellites of older admirers milling around him. An amused smirk rose to Jamie's lips. "Ey, ye old scowf …"
As Jamie got closer he could hear the Doctor say, "if Alexander the Great had lived, would there have been a Cleopatra … ?" The rest was unintelligible. Then he heard Violet's enthusiastic response, "Indeed General Ptolemy might've been just a footnote in history!"
"It does boggle the mind!"
Jamie burst out, "Och, really, Doctor?"
The little group looked up at him.
"What?" Asked the Doctor, startled.
"Nevermind … "
Jamie turned away with an exasperated roll of the eyes, then he felt a pluck on his sleeve.
Jamie turned to see a wizened old man with a wild white beard standing before him. He was dressed in his Sunday best, like the rest, albeit a bit shabbier. He had a lanky frame and if his back were not bent he would have been taller than Jamie. One gnarled hand gripped a cane, the other was thrust out to Jamie.
"Name's Charles McCrimmon. Charlie to my friends."
Jamie nearly dropped his dish. He frantically looked about for some place to put it down but had to resign himself to gripping the plate with one hand and shaking the old man's with the other.
"A pleasure, sir."
"Charlie, kid. Charlie."
"Charlie."
"So you're the McCrimmon lad I've been hearin' about."
"Aye."
"I was born in Scotland myself, but I was just a babe when we left. Don't remember any of it."
Jamie could hear a very faint trace of the familiar brogue in his voice. "Where did yer parents come from?"
"Skye a-course, where all the McCrimmons come from—that is until the Highland Clearances of 1840."
Jamie opened his mouth to ask, but remembered Tom's shocked look and refrained. He would ask the Doctor later; he was sure to know.
"Can I ask you a favor, son?"
"Aye?"
"When I heard about you I brought this …" Charlie bent down to pick up something he had set on the floor before plucking Jamie's sleeve.
Bagpipes.
Charlie fumbled them and Jamie surged forward to eagerly gather the instrument into his arms as if he were cradling a child.
"These were my father's," he said stroking the wool with a sad smile. "Do you know how to play?"
"Do I know? What self-respecting McCrimmon does nae ken how tae play the pipes?"
"Oh, it does me a power-a' good to hear ya say that. I don't have the wind anymore to play it and none of my kids were interested in learning. They're all gone now, moved away to the city.
"Near the end of the dance they always ask me to come up and say a few words about our history. When I'm done, I'd like you to come up and play the pipes—put a period to the evening."
Jamie swallowed the lump in his throat. "I … t'would be an honor, sir—Charlie."
Charlie's mouth split into a wide grin, and despite the missing teeth, Jamie could see a glimpse of the younger man he once was.
Suddenly instrumentation was heard from the dais.
"Sounds like they're getting ready for another dance." Charlie took the bagpipes out of Jamie's hands. "Enough blatherin' with this old man, you go find a girl and take a turn."
It did not take long for one to find Jamie. The Doctor was not the only one popular with the ladies, much to the chagrin of the younger men.
—
"Nothing like a dance to help you forget your troubles, at least for a night!" Yelled Mable, one of Lucy's friends, to the group over the music.
Zoe's eyebrows rose. "Troubles? Things seem so peaceful up here, I find it hard to believe you have troubles."
"Even Eden had its Serpent," Lucy said.
Zoe did not get the reference. She looked around the group quizzically. The animated gaggle of girls had become strikingly subdued.
Finally another young woman spoke up.
"A few years ago neighboring mountains started gettin' visits from commissioners from the Department of the Interior in Washington, you know?"
Zoe had heard of Washington, D.C., so she nodded.
"They want to make our whole mountain a 'National Park' for city folks to drive through and gawk at— to 'enjoy nature'. They're buildin' the road right now."
"They also say it's to 'save the land and the trees'," Lucy put in. "Causin' erosion through 'over cultivation'. That may be true with some—but not all. We've always rotated our crops."
Zoe took a moment to let this revelation sink in before saying, "But … don't they know they'll be displacing people from their homes? Your families have been here a long time, right?"
"Over a hundred years."
Another girl jumped in. Leaning forward in her chair, her cheeks flushed with indignation.
"Honey, the gov'ment don't care one straw 'bout us."
