Featured Gaelic and Pronunciations:
Bhon Toiseach (vohn toh-shehk) - From the Beginning
Tapadh leibh (tapah leev) - thank you (formal)
8 August, 2147
Glasgow, Scotland
CATRÌONA POV
"Bà bà mo leanabh beag,
Bidh thu mòr, ged tha thu beag.
Bà bà mo leanabh beag,
Chan urrainn mi gad thàladh…"
Maevis was constantly crying, almost, and the constant crying for six weeks was making it impossible to sleep in the house. I had tried feeding her, but she began to have trouble latching to my breast at the five week mark, so I had started pumping for her, but then that just became painful and miserable. "Is she still crying?" Tom asked me, pulling his earbuds out of his ears and scrunching up his face at the noise.
"I'm surprised ye cannae hear it through those things," I said back to him, glancing down at my left hand, where the golden wedding band was visible. We had had a small wedding ceremony about four weeks after Maevis had been born, which prompted another brief argument when Tom realised I wouldn't be changing my name to Randall, but he accepted defeat.
"Well, they are noise-cancelling," Tom answered me rather insensitively as he went into the kitchen. "Are you all packed for our trip to my parents'?"
"I've been tendin' te a colicky bairn, there's been no time," I replied as I cradled Maevis in my arms.
"That's all right. Why don't I watch her for a bit while you do that? And maybe take a shower, too," Tom told me, and I scoffed.
"Good luck wi' that," I said back to him. "Can ye do me a favour and check that the formula in the bottle isnae too hot?"
"Formula?" asked Tom, turning his attention to the bottle warming in the pot of water on the stove. "I thought you were exclusively breastfeeding."
"She doesnae seem te want te so I'll be makin' the switch te formula. It'll be easier both on her and on me as well, the pumps are too harsh on my breasts," I answered him.
"But isn't breastfeeding better? I mean, it's more natural, and certainly cheaper. Maybe you're just not pumping correctly," said Tom, still checking the temperature of the milk and bringing it over to me.
"I followed the instructions te the 'T' and it's just no' workin' fer me," I said. "Formula is fine, if anythin', it's enriched. And I'm findin' it hard te get proper nutrition anyway so this'll guarantee she gets everrathing and I dinnae have te break my back tryin' te enrich me own milk."
"My mother says that breast is best-"
"Tom, I dinnae care what yer mother has te say," I told him firmly, interrupting him. "All right? If ye want her exclusively breastfed, then grow some fucking tits and feed her yerself because ye dinnae understand the toll that it's takin' on me. Breast isnae best, fed is best." Tom let out a huff and forcibly put the bottle down on the table next to me, stalking back into the kitchen. "Thanks, ye put it a good foot away from me hand." He ignored me as I picked up the bottle and gave it to Maevis, who latched onto the bottle's nipple and immediately silenced, making sweet little gurgling noises as she suckled.
"Dr. Lindsay thinks you have postpartum depression," said Tom suddenly.
"Dr. Lindsay can kiss my arse. I'm perfectly fine," I told him.
"She says it's guaranteed, given the trauma you've gone through. She thinks it would benefit you to spend a bit of time in a rehabilitation facility," Tom replied, and I scoffed.
"Absolutely not," I said. "If I had postpartum depression, I'd be behavin' verra differently."
"And how would you know?"
"Because evidently, I had it before."
"And what were your symptoms?"
"Fought with my husband quite a bit, but everrathin' fixed itself, and it was just hard te function."
"…so like you are right now." I lifted my head and narrowed my eyes at him.
"I've not started a single argument between us, Tom. Yer the one initiatin' all of them. Questionin' my parenting skills, questioning my choices when I ken what's best fer both me and my child," I told him, and Tom let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.
"Cat, I'm sorry, it's just… I don't think you understand how difficult it is for me to just accept that you ran off to be with another man, had a whole life with him and only came back to me because he died," he told me rather calmly, and I couldn't help but lift my head to look at him. "But it's fine. It's all right because… because you're here now, and we have this beautiful daughter together who I love more than anything in the world… Even though she isn't mine. Even though it's his eyes that greet me whenever I go to pick her up."
"Tom…" I said a bit meekly, but he shook his head.
"I'll pack your things, just… take care of Maevis," he said, leaving the kitchen and going back into the bedroom.
10 August, 2147
Cuffley, Hertfordshire, England
TOM POV
Maevis fussed for most of the flight despite Catrìona giving her a dummy to suck on, but eventually, she'd cried herself to sleep by the time they'd landed, sleeping on the entire drive from London Stansted Airport to Tom's parents' home in Cuffley, just north of London. When they'd arrived, Tom noticed an unfamiliar car in the drive that wasn't his father's, so when he went inside to greet his mother, he couldn't help but ask about it. "Oh, where's the baby? I want to see my granddaughter!" exclaimed Gloria Randall, Tom's mother.
"Cat's getting her in the car. Where's Dad, Mum? Who's car is that out in the drive?" Tom asked her.
"Oh, that's Richard's! He and your father ran out to Master General's Supermarket in Waltham Cross, they'll be back soon. He wants to meet his niece," Gloria told him, and Tom's eyes widened.
"Mum!" he hissed quietly, and Gloria waved him off.
"Oh, Tommy, relax! It isn't like he killed your girlfriend, she's still alive!" Gloria told him dismissively, seeing Cat climb out of the car carrying the baby carrier on one arm and the baby bag on the other.
"She's my wife now… and it's a bit more than that, Mum-"
"Hello, Catherine! Is that my darling grandbaby?" Gloria exclaimed, interrupting her son.
"It's Catrìona, Mum. If you can't call her that, then just call her Cat," Tom said to his mother as she pushed past him to greet Cat.
"Oh, look at her sweet face! What's her name again? Mary, was it?" asked Gloria.
