12
Loss
"I got one! I got one!" Neal cried excitedly, reeling in a large bass from the lake to wave it triumphantly in Rab and Malcolm's faces. "Look, it's bigger than either of yours!"
"By what, this much?" Rab laughed, and held up two fingers with a tiny bit of space between them.
"Don't count yer chickens afore they hatch, laddie," Malcolm declared, casting his line out again. "The day is no' over yet. But ye did well wi' the one ye got."
Neal was inclined to prance about a little more until Belle reminded him, "Dinna boast too much, Neal. For pride goeth before a fall."
That wiped the smirk off the boy's face and he quit bragging and put his fish in a bucket of water with the others they had caught, keeping them cool till they were finished fishing.
Ailsa and Belle each caught a fish, though they weren't as big as Neal's. The girls laughed and splashed each other and then they turned and splashed Neal and Rab.
"Wretched lassies!" Rab yelped.
Neal did too and cried, "Ahh! That's cold!" Then he scooped up some water and splashed them back.
Belle and Ailsa shrieked and giggled.
But by mistake Neal's splashing also hit Malcolm.
The laird's eyes widened. "Neal Carlyle! Did ye just splash . . .me?"
Neal's eyes suddenly grew wide in alarm. "Papa, I-I . . .didn't mean to." He was sure now his father was furious with him.
He waited for the roar of rage, his father's hand to slap him.
Instead what he heard next was Malcolm . . . laughing.
The older man wiped droplets of water from his face, giggling, then he mock-growled, "Now ye're in for it, laddie!" Then he ran into the lake and jumped up and down, creating a terrific wave that swamped Neal and wet his plaid thoroughly.
Ailsa and Rab began giggling like loons. Both of them recalled how Malcolm had been when they were children—not cross and irritable but playful as a seal and full of mischief.
Neal, who had never seen this side of his father, gaped like a half-wit when he realized Malcolm was actually playing with him. "Papa!"
Malcolm smirked. "Next time behave!" he wagged a playful finger at his son. "Or else I'll dunk ye, brat!"
"Neal, behave?" Rab scoffed. "Papa, that's like asking a cat not to chase mice!"
"Rab!" Neal scowled.
"Aye, and 'tis the pot calling the kettle black, Rabbie!" Ailsa reported gleefully.
"You be quiet, Mistress Impudence," Rab ordered. "Because ye were in just as much trouble as I was!"
"The two of ye were a pair o' imps!" Malcolm chuckled.
Belle was pleased to see Neal and his father laughing and joking as opposed to the boy being terrified of his father as he had been lately and she enjoyed spending time with all of them, She and Ailsa were becoming as close as sisters. It did make her miss her family a bit though.
She had been enjoying their outing immensely, even though she had to sit down to fish. The cast was kept dry by several yards of tanned seal skin, which shed water like a duck's feathers, so she wasn't worried about it getting wet.
"It is wonderful to see them laughing again, Rab," Belle whispered to her husband. "Neal needed this so much."
"Aye, he did. Actually, we all did," he murmured. "Ye see, I had forgotten what my papa used to be like. Only now . . .I remember. This is how he used to be~when Jamie and I were wee lads. And Ailsa and Aidan too."
"Being in retreat with Father Bryce has served him well. I was a bit worried when you came home and told me he'd gone into one of his rages and the two of you managed to talk some sense into him...where is the Father by the way?"
"I believe he's gone out walking with Moira, tending to a few of the parishioners that couldna make the church services."
Neal giggled and said, "Now we scared away all o' the fish!"
"No, laddie. They'll be back. And this time I'll catch the big one!" Malcolm boasted, his eyes twinkling.
Neal shook his head. "Nay, I will!"
"Ye will no'!" his father argued.
"Ye wanna make a deal?"
Malcolm's eyebrow rose. "For what?"