"And they got the newspapers in their pocket, too," said Maud. "They make us all out to be backward and miserable, cut off from the outside world. That way when they push us out it'll seem like they're doin' us a kindness."
Lucy peered up at the ceiling. "What did that one article say? "'No community government, no organized religion, little social organization'?"
"But that's not true!" Zoe exclaimed.
Lucy shrugged, her mouth turned down bitterly.
"Don't matter what's true when the government wants something. It's for the 'greater good' don't you know? They're already buyin' up land right out from under those who can prove ownership for six dollars an acre. Most they're just taking since a lot of us don't have an official hold on the land—it's just ours, we've been here so long you'd think we have a right."
"If they do come maybe you can find a way to live within the park; come to some kind of agreement?"
Maud, another girl, shook her head. "No. We've heard from the other communities. They won't let them work the land or cut any trees, it would be impossible to live here."
"'The gov'ment by the people and for the people', my foot," a girl on Zoe's left growled.
There was a somber pause then Maud jumped to her feet.
"Anyone for more punch?"
—
"We will now do the Eightsome Reel!"
While minister Evans gave a brief history of the eightsome reel Jamie went to find Zoe. He spotted her still with Lucy and her friends chatting away. He bounded over.
"Zoe, come wi' me!"
"What?"
"It's the eightsome reel, it's a traditional dance we do back in Scotland! Come on!" Zoe took one last gulp of her punch and Jamie grabbed her hand to lead her to the floor. "It's a little like the dances earlier, but we dance them in a round of eight people, each …" Jamie then proceeded to try and quickly explain it.
"I'll have it down after we go through it once," Zoe gave a confident toss of her hair.
The eightsome reel started very differently then the Virginia Reel. As the name suggested, they started of in groups of eight, holding hands in a circle. When the fiddle players struck up the first note everyone skipped sideways, creating a human wheel in motion. Then Jamie put his hand around her back and side-by-side they skipped in a circle, the ladies, who were positioned on the inside of the circle, stretched out their hands to the middle, clasping each other's hands. Then they switched directions so the men had a turn.
Next they paired off again. Zoe was facing Jamie who he was making hopping steps, one foot crossing in front of the other. He motioned for Zoe to do the same. After a few beats he reached out for her and grasped her hands.
"We're gang tae spin 'round noow!"
Zoe laughed, in slightly frightened delight as she felt the centripetal force threatening to send her flying out, but Jamie held her tight.
After a few turns Jamie yelled over the music for her to reach out for the man that she would be next to by the end of the spin.
She did as she was told and grasped a young man's hand that reached out for hers. He tugged her forward and skipped, passing her along to the next hand.
Men and women weaved around each other, grasping hands as they passed until they reached their original partners.
"I made it!" Zoe laughed when she was back in Jamie's arms.
They grasped hands and spun again.
"We're goin' back to the circle!"
Which is what they did in the next moment, except this time one of the eight, a woman, stepped into the circle, dancing the jig Zoe observed earlier, while the seven held hands and danced around her.
There were variations of the same moves, the weaving and spinning, but now within the circle of eight.
Soon Jamie was in the center dancing the jig. He put one hand on his hip and the other he raised up to arc over his head. His feet seemed to hardly touch the ground. Zoe's eyes dropped to his kilt and was mesmerized by the way the pleating fanned out then refolded, like an accordion, swinging merrily above his knees. She could see the garment's appeal now, aesthetically speaking.
After they did the whole set and moved on to the first repeat, Zoe had gotten a hang of the dance.
When the dance finally ended and they stopped Zoe still felt like she was spinning. She leaned her head against Jamie's solid chest and waited to regain equilibrium. She could hear his heart was still pounding hard.
"Ye all right, lass?" Jamie tilted his head to try and get a better look at her face.
Zoe nodded against him, her eyes closed. "Mm-hm. Just a wee bit dizzy."
Jamie chucked at her use of Scots.
"I'm fair puckled mesel'."
He took Zoe gently by the shoulders and held her away, to peer at her in the soft light.
Zoe looked up at the Highlander with a slow, lazy blink and smile. Her cheeks were flushed by more than dancing.
"Zoe Heriot, have ye been drinkin'?"