"Maevis," Cat told her a bit quietly as Gloria took the baby carrier from her.
"She's such a pretty little thing! Wake up, darling, and say hello to Grammy!" Gloria exclaimed, and Cat exchanged a look with Tom.
"She's only just gotten te sleep, I think it best if we let her rest," said Cat, but Gloria brushed her off.
"Nonsense, I want to see my grandbaby!" said Gloria, smiling down at little Maevis as she began to fuss after being woken up. "Oh, look at those sweet pretty blue eyes! You must get those from Granddad! It's a shame Tom and Richard didn't inherit their father's beautiful blue eyes, but it's wonderful to see that little Megan has!"
" Maevis ," Cat corrected her as Gloria carried the fussy infant back into the house.
"I'm sorry," Tom said as Cat let out a heavy yawn. "Why don't you go and have a lie down while I talk to her? You must be exhausted."
"Aye, and I dinnae have the benefit of noise-cancelling earbuds," she replied as Tom led her inside. He showed her to the guest room, which used to be his old bedroom, and Cat was only too happy to lie down for a nap while Tom carried in the luggage. He had to think of how the hell he was going to tell her that the man who killed her family, and very nearly her, had also come to visit. Damn his mother and her forcible personality! Once Cat was settled in, Tom returned to find his mother holding Maevis on her lap in the sitting room.
"She's such a beautiful baby, Tommy! You've done such good work! But it's such a shame she has her mother's hair. Such a shocking colour, red!" Gloria exclaimed, and Tom let out a heavy sigh.
"I think she's perfect the way she is, Mum," he said, glancing up at the door when he heard the sound of a car door outside.
"Oh, that'll be your father and Richard!" said Gloria excitedly, standing up. "They'll be so happy to meet little Margaret."
" Maevis , Mum!" Tom called after her as she made her way to the front door. "Maybe I should take her…"
"Joshua! They're here! Look at our beautiful grandbaby!" Gloria called out the front door to Tom's father as he climbed out of the car.
"How wonderful," said Joshua Randall, glancing up at Tom. "Hello, Tommy! You're looking rather tired. This little one keeping you up all night?"
"As newborns do," said Tom as Joshua made his way to Gloria and Maevis with a couple of bags in his hands.
"Hello, little one," said Joshua to Maevis, who stared at him wide-eyed. "You've got some pretty eyes."
"She has your eyes, Josh! It was all I ever could have hoped for when we had our boys!" Gloria said to him.
"A true shame, isn't it, Tom?" came Richard's voice, nearly identical to his own, as he closed the boot of the car and made his approach. The two Randall twins stood and locked eyes, Richard's seemingly taunting him and Tom's narrowed at his brother. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Tommy?"
"Eight years," Tom replied.
"And all for nothing, apparently. I hear your dear girlfriend survived our encounter at Culloden?" Richard said to Tom. "Where is she, anyway? She's my dear sister now, isn't she?"
"My wife , yes. We've been married for a couple of weeks now," Tom replied to him. "She's resting. She's often quite tired so I told her to have a kip."
"Not uncommon for new mothers," Gloria chimed in. "When I had the two of you, I was exhausted almost constantly! I would say that Catherine has it easy with just sweet little Maevis!" Tom turned to glance at her, a bit of an uneasy look in his eye at the mention of twins.
"It's a good thing the war is over now," said Joshua. "Our family can finally be whole again."
"Yes," said Richard, drawing Tom's attention back to him. "Whole." Richard stepped past Tom and approached his parents and Maevis. "Hello, little girl! I'm your Uncle Richard…"
"Cat wouldn't like you near her daughter," said Tom, not turning around to look at Richard.
"It's been so long since the war ended. She can find it in herself to forgive," Gloria said. "Let's go inside! Bring in the groceries, you two can hold little Mary while I start dinner!"
"Maevis!" Tom corrected them again, this time turning around. "Her name is Maevis , Mum."
"It's a terribly Scottish name. Why couldn't you pick something more English? Maybe then, people wouldn't be messing it up so much," Gloria said to him as she led her family back inside. "There's still time, she hasn't learned her name yet…"
CATRÌONA POV
After what must have been a couple of hours, I woke up and stretched on the bed like a cat, yawning as I did so. Even though it had only been a couple of hours, it felt good to get a bit of rest. I went to the mirror to fix my hair a little, as Tom had told me his mother could be a little judgemental, before making my way downstairs.
"…and I must say, I'm very lucky to be friends with Prince Alexander. He's very fond of me," I heard an oddly familiar voice say. At first, I thought it was Tom, but the voice had a bit more of a snooty air to it, one that sometimes came out in Tom's voice, but not as consistently as this one. Was it Tom's father, perhaps? I hadn't met him when we arrived.
"You must get to go to some very exotic places," I heard Gloria's voice. Did she not get to travel with her husband?
"Oh, just a few… And the women are certainly very charming, too," said the other voice followed by a girlish giggle, and my eyes widened. That wouldn't be Tom's father, there was no way, and since I'd already deduced that it wasn't Tom, then it could only be one other person… Now alarmed, I quietly rushed down the stairs to the sitting room, finding Tom seated beside his mother, Tom's father seated in his armchair, and the vile monster of a man whom I'd clashed with on more than one occasion standing with his back to me. Neither Gloria, Tom nor his father were holding Maevis, and she wasn't in her carrier, which only meant one thing…
"Oh, Catherine! How wonderful of you to join us," said Gloria, drawing attention to me, and Richard Randall turned to face me, my infant daughter cradled in his arms. My face steeled, and I could feel the heat of fury and anger building up inside of me at the sight of that murderous monster holding my child.
"Cat, I can explain," Tom said rather urgently, standing up.
"Oh, there's nothing to explain! The war is over, can't we all just get along?" Gloria chimed in, but I was directing all of my fury at Richard.
