Chapter Two
The new day dawned bright and clear. Brighter than I would have willed it; for there were no curtains on the window and I could have used another hour of sleep. Clear was good, though. I was anxious enough about going where we had to go without the added threat of traveling through a late summer storm. The bed was very comfortable. And without Jamie in it-no doubt he'd been up and out with the street cleaners-the bed didn't cave in in the middle and I didn't roll into the cave-in, and I could stretch out between the clean, soft sheets. We'd paid dearly for the best room at the Salem Inn, and it had been worth it.
"I love you."
"Hmm?" I was making rounds at the hospital, and a patient-a man who'd been expressing an interest in offing Frank so that I could run away from Boston and into connubial bliss with him-was leaning over my shoulder and nuzzling the nape of my neck. I could smell the odor of the barn on his skin. Barn smells? When had he been released, and to where? The man was suffering from congenital heart failure and he was on intravenous meds 'round the clock!
"Ye look like you're deep in thought, mo nighean donn." I came awake with a start, rising and falling back down in to the depths of linen, effectively pinioned by my husband's muscular arm. "Of course, when ye asked me if the nurse had been by lately to take my temperature, I had the idea that ye might be dreamin.'"
"Yes, I, er.what exactly are you doing?" What exactly was I doing, for that matter, staying abed until all hours? I made to fling the covers away, but Jamie stilled my arm. "We have to get going! Kennedy was going to meet us, and early!"
"Aye, we do, he was, he did, but there's been a change in plans." Jamie took a tendril of my sleep-tousled hair between his fingers and he examined it. "Ye do have beautiful hair."
"Do you sometimes think that the two of us are a little hair-obsessed?" Jamie's nickname for me, mo nighean donn, was a reference to my wren-brown hair, and I often contemplated the variety of shades intermingled in his thick, wavy mane. "But for the grace of God, you and I would have been hairstylists."
"Not so big a leap, is there, between the hairstyling and farming." As he said it, he nipped at my neck, and I decided that if there was in fact a significant tie between the two careers, I couldn't see it and didn't care to pursue it. "I'm in the mood to run my fingers through your hair, Sassenach; your hair down-"
"What did you mean about a change in plans?" I plucked his hand away from my intimate depths and rolled over to face him. On a trip to the coastal city to trade barrels of whiskey for provisions that we couldn't otherwise acquire, we were supposed to be going right back to our home on Fraser's Ridge, back to Brianna and Jemmy and all the others who counted on us. They could do without Jamie's resourcefulness and my medical care in a pinch, but.we couldn't stay longer than planned. The people who depended on us were very accident-prone, and the thought of our son-in-law, Roger, without a doctor to patch up his frequent medical emergencies made me very nervous.
"It's the wee Kennedy," said Jamie. He pushed himself up against the headboard, all bare skin and muscles and curly, coppery-golden hair, and crossed his arms. "He's found a reason or two not to show us the spot."
"I see." I stood up and shifted my shift so that it hung properly. "I can't blame him for his reluctance to revisit the place-to risk it. He's made himself a satisfactory life here, and the thought of going near the spot.of hearing those stones, if indeed there are stones there.well, I'm disappointed, but I can't say I blame the man."
"Come now, Sassenach," said Jamie. "I said that Kennedy'd found a reason not to show us the spot. I didn't say that we wouldn't be able to find it." With that, he reached into the pocket of his jacket, hung on the bedpost, and brought out a folded paper. I scooted over to his side and he handed it to me. It was a map, executed in neat, black lines and embellished with curlicues and symbols. I smiled when I realized that the center of the compass rose was a peace sign.
"He drew you a map?"
"He drew us a map. A fine map, too, from the looks of it. The man's talent's wasted on the bottle-making; he should have been a surveyor."
"Indeed," I said, studying the tiny landscape that adorned the map. It had the look of an etching: delicate and detailed, realistic. "Yet, everyone needs bottles and window glass. This place is on our way home! I'm not an expert navigator, but Jamie, didn't we pass right through this spot on our way to Salem?"
"Aye, Sassenach, you're not even a fair navigator. A bonny wife and a splendid physician, but ye must leave the map-readin' to a man."
I didn't know whether I should be grateful for the compliment, or disgusted with his chauvinism. Meeting John Kennedy had reminded me that there was- would be-a time when women were seen as capable beyond childbearing. I chose to disregard his comments altogether and move on to things that mattered. "You can find this place without him?" I asked. When I looked into Jamie's face I started, for he was staring at me with an intensity that was frightening. And frankly, sexual.
"What is it, Jamie?"
"It's nothing of consequence, mo nighean donn," he said, softly, running his hand up my spine. It came to rest on the back of my neck, under my hair. The warmth from that hand seemed to spread right up the back of my head and own my back, thrilling me, comforting me. Whatever came of finding a time traveling "window" here in America, he was going to be my rock. He was going to see that nothing happened to me beyond what I wished would happen to me.
"I'm not going near that place," I said, leaning against him. "I'm not going anywhere without you."
"I'm verra glad to hear that." He pulled my head to him. "Verra glad," he repeated, and then he placed his lips against mine, and I forgot about men from the future.