"Just something called applejack punch, I think."
"Aye, I had aboot two glasses … how many did ye have?"
Zoe squinted up at the ceiling as she ticked off her fingers: one, two, three, four, five …
"Zoe!"
"And now," came minister Evans' voice. "As we wind down the evening, our dear brother Charlie McCrimmon will share with us, once again, the story of how many of us came to be here. Charlie?"
As Charlie made his way onto the dais Jamie guided Zoe to a chair by the Doctor.
"Ye sure ye're all right?" Jamie asked.
"I feel fine," Zoe answered, slurring her words slightly.
"Aye, I'm sure ye do …" Jamie said ruefully.
"What's the matter?" The Doctor asked.
"She's sloshed."
"I am not!"
The Doctor shushed them. "We'll deal with this later—Zoe I'm disappointed at you."
"Ey, don' be too hard on her. It's easy tae drink tae much when it's sweet like tha' and ye nae used tae whiskey."
"She's not used to any spirits!" The Doctor whispered harshly. "She's never had a drop of strong drink in her life. Dr. Corwyn told me alcohol was forbidden on the Wheel. I hold you partly responsible."
"What did I do?"
"You should have been watching her."
"Och, fer heaven's sake! It's not like we're at a party full o' Daleks, she can take care of hersel'." Jamie then added with a wink to Zoe, "even in a party full of Daleks for tha' matter."
Zoe lifted her chin and gave a slow, exaggerated nod, her eyes half closed. "Quite right. Thank you, Jamie."
The Doctor tugged on Jamie's arm. "Fine, fine. Later, later—sit down, people are staring."
Jamie sighed and plopped down in a recently vacated chair on the Doctor's other side.
Charlie began his tale with the defeat at Culloden. The Doctor gave Jamie a quick side glance. The Highlander had his arms crossed and his jaw clenched—but was otherwise controlled. Then Charlie briefly explained how the lands went from being overseen by the clan chiefs to the chiefs becoming mere landlords—some did not even live on the land, some were not even Scottish. The ancient families became tenants. The desire to cash in on the wool trade caused chiefs to push people from their homeland to use that land for sheep.
Cottages were burned to prevent people coming back. In Skye there were instances where lonely elderly cotters were left in the open air to die after the homes were destroyed.
The Doctor put a hand on Jamie's shoulder in a gesture of sympathy and to keep him from leaping out of his chair. He could feel Jamie literally trembling with fury.
"And now rumor has it that the gov'ment wants to do the same thing to us, their very descendants! But, jist like our ancestors, we won't go without a fight."
A defiant cheer went up from the crowd.
"And now our honored guest, Mr. James McCrimmon, has kindly agreed to play the bagpipes for us." Charlie gestures to where Jamie was sitting. "Mr McCrimmon."
For a moment Jamie had the look of a deer in the headlights as all eyes were turned on him. His emotions were boiling over as he attempted to process all this new and distressing information.
Jamie just kept it together as he rose to his feet and made his way onto the dais. His legs felt like rubber and he moved like an automaton.
Charlie reverentially passed the bagpipes to Jamie, his old hands shaking.
"What will you be playing for us, lad?"
Jamie blinked and forced himself to think. His mind had gone blank. Then, with a flash, he remembered one of the first airs his father had taught him.
"'Cumha Ruairidh Mhoir'—'Rory's Lament'."
Memories flooded Jamie's brain as he tucked the bag under his arm, put the blowpipe to his lips and took the chanter between his fingers.
The tune began with one long note then skipped up and down notes, slowly, wistfully. Zoe winced at the sound at first, never having heard a bagpipe before. But as she listened, her ear grew accustomed to it; she even found the low drone that ran underneath the high notes rather hypnotic.
Jamie paced up and down the dais in slow, measured steps. He thought of Culloden, of Alexander and Laird MacLean. He thought of his people being beaten and dragged from their homes; cottages burning; a once proud Highlander lying broken in the grass as the ashes blew over him.
Zoe could hear the sorrow and yearning in every grace-noted skirl of the bagpipe. It was as if she somehow understood his heart better than before—like she was listening to his soul.