"You… Get your hands off my child , you murderous bastard!" I shouted angrily, lunging at him and grabbing Maevis from his arms, holding her tightly against my chest as she cried and fussed.
"How rude of you, dear sister," said Richard in a taunting tone. "I was just getting to know my niece."
"As he has a right to do," said Gloria, standing up to approach the pair of us. "The war has been over for such a long time, Catherine. Can't you learn to forgive Richard?"
"Mum, please," Tom began, trying to diffuse the situation, but I wasn't having any of this. There would be no talk of making peace between Richard Randall and I, not after all that he'd cost me.
"I dinnae have any nieces or nephews, nor will my parents ever have the privilege te meet any of their grandchildren," I said, calmly but venomously. "And ye can thank yer son fer that."
"If your parents were lost in the war, that isn't Richard's fault!" Gloria said to me rather stubbornly. "You can't blame him for everything!"
"Oh, as a matter of fact, I think ye'll find that yer son is directly responsible fer their deaths," I said bitterly.
"I give up. I tried," said Tom, stepping away from the cat fight that was about to break out.
"This monster killed my entire family when I was just fifteen years old," I said accusingly.
"Now, now, I think you'll find that I was found not guilty for that incident," said Richard, but I cut him off.
"I dinnae give two shits what the law says. I watched ye murder my family," I spat at him. "I watched as ye held a gun te my father's head and accused him of participatin' in the second rebellion when he wasnae involved!"
"Richard, what is she talking about?" Gloria said meekly, and I glanced briefly at her to see the horrified look on her face as she began to see her son in a different way.
"Nothing, Mum-" Richard began, but I cut him off, speaking much more calmly than before.
"I'll tell ye what I'm talkin' aboot," I said to her. "Yer son should be executed fer war crimes committed against the Scottish people, one of those crimes bein' the cold-blooded murder of a man, a woman, and four children under the age of fourteen - the youngest of those four bein' two years old." At this, Gloria gasped, her hand covering her mouth as she stared at her son wide-eyed and stepped away from him.
"Are you trying to make it your goal to ruin my life?" Richard asked me, and I scoffed.
"Ye mean like how ye ruined mine? I'd never stoop te that level. I'm only tellin' the truth,," I spat at him. I glanced at Tom, whose face was red with humiliation, before I grabbed the nappy bag by the door, pulled it open, and stormed outside of the Randall house. From my pocket, I pulled out my mobile phone, which I had just gotten used to using again, searched for a nearby hotel and began to make my way there. Maevis was still screaming her little head off, earning me some fierce stares from people who were sitting outside trying to enjoy some peace and quiet. Finally, we got to the hotel, and within an hour after checking into a room, the front desk called me to inform me that Tom was down there asking for me, so I told them to send him up. "How did ye ken where te look fer me?" I asked him when he arrived.
"Phone have trackers, I can see your location wherever you are," he told me, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Well, turn it off then! I dinnae want ye trackin' me!" I spat at him.
"No. You don't understand what you did, do you, Cat?" Tom asked me rather firmly.
"I beg yer pardon?" I demanded from him.
"My mother just kicked Richard out of the house and my parents are cutting him off," Tom told me a bit sharply.
"And rightly so! I'd do the same if I'd learned my son murdered children in cold blood!" I spat back at him. "He is a war criminal, Tom, and he got off scot-free because he's friends with the bloody prince. No justice whatsoever, and ye ken well I'm not the only one who had their family murdered by the bastard! If he loses a little bit of happiness, good , because he took away a verra large portion of mine!" Tom let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose while closing his eyes.
"It doesn't matter now. The damage is done and Richard is cut off from our parents," he replied. "This visit is ruined, Mum's not coming out of her room and Dad's furious. I think it best if we just go back to Scotland."
"I would agree," I said, glancing down at Maevis in my arms while she nursed from a bottle. All of this was just so hard… Had I stayed in the eighteenth century, things would've been so much easier. Granted, I probably would have died giving birth to Maevis, but at least she would be with her real father, or her brother and sister, and that was better than being here in this cold, modern world - and there would be no Randalls of any kind.
10 October, 2147
Glasgow, Scotland
I had agreed to go with Maidie to a local park so she could watch Rory play with other children. The two of us sat on a bench, Maevis fast asleep in her pram while Rory and the other children laughed and screamed and ran around chasing each other. It was a sweet sight to see, really, and as I watched the children, it was almost like I could see Archie and Brèagha among them. Had I stayed, they would be so big now… Archie would be nearly nine, and Brèagha nearly six. They were already developing their little personalities, and I would miss all of that… Have missed all of that. It was easy to forget that they had been dead for nearly four hundred years. I thought about doing research to see if I could learn anything about them and their lives, but whenever I found myself on Google ready to search, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. If I did learn anything, it would become real to me that they were gone forever, but if I kept myself in the dark, then I could pretend that they were just away. It hurt less to think of it like that.
"…and the hospital is looking for more doctors. Now that Scotland's really gotten back on its feet, many of the doctors we had wanted to explore other options in other countries, so St. Andrews' is really lacking doctors," said Maidie as I tuned back into what she was saying to me.
"Huh? Oh," I said.
"You were on track to becoming a doctor. Is it something you might want to continue?" Maidie asked me, knowing full well that I hadn't really been listening.
"Oh, I couldnae, not with Maevis," I told her. "I'd probably have te start my trainin' all over and it would just take up too much time…"
"But you always loved medicine," Maidie told me. "I haven't seen that special spark in your eye that you used to get when you were with a patient. Tom thinks it would be good for you, too."
"Tom thinks a lot of things would be good fer me," I said a bit bitterly, glancing at my sleeping daughter in her pram.
"In this instance, he might be right," Maidie replied.