"If I catch the biggest fish…ye let me skip lessons tomorrow and go play wi' Peter an' Winter." Neal bargained. Peter was the stablemaster's son, and near to Neal in age. They liked to go riding and exploring together.
Malcolm considered. Then he nodded. "As ye wish, laddie. Deal struck!" he clasped his son's hand to seal the agreement.
Belle shook her head and giggled. "I fear our children will try to make deals with us to get out of learning as well, aye?"
"Oh, no doubt. But I can out deal anyone, dearie," Rab smirked.
"Can you now?" she challenged with a smirk.
"I always hae been," the physician replied.
"Well then...I guess I'll have to see if I can outdeal you."
"Ye're welcome to try, sweetheart," he grinned. Then he picked up an apple tart from the basket they had brought and ate it.
"I'll have to think about it very carefully, after all, you do claim to be an expert...and I would have to make it worth your while..."
"Oh indeed, dearie. Indeed." His tongue flicked out and he licked the juice from the tart from his lips.
"Are you trying to temp me?" she murmured.
"Maybe a wee bit," he admitted, his dark eyes dancing. "Although why ye'd be tempted by my doing this," and he licked his lips again provocatively. "I couldna fathom."
"Could ye not now? Mayhap I should show you!"
Rab glanced at his father and brother, who were now fishing next to each other, and Ailsa also. "Were we alone, Belle . . .I'd take ye up on it."
He was tempted to pull her onto his lap and kiss her senseless.
"Well if you're not wanting a kiss then..."
"I dinna say that . . ." he protested softly, then he wrapped an arm about her and kissed her, indulging himself shamelessly.
"You see...I knew could make a deal with you!" she whispered.
"Aye . . ." he purred, his eyes smokey with the heat of his desire.
"Now then can you honestly tell me no one can outdeal you?"
"Ye're the only one who ever has managed to," he crooned.
She smiled. "I could learn to enjoy this..."
"All too easily, mo chridhe," he spoke the Gaelic endearment gently.
"Mayhap I will let you win a few times..."
The water lapped gently on the shores of the little loch and he wished passionately they were alone, so he could run his fingers through her lush hair and then down her shoulders, touching her the way he had seen his university friends do to the tavern wenches . . .except this was no illicit tumble, this was his wife . . . He almost groaned in frustration.
"Soon, Rab, soon," Belle said softly, the same thoughts on her mind that were on his.
Today however was his time to spend with the family. They would have plenty of opportunities to be alone later.
She felt a tug on her line. "Oh...Rab...I've got one..." She struggled with the pool. "Och, this laddie is putting up a fight!"
They grabbed the pole together and yanked it out of the water with the largest fish either of them had ever seen dangling on the end of the line. "He's a big laddie, sweetheart!" Rab praised.
Neal, Malcolm and Ailsa gaped at them. "What...how the hell did ye catch such a big fish, lass? Tis magic!"
"Nay Papa, she was just lucky," Rab insisted.
Neal glowered at her. "I was supposed to catch the big one!"
"Now dinna fash it lad, ye can still catch one bigger 'n me," his father chuckled.
Neal tossed his line back into the water determined to do just that so that he could skip his lessons, many of them were boring and it was a constant struggle to stay awake.
Both of them were getting impatient as they waited for the fish to bite and when Neal and Malcolm pulled their lines out of the water and compared their catch, the younger Carlyle beamed with pride. "I get to skip my lessons!" he sang.
"Dinna be thinkin' ye can do that often, lad. Ye need yer lessons so ye can help us run the keep, aye?"
"Aye, Papa."
Rab smiled and put his arm around his bride's shoulders. "Would ye like to go for a walk wi' me, sweetheart?"
"I'd love to."
"Good. Maybe now we can catch all the big fish!" Neal called back.
They didn't go far. Though Belle was starting to get around more, he didn't want to cause a relapse and had her sit down to rest.