When Zoe saw the tears begin to roll down Jamie's cheeks her heart lurched painfully. She glanced over at the Doctor. His eyes were riveted on the Highlander, wide and gravely sympathetic.
The end of the song was startlingly abrupt.
Silence filled the barn and there was not a dry eye left.
Jamie turned to Charlie who had stepped back up into the dais to take the pipes. The old man could barely get out his words of thanks, tears choked his voice.
Jamie relinquished the pipes and then surprised the old man by planting a kiss on his wrinkled forehead.
"Bless ye, Charlie …"
Fresh tears sprang to Charlie's eyes. Jamie quickly stepped off the dais and headed for the door.
Zoe immediately stood and made a move to follow him but the Doctor put an arresting hand on her arm.
"Let him be."
Sober Zoe would have deferred to the Doctor's wisdom, and would have thought him quite right. But right now whiskey was running through her veins and all she could think about was Jamie's tear streaked face.
She shrugged off the Doctor's grip.
"Nonsense."
—
Fortunately for Zoe the moon was bright and she could find her way through the yard easily enough. She stood still and listened. Had Jamie gone back into the house or hid himself away somewhere on the property?
Zoe did not have to wonder long. She heard the faint sounds of muffled sobbing and when she followed them they led her to the woodpile. The woodpile was behind a large shed, screened from the house and the barn.
Jamie was leaning against the wall of the shed. His body was hunched over, jerking with stifled sobs.
At that moment Zoe's mind seemed to go blank. She ran forward and wrapped her arms around his middle. Her hands stretched upward to grip his back.
Jamie had let out of a small whoosh of air in surprise and from her impact.
"Z-Zoe …?"
Zoe did not say anything and continued to hold him. Jamie did not say anything more either but wrapped his arms tightly around her in return and buried his face in her shoulder. The tears returned, but now they were tears of gratitude mixed with those of grief.
A minute or so had elapsed before Jamie took a deep breath and released her.
"I maun look a-fright," He murmured sheepishly, plucking a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. He hastily mopped his wet cheeks. A stray tear escaped then from Zoe's eyes and Jamie dabbed that away, too
"I ken why I'm cryin'," Jamie said wryly. "Why are ye cryin'?"
Zoe sniffed and touched her nose with the back of her hand looking a little distressed. "I don't know. Because you're crying?"
"Och, lass," Jamie crooned sympathetically. "It's th' drink." He gently supplied, taking her face in his hands and wiping away one last tear with his thumb
Zoe automatically covered his hands with hers. "It can make you cry?"
Jamie chuckled dryly. "Whiskey can make ye do a lot o' things: cry, fight, laugh—" His eyes suddenly flicked down to Zoe's lips.
… Kiss.
Jamie swallowed hard.
Perhaps yee've had mair than ye thought yerself, lad.
It did not help that pear tree petals were drifting down like snow to settle becomingly on her hair and Virginia buttonweed covered the ground around their feet like a carpet of fallen stars shining in the moonlight.
Jamie quickly removed his hands and stepped back.
"Th-thank 'ee for comin' after me, lass."
His abrupt behavior earned him a quizzical look from Zoe who was blissfully unaware of how close she came to getting her first kiss stolen. "Of course. That's what friends do," she then added with a small self-deprecating smile, "or so I'm told."
"Yes," Jamie said gravely. "Tha's wha' friends do."
The moment was over.
"There you two are!" The Doctor exclaimed, suddenly coming around the corner of the shack. "They're asking for an encore, Jamie, if you think you can manage it."
"Aye, I'm fine now, thanks tae Zoe."
As they walked back together the Doctor peered at Jamie suspiciously. "Did you have more applejack? Your face is quite red."
"Haud your wheesht," Jamie hissed.
—
The dance came to a worthy finale for the occasion. Jamie played a rousing reel on the bagpipes and the other musicians followed his lead. There was whooping and hollering as the dancers seemed to fly just above the floor, galloping to the ever increasing speed of the reel.
When it was over an exhausted but enthusiastic cheer erupted along with applause. Jamie beamed and, following the other musicians' leads, bowed.
Tom stepped onto the dais and shook Jamie's hand. He then turned to Charlie and began to ask him about the bagpipes and how to play.
—
It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when the revellers finally made their ways home.