"Mrs. Fraser!" I heard a voice call suddenly, and I glanced up in the direction of the voice, as if I had been the one the voice had been calling to, and saw a man in a suit shake hands with a woman as the pair of them sat down at the table to discuss some sort of business. I wasn't Mrs. Fraser anymore… Thankfully, I wasn't Mrs. Randall either - I was Catrìona Fowlis, a former captain in the Scottish rebel army, mother to Maevis Fowlis, granddaughter of the 7th Laird of Cìosamul and daughter to Archie Fowlis, who fought for the freedom of Scotland in the first rebellion. No, I wasn't Mrs. Fraser anymore, and wouldn't be ever again, but there certainly was someone I could be…
"Cat?" Maidie asked me, noticing that I had zoned out again.
"I… I think I'd like te try," I told her. "Te become a doctor, I mean. I'll study hard, find auld mentors I had in the rebellion… But I want te do it." I turned back to look at Maidie, who smiled at me.
"The medical world will be glad to have you back, Catrìona," she said to me with a soft smile.
6 July, 1752
Cìosamul Castle, Isle of Barra, Scotland
EAIRDSIDH RUADH POV
The paperwork that Eairdsidh Ruadh had to deal with was becoming exhausting. Prices were going up, that damned window tax still took a hefty chunk out of his finances despite bricking up several windows, and Captain Reynolds was hovering over him like a vulture waiting for him to die so he could feast on his remains. Well, Eairdsidh Ruadh had had his fair share of experiences with cultures before, and Captain Reynolds was just the latest one.
Reynolds had been furious when Cailean returned to Cìosamul and questioned the Laird extensively about how Cailean came to be on house arrest, but he never learned that the Laird had forged the document from Reynolds to get his grandson out of prison, nor would he. Eairdsidh Ruadh would chuckle to himself often at the thought of outsmarting Reynolds. Speaking of Reynolds, the English bastard barged into his study without knocking and stood before Eairdsidh Ruadh, who looked at him over his spectacles. "May I help ye, Captain?" Eairdsidh Ruadh asked him.
"Not in any way I desire, old man," said Reynolds. "There's a woman here, says she wants to see the Laird." Eairdsidh Ruadh raised one of his snowy reddish eyebrows.
"A woman?" he asked Reynolds.
"Aye, a whore, if I've ever seen one. She says she was once your lover," said Reynolds in a cocky tone, and the Laird scoffed.
"I've plenty of women who wish such a thing, but I have been faithful te my late wife since the day we met nearly fifty years ago," said the Laird, returning to the document he'd been pouring over.
"This one's got a boy with her," said Reynolds, and the Laird again raised his eyebrows.
"What name did this woman give ye?" said the Laird. If this woman had a boy with her, she was much too young to be one of the women from his youth. While he was faithful to his wife, there were women that had tried to steal kisses from him in the past, and some who were even daring enough to try to corner him in a closet. Eairdsidh Ruadh had been quite a handsome man in his youth, an appearance that Archie was quickly taking on the more he grew. Perhaps this woman was from his grandson's rather lewd past?
"Some Dutch variation of 'Anna'," said Reynolds, and Eairdsidh Ruadh let out a sigh and took his spectacles off, setting them on the desk.
"It isnae me she's lookin' fer, but my grandson," said Eairdsidh Ruadh, rubbing the beginnings of a headache out of his temples. "I'll handle it. Ronald!" Ronald heard his name being called and entered the Laird's study. "Fetch my grandson te the library, will ye? And have this… woman… that Captain Reynolds speaks of meet him there."
"Aye, my Laird," said Ronald, bowing his head as he turned and left the study. Good god, what has Cailean gotten himself into now?
CAILEAN POV
"Oh, tha's a lovely drawing, Brèagha," said Cailean as he accepted the gift from his niece. It was a painting - and not a bad one, actually - of eight figures. Two of the taller ones had red hair, while the other two tall ones had brown and blonde hair. The little figures matched the taller ones, and in the arms of one of the red-haired figures was an asymmetrical blob of some sort. "What's this, then?"
"Tha's Mama, tha's Daddy, this is Archie and this is me, and tha's you and tha's Auntie Saoirse, and tha's Cillian and Caoimhe!" Brèagha explained to him.
"Ah, so wha's this in yer Ma's arms, hen?" Cailean asked her, pointing to the asymmetrical blob.
"Tha's Mama's babies," Brèagha told him. "Archie says there's two of them, a boy and a girl."
"Is that so?" asked Cailean, trying to see the babies in the blob, but failing to do so. "I'll bet yer Ma loves them verra much, hen, same as she does you and yer brother." He looked at the figure that was supposed to be Catrìona and noticed that the figure had a frown on her face. "She doesnae look verra happy…"
"Archie thinks she's sad because she's not here with us," Brèagha told him. "I want te go show Auntie Saoirse!" She snatched the painting from Cailean and ran out of the nursery in search of Saoirse, who spent a lot of her time in the garden with Cillian. However, Cillian was there in the nursery today with Cailean, Caoimhe and Archie, who was sat in the corner by himself reading a book.
"Ye think yer Ma's sad, laddie?" Cailean said to his nephew, who glanced up at him.
"She wants te be here. She doesnae want te be… wherever she is now," Archie replied neutrally, returning his attention to his book.
"I'm sure she does. She loves ye both verra much," Cailean said to him, and then he let out a sigh. Archie, who had once been such a cheerful young lad, had grown significantly quieter in the days since his parents left. He hated being left behind and wanted nothing more than to be with his parents. Brèagha, on the other hand, seemed fine. She cried for her parents sometimes, but for the most part, she was a happy child. She adored Saoirse and always wanted to be with her aunt, and she and Caoimhe had grown as close as sisters. Caoimhe was an adventurous little thing, always stirring up trouble somewhere, and often dragging Brèagha and sometimes Cillian into her schemes as well. Cillian, on the other hand, was more quiet and preferred to cling to one of his parents, mostly Saoirse, of course. It was a habit that Cailean wanted to break his son of before he became Laird, as he was next in line after Cailean. "Oi, a' chlann , do ye want te hear a story?" Cailean asked them.