PAGE*~*~*~*~*~*BREAK
Moira had been true to her word that she would attend Mass faithfully as part of her penance though she preferred Archie's sermons to his replacement and she was overjoyed when he arrived at the keep that morning to ask her to go with him when he visited his parishioners who were unable to attend services that day. One of them was Maggie Stewart, a young lass of twenty-five. When he and Moira entered the cottage, both of them were distressed by the young woman's condition.
"Has she seen a physician?" Archie demanded of the woman's spouse.
"Ye mean that Rabbie Carlyle. I'll not hae that witch doctor touching my lass!"
"He's no' a witch doctor, ye arse!" snapped Moira.
"He was taught by those...those...Moors," the man sneered. "And ye dinna think that makes him a witch doctor?"
"Nay it doesna and if ye dinna have her seen by a physician ye'll be answerin' t' the Almighty Father as to why ye let yer lass suffer!" Archie yelled.
"Papa...please let Mama see someone. I dinna want her to die!" sobbed their daughter Sorcha.
"All right...Father...go and fetch Rabbie Carlyle," the husband said resignedly.
The couple was nearly out of breath by the time they reached the lake and their legs ached from trying to run too fast.
"This...is...one of t' times...when I hate being auld!" Archie panted.
Rab looked up from where he was sitting holding Belle's hand. "Father Bryce, why are ye runnin' as if the devil himself were after ye?"
"Tis Missus Stewart...she's no' well at all, Rabbie...and that husband of hers dinna want t' tell ye."
"Until we convinced him to," Moira added. "Stubborn lout."
The young doctor was on his feet. "What ails the lass? Do ye know how long she's been sick?"
He knew that a few of the villagers were distrustful of his healing skills now that it was known his mentor in Edinburgh was a Moor. Many Highlanders were superstitious and feared people who were not like them. Donal Stewart was one of them.
"It sounds like she has something in her lungs, Rabbie," Moira answered.
"And we dinna know how long, lad," Archie confessed sadly.
Rab shook his head. "All right, I'll be examining her myself soon enough." He went and mounted Dancer, his medical satchel was already on the horse's saddle. Then he put his boots to the gelding's flanks and raced down to the village.
He pulled Dancer up at the small cottage and jumped to the ground, only to see a small child with reddish hair in a blue dress, barefoot, awaiting him in the yard. "Hello, dearie. I'm Dr. Rab."
"Hi! I'm Sorcha...are you gonna help my mama?"
"I'm going to try very hard. Can you tell me how long your mama has been sick?" Rab asked the child, kneeling down so he was at her eye level. He figured he could get information from the child just as well as her husband.
"Ummm...a long time...I guess.."
Rab shook his head. This sounded very grave. A long lung ailment could weaken a person and he feared very much for the patient. "All right, show me where your mama is."
"Ye're gonna save her, right?" the child asked.
"I . . . yes, I will do my best," Rab promised. He didn't want to promise something he wasn't sure he could fulfill, but he didn't want to snuff out the hope in the girl's beautiful green eyes either.
She hugged him. "Thank you! She's in here!" the little girl raced into the cottage. "Papa, Mama, he's here!"
Rab followed and prayed to Jesus and all his angels that he could save this patient. By yer will, Lord . ..
He found Maggie tossing and turning upon a pallet, her breath rasping in her throat, her hair lank against the pillow, nearly as pale as the sheets she lay upon. Rab felt his heart seize in alarm. "Hey, Maggie. I'm Dr. Rab. Can ye tell me how long ye've been ill, dearie?"
"W...Weeks..." she croaked.
Rab sighed. "I wish I hae seen ye sooner, but . . ." he looked at her husband. "Do ye hae more pillows? She needs to be propped up more, she cannae breathe lying flat."
"Aye," he growled and went to fetch some.
Rab gently put his hand on Maggie's chest and listened to her heart and took her hand and counted her pulse. What he found concerned him greatly. Her pulse was thready and the congestion in her lungs was quite bad. She also had a fever.