The Doctor got their only guest room while Jamie insisted on taking the parlor sofa. Zoe shared a bed with Lucy, who, with so many siblings was used to doubling up anyway. There were two beds in Lucy's room. Martha and ten-year old sister Sophie shared the other one.
Lucy rolled over to face Zoe who was still awake.
"Did you have fun tonight?"
"The most I've ever had …" Zoe whispered.
"I'm glad." Lucy was silent for a moment, then with a large yawn she said "Sorry I got on my soapbox earlier. Rather dampened the mood."
"No," Zoe said, patting Lucy's arm. "I'm glad you told me. But you should get some sleep now."
"Hm."
Lucy rolled back over and soon her breathing became deep and even.
It took Zoe a while to fall asleep herself. She stared at the ceiling and turned Scot's Hollow's troubles over and over in her head until she fell asleep.
—-
The morning sun seemed to pierce through Zoe's closed eyelids to burn her brain. She massaged her forehead and the front half of her skull. It was like she was wearing a headband made of steel and it was three sizes too small.
"Are you awake?" Asked a young voice.
"No …" Zoe groaned.
"Yes you are, silly! You answered me!"
Zoe opened one sleep-caked eye to peer at little Sophie.
"Ma sent me up with a glass of water and aspirin for you."
Zoe managed a smile.
"Thanks."
Zoe slowly sat up, her breath coming out in whistling puffs in reaction to the pounding pain. She took the tablets and water from Sophie's hands and greedily swallowed both. She had not realized how thirsty she was until she began to drink.
"I'm going to go back to sleep for awhile if that's alright?" Zoe lay gingerly back down.
"Ok." Like a little mother, the child patted her gently on the head. "Feel better."
—-
An hour later, at eight o'clock, Zoe woke to find the headache had dialed down to a manageable ache. She slowly got herself going.
When Zoe descended to the main floor she was glad there was no smell of cooking. She could not stomach food right now. She found the Doctor sitting with Violet on the sofa in the parlor. Jack Donaldson was in an armchair across from the sofa. They were talking to the Doctor in low tones, looking serious. It was probably about the land grabbing situation.
Zoe's eyes turned to the younger ones in the room:
Sophie was playing on the floor with Abby trying to coax the baby to crawl.
Abby was on her stomach, wiggling like a fish out of water, determined to get to the rag doll that was being kept just out of reach.
Where was Jamie?
Zoe heard Jamie's voice faintly along with children's voices outside. She moved to the front window and looked out.
Jamie was standing and talking with Andrew Donaldson, his back to the house, while a bunch of the neighbors' children ran around them. One boy, probably about four years old came up behind Jamie and with the precocious curiosity of that age, lifted up his kilt.
Jamie yelped in surprise and his hand came swiftly down behind. He whirled around, red faced, glancing about to see if anyone behind him besides the boy had seen.
In Jamie's time no one would have blinked at the sight. Even women in his time, did not wear much else but a shift, a pocket, a petticoat, and stockings underneath their dresses. But Jamie quickly learned about the future's conventions. When Jamie first came onto the Tardis Ben had fussed to the Doctor about the Scot's famous lack of undergarments. "I won't have him walking around commando in front of Polly! It ain't right!"
Jamie's shoulders sagged with relief when he saw no one. He turned back to the child and grinned. "Why ye wee scamp!" He made a grab for the boy who squealed with delight and took off. When Jamie caught him he whirled him around, paroxysms of joyous laughter poured out of the toddler.
—
Zoe stood frozen at the window, her photographic memory replaying what she had just seen. A shaft of sunlight had illuminated it briefly, but it was just enough to leave Zoe with little doubt ... There was nothing but Jamie underneath that kilt!
"Zoe, what'cha lookin' at?" Came Sophie's voice from the parlor.
Zoe jumped and cleared her throat. Then with swift, mincing strides she made her way over to Sophie and Abby.
Abby decided at that moment to give up on the rag doll and rolled onto her back to look up at Zoe.
Abby flapped her arms and a smile spread across her face, her large gray eyes being practically dwarfed by her rising chubby cheeks.
Zoe could not remember ever seeing a baby in real life, much less touched one. She had been sent to training as a computer at an early age and then straight to the Wheel—and of course there were no babies on the Wheel.