"Yeah! Story!" Caoimhe exclaimed, loving her father's stories. Cailean always told interesting stories, sometimes in song form, other times in poem form, but this time, he decided to tell a different story in a different form.
"Now, listen up, here's a story… aboot a little lad that lives in a blue world, and all day and all night and everrathin' he sees is just blue. Like him, inside and outside," Cailean began, reciting the lyrics to an old song he used to listen to as a child.
"Is he sad, Daddy?" Caoimhe asked him.
"Nope, hen, everrathin' is just blue," Cailean told her. "Blue, like his house with a blue little window, and a blue Corvette and everrathin' is-"
"Wha's a 'Corvette', Daddy?" Caoimhe asked, interrupting the story again.
"It's a verra, verra fancy… carriage," Cailean explained. "Now, everrathin' is blue fer him, he's blue, and everrathin' around him is blue-"
"Are the people blue, too?" Caoimhe asked again.
"Dinnae be silly, Caoimhe. People cannae be blue, lest they're dead," Archie interrupted her, and Caoimhe turned and stuck her tongue out at him.
"It's aboot the suspension of disbelief, Archie. Tha's what stories are aboot, aye?" Cailean asked him. "Now, do ye want te ken what he said aboot bein' blue?"
"What did he say, Daddy?" Caoimhe asked him eagerly, and Cailean chuckled lightly.
"He said… 'I'm blue… Da ba dee… Da ba di'," said Cailean, and he laughed when Caoimhe's face scrunched up in confusion.
"Tha's it?" she asked him.
"Tha's it!" Cailean replied, glancing up when he heard a knock at the nursery door and watched as it opened and Ronald's head popped in. "Ronald! Would ye like te hear a story aboot a blue man?"
"It's no' a verra interestin' one," said Caoimhe with disappointment.
"No' quite," Ronald replied. "Actually, yer grandsire wants ye te come te the library. Somethin' aboot a lass wantin' te see ye."
"A lass? Does Saoirse ken?" Cailean asked him, but Ronald shook his head. "Good. Keep it that way." Cailean stood up and approached Ronald at the door. "Archie, yer in charge, dinnae let Caoimhe terrorise Cillian again." Archie didn't answer him as Cailean followed Ronald out of the nursery and up to the library. "So… Anythin' I should ken before goin' in there?"
"She's Dutch, I ken that much," Ronald replied, and Cailean, for a moment, felt like his heart might stop.
"Dutch?" he muttered, his eyes wide as he realised who might be paying him a visit. "Right… Thanks, Ronald… I'll take it from here." Ronald took his leave and Cailean took a moment to compose himself before going into the library. Standing near the window, her back to him and her dark, ebony curls flowing down her back, was the woman in question. When she heard the door close, she turned, her honey golden eyes, framed by the beauty of her olive-toned tawny skin meeting Cailean's silvery ones. Her breasts, still as large as he remembered - maybe a bit larger now, actually - caught his attention, but he forced himself to look away out of respect for Saoirse. "Annika?"
"Cailean," she said to him, her Dutch accent catching his ears. "It has been some time."
"Aye… So it has," said Cailean, his eyes wide with both shock and wonder. "What… What are ye doin' here?"
"Did you not promise me I could be Lady?" Annika asked him in a teasing tone, and Cailean scoffed lightly.
"Aye, well… I'm afraid tha' ship has sailed, lass. I'm marrit now, te a fine and verra bonny woman… One who doesnae lead me on with false pretences of love and actually does love me," Cailean told her, and it was Annika's turn to scoff.
"There were no 'false pretences'. I make it clear I did not love you," she told him a bit sharply, and Cailean shook his head.
"Aye, tha' ye sure as hell did," he replied. "Which brings me back te my original question… What are ye doin' here?"
"I am in trouble," she told him. "There is man who want to hurt me back in Amsterdam. I have come to ask you to help me."
"And why should I help ye? Why me , specifically? Do ye no' have other lovers that were pulled into yer trap?" Cailean asked her a bit brashly, but his barbs just rolled right off of her.
"Oh, there are other fools," she told him sharply. "But none of them father my son." His heart dropped into her stomach. Her son ?
"Yer… Yer son…" he said meekly. "What…"
"Boy!" Annika called, and the dark-haired head of a young boy suddenly popped up from behind one of the settees. "Come, Boy." The lad meekly crawled out from behind the settee and ran to Annika, clinging to her skirts, which she yanked from his hands. "This is your son."
"That… Tha's impossible… How…" Cailean said, completely lost for words as he looked at the frightened young lad. He had olive-toned skin, but he wasn't nearly as dark as Annika, and he had brown hair the same colour as Cailean's. His eyes were Annika's, that lovely honey golden colour, but his face resembled not just Cailean's, but… but Calum's as well. Cailean's twin brother, Calum.
"He was born on a rainy day in May, 1747 - the fifteenth. You leave in August," Annika told him. August… May… May was nine months after August.
"What… What's his name…" Cailean asked meekly, still looking down at the young lad.
"I just call him 'Boy'," said Annika, and something about that seemed to make something in Cailean snap. He turned his attention back to her, narrowing his eyes.
"'Boy'? Ye called him 'Boy'? Ye didnae even have the decency te give him a real name?" he demanded from her. "He's five years auld, Annika. How do ye expect a lad with 'Boy' fer a name te make it in this world?"
"He is son of a whore. He will grow to become sailor, or criminal," Annika told him, and Cailean scoffed.
"What sort of mother are ye?" he demanded of her. "The most selfish, conceited bitch I've ever seen… Ye never cared aboot anyone but yerself, and ye never will, will ye?"