He opened his satchel and removed a bottle of some willowbark. He gave her some of it in a cup and then some slippery elm, marshmallow, and echinacea tonic.
He asked Sorcha, who was about seven, for a basin of cool water and some cloths so he could gently bathe Maggie's face and neck, cooling her.
"Can I do that for ye?' Sorcha asked him when she handed him the basin and cloths.
"Aye, lass. But dinna get the cloth too wet," he instructed. Then he turned to Donal, and helped him put the pillows behind Maggie, sitting her up.
Some of the rasping eased.
"I need ye to boil some water and bring it to me with a towel."
Donal gave him a suspicious look, but obeyed. Rab put the basin of water on a chair and helped the stricken woman lean over it, draping the towel over her head so it formed a tent. "Now, dearie, I want ye to breathe in the steam. Just breathe."
For twenty minutes he had her inhale the steam and to the water he added some crushed Echinacea and mint. For a few moments it seemed the treatment was working and her breathing eased. Then she began to cough, bringing up yellow phelgm.
Rab frowned, for that was a sign of infection.
He held her head over a bowl so she could spit into it, then allowed her to lie back against the pillows. "Rest, dearie. I'm going to make ye some tea. Would ye hae any broth? She needs to keep up her strength. The coughing exhausts her."
He made a soothing tea of chamomile and honey, mixed up poultices of mustard and gently spooned the tea into his patient's mouth. "How do ye feel now? A bit better?"
"A..Aye..." she whispered.
"That's good."
He had Sorcha continue to bathe her with the wet cloth, and gave her more medicine after an hour.
The fever seemed to lessen slightly.
Donal frowned at him. Then he hissed in Rab's ear, "Will she make it?"
"I cannae say that yet," Rab muttered. "Ye need to gi' the medicine time to work."
But he feared that they had waited too long. Maggie was very weak and the infection had gone on too long without treatment. She was thin and almost gaunt, and her eyelids fluttered closed as she sank into a fitful doze.
"Dinna lie t'me, witch doctor!"
Rab's eyes flashed, and he pulled the other man into the kitchen and snapped, "I am no' lying, Donal Stewart! Had ye come to me when Maggie first showed signs of growing worse, things might no' have come to such a turn. Yer wife is gravely ill, man! She has nae the strength left to breathe right. But I will do the best I can, and pray that God will be merciful to ye."
Donal sat down in a chair and buried his face in his hands.
All the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Rab worked ceaselessly to try and save his patient. He poured draught after draught of strengthening teas and used poultices of mashed garlic, mustard, and onions to try and draw the congestion from her lungs. He tried to coax her to eat the chicken broth.
Sorcha helped him bathe her mother and held her hand, talking to her softly. "Mama, ye must get well. Drink the broth like Dr. Rab tells ye. Then we can make porridge with honey and blueberries."
Maggie's eyes fluttered open and she gave her daughter a wan smile. "Aye . . .we can, alannean."
She obediently opened her mouth to let Rab spoon some broth between her cracked lips.
But after barely three spoonfuls she turned her head away, and soon drifted into a fitful sleep again.
"Mama?" Sorcha asked worriedly.
"Let her rest, dearie," Rab said gently. "She's tired." His heart broke then, for he could see Maggie's life slowly guttering out like a spent candle. He took Sorcha's hand in his. "Why dinna ye go and eat something, Sorcha? I'll stay with her."
"Aye, sir" She hesitated for a minute before she went into the kitchen with her father.
Rab clasped his hands together and prayed. Lord, in yer mercy, I beg ye to heal her . . .or to at least let me ease her suffering before ye take her . . . A part of him had known as soon as he had seen her that she was too far gone to save. The medicines could not work fast enough to beat the fever and the congestion. And her body did not have the strength or the reserves for a lengthy recovery.
But another part of him, the stubborn part, refused to give up hope. As long as there was breath there was hope. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest and tried to think of any other remedy he hadn't tried.
Maggie's eyes opened again and she coughed violently.