Having this little one smiling and making noises at her was a new experience. She felt a strange warm flutter in her chest and had a bizarre overwhelming urge to scoop up Abby and rub own face against her cheeks.
"Do you want to hold her?" Sophie asked.
"May I?"
"Sure."
Zoe reached down. Abby flailed in excited anticipation. Zoe paused, not sure how to pick her up. She put her hands underneath Abby's armpits, slowly sat her up then lifted her into her lap.
—
Jamie came breezing in to witness a domestic tableau. The Doctor, Violet, and Jack Donaldson were talking together, Sophie had a large book in her lap, and Zoe was in an armchair holding baby Abby in a sitting position on her knees, facing her. She was making quick clicking sounds with her tongue that Abby seemed to find fascinating.
Jamie walked over and draped his arm over the back of the armchair and leaned in to look at Abby. He reached down and brushed her cheek with his finger.
"'Ey wee one."
Zoe could feel her back prickle with awareness of him behind her. All she could think about was the kilt and the proximity of certain things. She shook her head. "You're being ridiculous Zoe. How different is it really? Underwear is just one more layer, and thin one at that, between … that and everything else. Not much difference, really.
... That meant that that day in the car that wool tartan had been the only thing separating her from ...
Zoe's cheeks burned but then her lips quirked up in a wry smile.
At last, Jamie had managed to scandalize her—but he would never know.
Never, ever, ever.
Zoe turned to glance back at Jamie. He saw the smile on her face and returned it in blissful ignorance. She quickly turned back to hide her blush against Abby's wispy red curls.
"A bonnie lassie indeed."
Zoe stiffened. "Hm?"
"The wee bairn, she's ae braw' one."
"Oh, yes, she is beautiful, if that's what you mean by 'braw'. You know, I've never held a baby before."
"Neiver?"
Zoe shook her head.
"Nae brothers or sisters?"
"I was the only product."
"Ey?"
"Well," the Doctor suddenly said from the sofa. "I think it is time we head back to the … college."
—
The Doctor, Jamie, and Zoe stood out in the front yard surrounded by the entire community coming to see them off. Jack Donaldson offered to drive them back to their car. The Doctor was insistent that he just drop them off where they met so they could finish their field study before going back to their own car, which was "parked just down the road." The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief when Jack agreed.
"Here Zoe," Jane Donaldson said, handing Zoe a pot with a deep blue iris growing in it.
"I divided my irises last fall and have been giving them away. I'd like you to have one."
Zoe took the clay flower pot from Jane's hands. "Thank you," she said, quite thrilled with the gift. She had been wanting to start her own little greenhouse on the Tardis like they had had on the Wheel. She could start with this.
The Doctor approached Violet and, taking her hand, he gallantly kissed it, then gave it a pat for emphasis.
"It was a pleasure, Miss Violet. Truly."
"Will you be around this way again, Professor?"
The Doctor smiled sadly and said "some sunny day, perhaps…" quoting a song that would come out of Britain eight years down the road.
Charlie approached Jamie with his pipes under the his arm. "Would you give us a parting tune before you go, boy?"
Jamie turned to the Doctor who gave a small nod.
"I'll play … somethin' of my own I've been workin' on."
"Like a true McCrimmon! Let's hear it now."
Jamie took the bag under his arm and then put the chanter to his lips.
The opening notes burst from the pipes and ascended to the hills. The skirls were softened as they echoed throughout the hollow. This was how it was meant to be heard. Out in the open air, carrying for miles.
The song seemed to have a calling quality to it. It was proud and contemplative. It ended on a single clear note that reverberated long after Jamie stopped playing. There was a reverential silence that followed as the crowd listened to it fade.
The Doctor clapped his hands together and rubbed them, startling everyone out of their reverie. "Well, on that note," the Doctor said, delighted at his own pun, "it's time for us to go."
—-
The Doctor walked around the control panel of the Tardis, lovingly running his fingers over all switches and dials.
"Ah, as the old song goes 'there's no place like home.'" He exclaimed.
Zoe joined the Doctor at the controls while Jamie went to his room.
"Speaking of homes, Doctor …" Zoe began in a low voice. "What will happen to them?"