"That is right. This is right opinion to have of me," Annika said to him. "I am glad you see sense now."
"Aye, I see sense indeed," Cailean said to her sharply, looking back at the lad. "Ye can stay fer a time… Only fer him. As fer this lad, I'll be takin' him te the nursery te get him some clean claithes and a bath." He knelt down in front of the lad, who cowered behind his mother. "Come along, laddie. Do ye want somethin' te eat? Ye look starved, poor wee thing…" The lad was certainly skinnier than his other two children, who were the same age, only a few months younger than this meek young lad.
"He does not speak English," said Annika, and then firmly to the lad in Dutch, she said, " Ga met hem mee. Nu! " Rather hesitantly, the young lad took Cailean's outstretched hand, following Cailean to the door of the library.
"As fer you, Annika, I'll send in one of the servants te take ye te a room," Cailean told her, glancing back at her. "I ken I promised te take care of ye, and though I greatly despise ye, I'll still keep my word and protect ye."
"You are too good of a man," Annika told him. "Too good for a whore like me."
"Aye, I ken that well," Cailean replied, leading the young lad out of the library. He'd asked Ronald to fetch his grandfather and send in a few of the maids, who were all too happy to fawn over the young lad, who was terrified, but because his mother said so, allowed them to clean him up.
"Oh, ye puir wee thing, yer so skinny… We'll get ye somethin' nice te eat, willnae we?" said one of the maids.
"He doesnae speak English, Maudie," Cailean told her as the Laird approached him from behind.
"Sorcha says yer Dutch lass is gone," the Laird told him, and Cailean scoffed lightly.
"I cannae say I'm the least bit surprised," Cailean replied. "Selfish bitch of a woman… Ye ken, she called him 'Boy'? She didnae even give him a real name. How has this lad survived with her fer five years? I'm surprised she didnae kill him when she had the chance."
"It's a good thing she didnae. He can stay here, of course," said the Laird, eyeing the lad curiously. "He's yers, isnae he?"
"Aye, so she says," Cailean replied. "He… He looks like my brother. Like Calum… I suppose there isnae any other man that could have sired him."
"He's a bastard, ye ken. He cannae be Laird," the Laird told him.
"Aye, Grandsire, I ken. It'll be Cillian, fer sure. I dinnae ken if this lad will ever have the strength or intelligence te be Laird anyway, not with how Annika treated him," Cailean replied. "Mrs. Ruysch, her husband's Dutch, aye? A sailor who came here, met her and marrit her?"
"Aye, so he is. Does the lad no' speak English?" the Laird asked him, and Cailean shook his head. "I dinnae ken if he's on the isle, but I believe his children speak Dutch. Ruben and Sofie, I believe their names are."
"How auld are they?" Cailean asked his grandsire.
"Teenagers, I believe, or a bit younger," Eairdsidh Ruadh replied. "I'll have some food sent up fer the lad as well."
" Tapadh leibh , a Sheanair ," Cailean said to his grandfather as he left, leaving Cailean to stay behind and watch the young lad - his son - being bathed. Detecting a presence behind him, Cailean turned and found Archie poking his head into the room, eyeing the young lad curiously. "Come te meet yer wee cousin, a ghille ?" Cailean asked him, and Archie looked up at him.
"He's yer son?" Archie asked him, and Cailean nodded. "But… not Auntie Saoirse's…"
"No, laddie… It was a woman I kent before I met Auntie Saoirse," Cailean told him, unsure of how to explain to Archie exactly how this young lad came to be there at Cìosamul. Archie was still a child, but he was so much more mature than the other children. He hardly had a chance to be a child, with his earliest memories being of the uprising, and now, he had the responsibility of keeping an eye on his younger sister, which he'd promised his parents he would do.
"So he's a bastard," said Archie, surprising Cailean a little.
"Aye, but yer not te laud that over him," Cailean told him. "I thought ye were keepin' an eye on yer cousins?"
"Auntie put them down fer a nap," Archie replied. Shit. What on earth was Cailean going to tell Saoirse?
Saoirse was actually very understanding about the lad, and angry along with Cailean that Annika just left him. "He's left with people he doesna know by a mother that doesna care for him… And she really didna even give him a name?" she asked him.
"Aye… We'll have te give him one," Cailean told her. "I was thinkin'… Calum. After my brother. He really does look like him."
"I think tha's very sweet," Saoirse said, approaching the young lad as he sat on the floor. "Hello. My name is Saoirse." He just stared at her blankly, not understanding what she was even saying.
"He doesnae speak English," Cailean told her.
"He'll certainly have te learn that here, won't he?" said Saoirse, sitting beside him and offering him her hand. He stared down at it, then meekly placed his little olive hand into hers. She brought it to her lips and kissed it, showing him that she cared about him, then wrapped one arm around his little body and pulled him nearer to her, hugging him close. He buried his little face in her dress and began to cry. "Oh, shh, shh… Sweet one, dinna cry…" Cailean couldn't help but be touched at the warm sight of Saoirse so willing to accept a child that wasn't even hers into her heart. She was such a loving woman, and a very devoted mother. In the days following little Calum's arrival to Cìosamul Castle, Saoirse tried to learn Dutch, asking young Sofie Ruysch to teach her phrases as she communicated with young Calum and translated between him and the adults. The Laird even hired her to stay at the castle full time to teach him English, and also instruct Saoirse in Dutch.
Once Caoimhe learned that she had a brother who spoke Dutch, Caoimhe, too, wanted to learn Dutch so she could talk to him, and she was a natural with languages. By the time Caoimhe was eight years old in 1755, she was fluent in not only Gaelic, Irish and English, but in French as well, and nearly fluent in Dutch. She grew closer and closer to Calum, who learned to trust her as time went on. It was almost like young Calum fit in well with Cailean - even had the very soul of Calum inside of him.