"Easy, dearie," Rab put an arm around her, supporting her while the spasm wracked her frame. He gave her some more cherry cordial, a stronger dose than usual, and gently wiped her lips with a damp cloth.
"D...Doctor..."
"What is it, Maggie?"
"D..Do you see my Papa...? He's...he's waiting for me..."
Rab felt his heart grow still. "Are ye sure, dearie?"
She nodded with a smile. "He and Mama...they want me to come home..."
He gazed at her with knowing eyes. "Would ye like me to call yer lass and Donal for ye?"
"Aye...I must...I must say goodbye to them..."
Rab saw the finality in her gaze. She knew she was not long for this world. Beneath his hand, he could feel her breathing shallowly. "Shall I send someone for a priest?"
"Aye...Father Bryce..."
He nodded. Then he kissed her gently on the brow. "I . . .I'm sorry I couldna do more for ye . . ."
"Ye made my last moments...more comfortable...Doctor...and I thank ye..."
Rab rose, and went into the kitchen, his heart slowly breaking for the knowledge he bore and also for the fact that hadn't been able to keep his promise. "Donal . . . Maggie is askin' for ye and Sorcha."
A long look was exchanged between the two men.
"Papa...why? What's wrong?" Sorcha cried.
"Come, lass. Yer mama wants ye," Donal said gruffly, and took his daughter's hand.
Rab decided to give them some privacy and went outside to tell a neighbor to fetch Father Bryce, up at the crofter's hut.
The sun was slowly sinking and painted the sky a panorama of beautiful colors-violet, blue, rose, and gold. Rab gazed at it, and his eyes burned.
Archie arrived a short time later with Moira at his side. "I'll just stay out here with Rabbie," she said to him.
He kissed her cheek. "Thank ye lass."
Rab nodded to Archie, and continued to gaze out at the sunset. His hands clenched and he whispered harshly, "I came too late! I failed her . . ."
"Nay, lad, nay!" Archie insisted. "The Lord was already calling her home before ye came, lad...ye just made the journey less painful for her."
Rab shook his head, his jaw clenched stubbornly. He knew the priest was correct, but he didn't want to hear it.
"Go, Father. Let her be shriven."
"We'll talk later, lad," the priest said softly.
When Archie walked into the cottage, Donal was kneeling beside his wife's bed with her hand in his while their daughter sobbed beside him.
"Father..." Maggie called out weakly.
He approached the opposite side of the bed and took the woman's other hand.
He'd administered the last rites to so many over the years but it always tore at his heart every time he saw the Lord take someone so young like Maggie, a wife and mother.
"Peace to this house and all who dwell therein," he said softly.
He handed Maggie a small crucifix. The young woman raised it to her lips and kissed it softly while he sprinkled the room with Holy Water. "Cleanse me of sin with hyssop, Lord, that I may be purified; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Have mercy on me, O God, according to Thy great mercy. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost."
Sorcha fled from the room in tears.
He listened attentively as Maggie gave her final confession, the only issue that had been troubling the young woman in her final weeks was that she had waited too long to tell her husband she was ill.
The moment he spoke the last words of the ritual, the young woman closed her eyes and smiled softly. She was home at last.
Rab sensed a change when he could no longer hear Archie's voice. He walked back into the cottage, knowing already what he would find. This was not the first patient he had lost. But the death of one so young, and one with a child, always hurt him profoundly.
He walked to the bed, and checked her vital signs. There were none. "She's gone home with the angels now." He wrote down the time and date in his small logbook. Then he gently drew the sheet over her face, which rested in peaceful repose.
Then he silently began to clean up the medicines and other paraphernalia.
"You lied to me!" Sorcha wailed.
Rab jerked his head up. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I tried . . ."
"Ye said ye were gonna help Mama and she died!"
There was nothing he could say to that impassioned declaration, no words came that could ease the pain he knew she was feeling. But he met her gaze with his own, and tears glistened in his eyes.