The new day dawned bright and clear. Brighter than I would have willed it; for there were no curtains on the window and I could have used another hour of sleep. Clear was good, though. I was anxious enough about going where we had to go without the added threat of traveling through a late summer storm. The bed was very comfortable. And without Jamie in it-no doubt he'd been up and out with the street cleaners-the bed didn't cave in in the middle and I didn't roll into the cave-in, and I could stretch out between the clean, soft sheets. We'd paid dearly for the best room at the Salem Inn, and it had been worth it.
"I love you."
"Hmm?" I was making rounds at the hospital, and a patient-a man who'd been expressing an interest in offing Frank so that I could run away from Boston and into connubial bliss with him-was leaning over my shoulder and nuzzling the nape of my neck. I could smell the odor of the barn on his skin. Barn smells? When had he been released, and to where? The man was suffering from congenital heart failure and he was on intravenous meds 'round the clock!
"Ye look like you're deep in thought, mo nighean donn." I came awake with a start, rising and falling back down in to the depths of linen, effectively pinioned by my husband's muscular arm. "Of course, when ye asked me if the nurse had been by lately to take my temperature, I had the idea that ye might be dreamin.'"
"Yes, I, er.what exactly are you doing?" What exactly was I doing, for that matter, staying abed until all hours? I made to fling the covers away, but Jamie stilled my arm. "We have to get going! Kennedy was going to meet us, and early!"
"Aye, we do, he was, he did, but there's been a change in plans." Jamie took a tendril of my sleep-tousled hair between his fingers and he examined it. "Ye do have beautiful hair."
"Do you sometimes think that the two of us are a little hair-obsessed?" Jamie's nickname for me, mo nighean donn, was a reference to my wren-brown hair, and I often contemplated the variety of shades intermingled in his thick, wavy mane. "But for the grace of God, you and I would have been hairstylists."
"Not so big a leap, is there, between the hairstyling and farming." As he said it, he nipped at my neck, and I decided that if there was in fact a significant tie between the two careers, I couldn't see it and didn't care to pursue it. "I'm in the mood to run my fingers through your hair, Sassenach; your hair down-"
"What did you mean about a change in plans?" I plucked his hand away from my intimate depths and rolled over to face him. On a trip to the coastal city to trade barrels of whiskey for provisions that we couldn't otherwise acquire, we were supposed to be going right back to our home on Fraser's Ridge, back to Brianna and Jemmy and all the others who counted on us. They could do without Jamie's resourcefulness and my medical care in a pinch, but.we couldn't stay longer than planned. The people who depended on us were very accident-prone, and the thought of our son-in-law, Roger, without a doctor to patch up his frequent medical emergencies made me very nervous.
"It's the wee Kennedy," said Jamie. He pushed himself up against the headboard, all bare skin and muscles and curly, coppery-golden hair, and crossed his arms. "He's found a reason or two not to show us the spot."
"I see." I stood up and shifted my shift so that it hung properly. "I can't blame him for his reluctance to revisit the place-to risk it. He's made himself a satisfactory life here, and the thought of going near the spot.of hearing those stones, if indeed there are stones there.well, I'm disappointed, but I can't say I blame the man."
"Come now, Sassenach," said Jamie. "I said that Kennedy'd found a reason not to show us the spot. I didn't say that we wouldn't be able to find it." With that, he reached into the pocket of his jacket, hung on the bedpost, and brought out a folded paper. I scooted over to his side and he handed it to me. It was a map, executed in neat, black lines and embellished with curlicues and symbols. I smiled when I realized that the center of the compass rose was a peace sign.
"He drew you a map?"
"He drew us a map. A fine map, too, from the looks of it. The man's talent's wasted on the bottle-making; he should have been a surveyor."
"Indeed," I said, studying the tiny landscape that adorned the map. It had the look of an etching: delicate and detailed, realistic. "Yet, everyone needs bottles and window glass. This place is on our way home! I'm not an expert navigator, but Jamie, didn't we pass right through this spot on our way to Salem?"
"Aye, Sassenach, you're not even a fair navigator. A bonny wife and a splendid physician, but ye must leave the map-readin' to a man."
I didn't know whether I should be grateful for the compliment, or disgusted with his chauvinism. Meeting John Kennedy had reminded me that there was- would be-a time when women were seen as capable beyond childbearing. I chose to disregard his comments altogether and move on to things that mattered. "You can find this place without him?" I asked. When I looked into Jamie's face I started, for he was staring at me with an intensity that was frightening. And frankly, sexual.
"What is it, Jamie?"
"It's nothing of consequence, mo nighean donn," he said, softly, running his hand up my spine. It came to rest on the back of my neck, under my hair. The warmth from that hand seemed to spread right up the back of my head and own my back, thrilling me, comforting me. Whatever came of finding a time traveling "window" here in America, he was going to be my rock. He was going to see that nothing happened to me beyond what I wished would happen to me.
"I'm not going near that place," I said, leaning against him. "I'm not going anywhere without you."
"I'm verra glad to hear that." He pulled my head to him. "Verra glad," he repeated, and then he placed his lips against mine, and I forgot about men from the future.