7 June, 2149
Edinburgh, Scotland
CATRÌONA POV
"And there ye are, Doctor Fowlis," said my mentor, Doctor MacGillivray, handing me my diploma and helping me to slip into my white coat. He had managed to speak on my behalf when I applied to complete my medical training, allowing me to take an exam and if I did well, I could continue where I had left off. I spent two months studying, practicing, going over videos on YouTube of different basic surgical procedures that I had done on the battlefield, and managed to pass the exam, both written and practical, with flying colours. I finished my training and would be starting my residency as a trauma surgeon at St. Andrews' Hospital in Glasgow, but it was shortened significantly due to my experience during the rebellion.
Afterwards, we had a celebration back at our flat in Glasgow with Maidie, Don, Tom's parents, and a few other friends I had made in medical school. "What a wonderful thing to be a doctor," Gloria was saying. "But will you have time to be a mother to that sweet little girl?" Maevis, now almost two, was sitting on my hip as I held her, playing with the necklace that I wore. Save for her blue eyes, Maevis looked exactly as I did at that age, but also different, with a touch of Jamie to make her her own unique person. I recalled once seeing a portrait of Jamie and his older brother, Willie, at Lallybroch, painted by his mother. Jamie had to have been two or three at the time, and Willie maybe seven. From certain angles, I could see exactly how Maevis was Jamie's daughter.
"I've done a perfectly fine job the last two years, I think I'll be fine," I said to Gloria, brushing off the slight.
"What do ye want te do after yer residency?" asked one of the other students I had studied with. "Will ye stay in Glasgow?"
"I dinnae ken," I replied. "I suppose it's best. Trauma surgeons are needed in cities."
"And my job is here. I'd like to not have to travel far," Tom chimed in with a chuckle, but I wasn't really all that amused.
"Here, why dinnae ye take her? I want te get myself a drink," I said, handing Maevis to Tom, who was only too glad to take her. I made my way over to a bowl of punch that Maidie had made, pouring myself a cup and stepping out into the corridor for a moment of peace and quiet. As I leaned against the wall, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. So much noise… The music Tom had chosen was loud and obnoxious, and though I had gotten very used to all this mechanical and digital noise, I still didn't enjoy it. A throat clearing suddenly interrupted my thoughts and I opened my eyes to see a blonde-haired lass of around twenty-five or so staring at me, an awkward smile on her face. "Can I help ye?"
"Yes, is this the Randall residence?" asked the woman in an English accent.
"Aye," I said. "Who are ye?"
"Oh, I'm a… friend of Tom's," she told me, and I raised my eyebrow curiously.
"A friend, are ye?" I asked her, and then I went back into the flat. "Tom?" Tom heard me call him and looked over at me, his eyes widening when he saw the lass behind me. "There's a 'friend' here fer ye." The lass waved at him, and the conversation in the flat suddenly dulled down as they saw the woman behind me.
"Gemma! You… weren't supposed to… come here…" Tom said awkwardly. "Er… Catrìona, can we talk a moment?" He handed Maevis to his mother, then urged me to follow him into the bedroom, closing the door behind us.
"Who's that, then?" I asked him.
"Cat, before you get mad at me, I want you to understand something," Tom told me. "You have been very cold to me since you came back, and in the few times we have had sex, you wouldn't even look at me-"
"Oh, so she is some whore yer sleepin' with?" I demanded of him, and Tom scoffed.
"Oh, now you're jealous? Now you care about me?" Tom demanded of me. "Cat, you have no idea how much it hurt me when you told me that you didn't love me anymore. I gave up everything to be with you again, but you couldn't forget whoever the hell it was you were with before. You replace me in bed with him, you can't even meet my eye because of him-"
"Ah, so we're blamin' me , then. All right, j didnae ken I and the power te make ye stick yer cock in another woman, but sure. It's my fault," I told him sarcastically. "Ye ken, instead of humiliatin' me in front of friends and family, ye could have talked te me first. I'd have been perfectly fine with it."
"Oh, you would have? Of course you would, because you don't love me anymore, right?" It was my turn to scoff.
"I tried. I married ye, I tried te be yer wife, I even let ye raise my daughter-"
"Your daughter, indeed. You wouldn't even let me name her, let alone give her my last name. She could have gotten a lot of respect as a Randall."
"No' in these parts. Not nearly as much as she'll get fer bein' a Fowlis," I told him sharply.
"You know what? I'm finished. I'm done trying with you," Tom told me. "I loved you, Cat. I really did, but I fell out of love with you when you couldn't even give me an ounce of warmth-"
"I told you that I didnae love ye anymore! On day one! I told ye that I didnae love ye and that ye didnae have te stick around! You chose te. You gettin' hurt is your fault, not mine! Ye had a choice, and ye chose wrong, as yer findin' out!" I spat at him, interrupting him.
"Couldn't you have at least tried ?" he asked me.
"I did, and I just couldnae do it. I told ye I couldnae do it," I told him.
"It's been two years, Catrìona. Why haven't you gotten over that bastard yet? The one you just went off and fucked after leaving me!" Tom demanded from me.
"Because 'that bastard' was the love of my life, damn it! And it was a hell of a lot more than 'fucking', ye selfish conceited bastard," I spat back at him. "It doesnae matter how long it's been… The time it would take me te get over him doesnae exist." I couldn't look at him any longer, so I turned away from him, crossing my arms against my chest. "I did love ye once, Tom… but not anymore. I made that verra clear. I never led ye te believe otherwise, and if ye did, then tha's on you, not me. If ye want te go, I'll not stand in yer way. I never would have."
"I wanted us to be happy… I just wanted things to go back to the way they were before," Tom told me in a much calmer tone, but I shook my head.