"I want my mama back!"
She threw her arms around his legs and held onto him. "Make her come back, please!"
He hugged her hard and crooned, "I wish I could, dearie. But God wished for her to join him . . .as He did my own mama." Recalling his own loss made his heart ache fiercely, and it was as if he were enduring Ceri's passing all over again.
"Your mama went to heaven with the angels too?"
"Aye, she did. Six years ago," he said softly. "And now she an' yer mama are together watching us."
"So I gotta be good?"
"Aye, lass, so yer mama will see ye again someday." He touched her chest. "And remember, she will always live here, in yer heart."
"I just wish ye coulda brought her back..."
"I know. I wish that too. But sometimes . . .sometimes no matter what we wish, God decides otherwise. To all things there is a season . . .and a time . . .and yer mama was verra sick. In pain and now she rests in the arms of our Lord, where there is no more pain or sorrow. Only joy."
"She's with Gramma?"
"Aye. They are all together now,"
"Sorcha...come here lass!" her father called out.
"Go, sweetheart. Yer papa needs ye," Rab ordered quietly.
She ran to her father in the kitchen as Archie walked into the room.
He knew the young man was tormenting himself, thinking there was more that could have been done for poor Maggie but the moment the priest saw his young parishoner, he realize that all the lad could do was ease her suffering in her final hours.
Rab supposed now was a good time to leave, before Donal in his grief pointed a finger at him and blamed him for Maggie's death. Sorcha had been understandable, no child of seven was rational in grief like that, but Donal hadn't trusted him before summoning him, let alone now.
"Witch doctor!"
Rab turned and said softly, "I'm going to forget ye said that, for speaking heresy against your laird is a sin, but I can excuse ye on account of your loss. Ye have my condolences, but what God wants He takes, and no mortal can say Him nay."
In his grief Donal had become irrational, allowing his superstitions and his prejudices to get the better of him as many people in their village had.
"I dinna care if ye are my laird or no. Ye dinna do enough for my Maggie!"
"No doctor could hae done what ye wished, for no doctor has the power to conquer death. When ye called me she already had one foot through the gates. I hae seen death come calling before, and I did what I could do to make her passing easier. If I could've, I would have saved her. On that I pledge ye my word, and the word of a Carlyle has always been good."
Fortunately the widower knew this to be true and could not dispute it. "What do I do now...wi'out my Maggie?' he sobbed.
Rab handed him a handkerchief. "Ye do what I did after my lady mother passed. Ye mourn, and remember, and then ye look about ye and see what ye hae left to live for. For ye, 'tis easy to do that. Dinna forget that while yer wife is gone, a piece o' her lives on in her daughter."
"And Sorche needs ye lad," Archie reminded him.
He pulled Rab aside. "I'll be here a bit lad. Can ye see Moira home for me?"
"Aye," he replied. "If ye need aught, ye hae but to ask." Then he picked up his satchel and went out, knowing that Archie would be there to provide solace to the family, and other friends and neighbors would help prepare the body of the young woman for the wake and funeral in the following days.
Rab went out and said to Moira, "The Father will be awhile yet, so best we get on home. I need something to eat and I'd wager so do ye."
"Aye...oh lad, that puir woman and her young bairn. Come on..ye need to see yer lass."
He nodded and mounted his horse, pulling his old nurse up behind him. He was silent as they rode back to the keep, thinking that all he wanted was some food and sleep, for the hours he'd spent caring for Maggie had taken their toll.
Moira was hoping the lady Belle would bring some comfort to her laird when Archie was tending to the family. She was proving to be a strong one even for a Fraser and this would certainly test her mettle. Rabbie was the brooding sort...he'd retreated into his own lonely world after the Lady Ceri's death and Archie had been the only one to pull him out of it.