The Doctor appeared not to hear her and continued flipping switches. The familiar sound of the Tardis powering up began.
"Doctor."
"Hm?"
"What will happen to them?"
"Who, Zoe?"
"The fact that you are feigning ignorance gives me cause to believe you know."
The Doctor looked over his shoulder to the doorway Jamie had disappeared through them gave a deep sigh.
"The more I talked to Miss Petrie and Mr. Donaldson, the more I remembered about this time in history. I considered it so inconsequential compared to all the worlds and grand civilizations I've seen that it was pushed to the very back of my mind."
Zoe leaned forward, the inner corners of her eyebrows scrunched up in urgent worry.
"And?"
The Doctor nodded his head at the potted plant still in the young woman's arms.
"In seven years or so there will be nothing left but those blue irises to mark that the Donaldson's ever lived there."
Zoe stifled a sharp gasp with her hand.
"Just like the Highland Clearences the government will pull down the houses to keep people from returning."
Zoe covered her face and emitted a low moan. "No …"
The Doctor put his arms around her and drew her into a hug. He stroked her hair soothingly. "I'm sorry, Zoe."
Zoe put her hands on the Doctor's chest and pushed away.
"We can't leave! We have to stop them!"
The Doctor firmly took hold of her upper arms and leaned in toward her to fix her with a stern look.
"No, Zoe! We can't."
Zoe searched his face, disbelief and confusion in her large brown eyes.
"Why not? We've helped so many others. We've saved other civilizations from Cybermen and coups …"
"We can't change the past! It is forbidden and may have unforeseen consequences that may be worse then the thing we tried to prevent. That area is supposed to become Shenandoah National Park, and it will be … as awful as it's birth is."
"But …" Zoe struggled to find words. She felt a prickling of moisture in her eyes. "Jamie …"
"Don't you dare tell Jamie. He would never forgive me for not telling him. If given the opportunity he would choose to stay and when the time came treat those government agents like redcoats. He would stir the people to fight back as if it were Culloden all over again. People would die."
Zoe's mouth opened to protest, then closed. She knew he was right.
The Doctor let go of her arms and slowly backed away to resume directing the Tardis. Zoe did not move but stared listlessly into space. When she felt the Tardis shift she looked up at the view screen to watch the image of Scot's Hollow slowly fade away.
Not able to hold her emotions down any longer she strode quickly toward the sleeping quarters. Unfortunately Jamie was just coming out of the doorway. When she saw him she broke into a jog, pressing the back of her hand to her trembling lips.
Jamie watched Zoe as she ran past him, his eyebrows raised in surprise then lowered in concern.
"Wha's the matter wi' her?" He asked the Doctor.
"Oh, she's just feeling a little overwrought; she got quite attached to the Donaldsons, after all."
Jamie nodded in understanding. "Aye, I ken how she feels." He then looked back down the corridor. "Maybe I should check on her."
"No!"
Jamie turned sharply at the Doctor's tone.
"No," the Doctor repeated in a quieter voice. "Let her be, you know she doesn't like being emotional in front of others."
Jamie would have agreed with this statement if not for the night before. His stomach fluttered at the recollection. Perhaps it was best to leave her be ...
"Jamie, I could use your help with something if you have a moment."
"Oh, aye."
Jamie moved to join the Doctor at the console.
—-
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed that. I went to Shenandoah National Park in fall of last year and knew nothing about the displacement. They ironically had a few small books on it in the gift shop. Though I still enjoyed the beauty of the place, it broke my heart and lost a bit of its luster. Scot's Hollow is fictional, but it's true that many of the homes in the real communities were pulled down and destroyed and the only vestige left are their flower gardens that come back every year. It is also true that many of the communities weren't as isolated or "backward" as people were led to believe. They had record players, magazines, small stores, school houses. I watched quite a few interviews on YouTube of the displaced with photos from the time. Most houses were small, pokey cabins but there was one that was a full, "proper", two story house. I based Violet Petrie on a photo of a real school teacher from one of those communities. She photographed teaching a class, looking very smart.
In real life some of the MacCrimmon clan actually emigrated to Canada after the Clearences—not VA.
Jamie's last pipe song is "MacCrimmon's Lament".