"Things will never be the way they were before… I've changed, Tom. I've seen and done things that have changed who I am… I am not that weak, easily manipulated lass ye once thought I was." I turned around and faced him, this time with a firmer look on my face. "Ye took advantage of me when I was vulnerable. I was alone and hurt, and ye saw that and saw it as a chance te control me."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Tom demanded of me.
"Cailean and Maidie tried te tell me, but I didnae want te listen. Ye always picked the worst time te make changes te our relationship together. After Bloody Bush, when I was the only one who survived the bombin' of the hospital, ye suggested we start datin', and when I lost my brother after Berwick, ye proposed te me. After I'd just given birth te the child that I created with the man I loved - my soulmate - ye convinced me te marry ye. Well, I'm done with ye controllin' me. Ye hear me? I am done with it. I want ye te go," I told him calmly, and I watched as his face changed.
"Well, I'm sorry if you feel that my love for you was 'controlling' and 'manipulative'," he told me, a very hurt expression on his face. "What about Maevis, then? I may not be her birth father, but I am her father. I am the father on her birth certificate, I have rights, and she loves me."
"Aye, she does. I'll not keep ye from her," I told him. "But I want te move… I dinnae want te stay here in Glasgow. Ye can have the flat."
"And where are you going to move to?" he demanded from me. "You really think I'm going to let you take my daughter away from me?"
"She's not yer daughter," I told him calmly, but firmly. "And I want te go back home, te Barra."
"To your childhood home? The one that's only ashes and burnt stone?"
"I'll clean it up."
"And where will you stay in the meantime?"
"I'll figure it out." Tom couldn't help but scoff.
"You think any judge will grant custody to a mother who wants to live in a pile of rubble?" he asked me.
"No, but they'll grant custody te a doctor, especially when her father is a secret agent, at risk of dyin' at any time, and cheated on that child's mother," I told him, and his eyes widened.
"How the hell do you know what I do?" he demanded from me. "That's highly classified."
"I have friends in high places," I told him. "Look, Tom… I'm sorry I hurt ye. Really, I am. I never wanted te hurt ye, tha's why I told ye right away that I didnae love ye anymore and gave ye the option te leave… I let ye stay around because I didnae want te hurt ye more, but I did anyway, just as ye've hurt me."
"I hurt you?" Tom asked me.
"Dinnae make me explain it again," I told him. "I think until I move myself te Barra, ye should go and stay with this… Gemma."
"You're making a mistake," Tom told me, but I shook my head.
"No, but I did make one. My mistake was lettin' ye back into my life," I said to him, and then I opened the bedroom door, gesturing for him to leave. "Goodbye, Tom." Tom stared at me open-mouthed for a moment, then glanced up at the audience we'd collected. Slowly, he made a walk of shame from the bedroom to the front door, where Gemma still stood rather awkwardly, and then he was gone.
8 July, 2149
Castlebay, Isle of Barra, Scotland
It was the first time I had set foot on Barra in the twenty-first century since my parents were killed here in 2131 - eighteen years ago. I had left this isle when I was fifteen, still just a young lass, and returned to it an aged and experienced adult at the age of thirty-three. Maidie and Don had agreed to move with me as part of my agreement with Tom, but they wouldn't be staying. They rented a temporary residence and would eventually be returning to Glasgow, where they had established themselves when I first came back. While Maidie and Don, who were also watching Maevis and Rory, set up the rental house, I made my way to the ruins of my old home on that misty morning. It looked exactly the same as it had when I had last seen it burning, except the fires had gone out and the stone was cold and lifeless. I made my way to the front door, passing the spot where I had witnessed the death of my family.
"I've nothin' te confess! I'm not in the bleeding rebellion!"
BANG. Uilleam fell lifeless to the ground, a puddle of the lifeblood that was still warm forming where the bullet had passed through his little skull. My mother screamed in anguish for the loss of one of her beloved sons.
"Please! Please! Take me instead! Just shoot me and leave my family alone! They've done nothing! It's all me!"
"Kill them all."
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, a tear forming at my eye and rolling down my cheek. I wiped it away, then bent down to touch the ground where their lifeless bodies once laid. Flowers had grown where their lifeblood had fertilised the earth, nourished by the lives my family had once lived. They were machair wildflowers, small little things with white petals, some of them yellow, and interspersed throughout them were purple Scottish thistles. I smiled warmly - the English couldn't take that away, at least.
Inside, the wooden stairs had collapsed, as had the ceiling, so I stepped over the wooden beams and looked around to see what could be salvaged. Da's armchair had been burnt to a crisp and was scarcely identifiable. The couch appeared ripped to shreds, and picture frames on the wall had gone crashing down onto the floor. I picked up one - the picture inside had burned, but a small part of it was still visible. The faces of my grandparents, Freyja and Iain, smiled back at me, a small portion of the Eiffel Tower behind them.
"How did they meet?"
"Well, some years before I was born and even yer Uncle Anndra, Granddad was a fisherman who made his money sailin' up and down the coast and around the islands catchin' fish and lobsters and crabs and sellin' them te the port cities. He said te me that he was on Orkney aboot te head back out te sea when suddenly, he heard a strange sound. When he followed it, he found yer Grandmam, dressed in verra strange claithes. She didnae speak a word of English, or even Gaelic, but it was love at first sight fer them both…"
I smiled, gently touching Freyja's face. It was nearly as young as it had been when I said goodbye to her at the stones on Hy-Brasil - she'd made it, and she had her happy ending. I picked up another photograph, one of my father, myself, Cailean and Calum on the docks holding lobsters with banded claws. This one had the edges burned, but the majority of the photograph had been spared. I picked my head up, surveying the damage inside of the home - the home that had once been mine as a child, and the same home that I had restarted my family in. Well, I would start my life over again inside of this home for the third time. "Mam, Da… Calum, Alasdair, Uilleam and Iain… I feel ye here with me. I hope ye'll stick around… We've got a lot of work ahead of us. Bhon toiseach , aye?"