Rab felt the shadows of his old inadequacy rear up and shroud him in their familiar embrace. Despite his words to the crofter and little Sorcha, despite all the logic he knew, still he felt terribly guilty that he had not been able to save Maggie. If only he had been a day sooner, or several days . . . that would have made all the difference.
Sorcha's shrill little voice sobbing, "You promised!" tore at him worse than a demon from hell prodding him with a pitchfork.
Belle, despite protests from the rest of the Carlyles insisted on waiting outside for Rabbie to return. She knew he would do everything humanly possible to save the young woman but she hoped his help had not come too late.
Rab rode into the stableyard, his face drawn and hard. He helped Moira down and then handed Dancer's reins to a groom. He almost missed his wife standing there, he was so exhausted.
"Rabbie..." she said softly and held out her arms, seeing the pain and exhaustion in her betrothed's face.
"Belle, why are ye out here?" he scolded softly. "Ye'll catch a cold." But even as he protested her presence, he went and hugged her.
"I wanted to see if...all was well with Maggie..."
He stiffened then said abruptly, "No. I lost her. She was too weak, the sickness had taken too much out o' her. I promised her wee lass I'd save her, and I failed." His tone was mocking and bitter, though it was all directed at himself. "Come, let us go inside, before ye catch a chill and I watch ye die too."
He pulled away from her embrace and walked swiftly into the hall, brushing his eyes with his hand briefly.
"Rabbie!" Belle cried, hurrying after him as much as she could. "Moira...help me..."
"Come on lass, he needs ye."
"I dinna mean for him to think...why is he blaming himself? He did everything he could..."
"He gets like this, lass...go on now..."
Rab entered the hall and saw some of the Carlyle men-at-arms and keep servants eating and drinking at the trestles.
Neal was sitting beside Ailsa and when he saw his brother, called, "Rab, what happened?"
Rab barely paused to address his sibling. "Not now, Neal! Go to bed!" he snapped.
Ignoring the boy's startled hurt look, he snagged a passing gillie and told the man to have wash water and a meal brought up to his quarters, then he strode up the stairs.
"Rabbie!" Belle cried, limping up the stairs after him, ignoring the pain in her foot. "Wait..."
"Ye dinna want to be botherin the lad when he's broodin'" one of the men said.
"Och ye hold yer tongue, ye drunken arse!" snapped Moira.
He spun then, and saw Belle struggling to get to him and growled, "God's teeth, lady! Do ye wish to kill yerself?"
He came back down the stairs and picked her up in his arms, muttering something about falling and breaking her neck, but he was gentle as he mounted the stairs again and brought her to their room.
He carried her inside and set her on the bed, disturbing a sleeping Rumple, who woke and mewed at him. "Hush, ye wee fiend!"
The kitten had no fear of him, however, and came and rubbed his hand, purring. Rab reluctantly petted the cat, then withdrew to the other side of the room. He tossed his satchel on the table, rubbed his eyes and sat down to remove his boots.
"Rabbie, talk to me," she pleaded.
"I have naught more to say on the matter," he growled. He ran his hands through his hair and yawned.
"It would help if you talked it out..Rabbie, please...don't do this...let me help you."
"What help can ye be to me?" he demanded harshly. "The woman is dead, and not all my skill could prevent it." His mouth twisted. "Her husband called me a witch doctor, would that I did possess magic, I might hae saved her life. As it was, all I could do was make her comfortable."
"Rabbie, even having all the magic in the world cannot keep someone from dying." She reached out to touch his shoulder. "Only God can do that Rabbie. You made her final moments comfortable...perhaps that was what you were meant to do. You cannot think her death was your fault. You can't!"
He looked away from her abruptly. A part of her knew she was right, yet the other part, the guilty part, whispered that his lack of knowledge was what had caused his patient to die. "I did all that I knew how, yet it wasn't enough." He cried, frustrated. "Because I lacked the knowledge . . ."
"No you did not!" she insisted. "How long had she been sick?"
"Weeks . . .or so she said to me when I asked. She thought it was but a little cough . . .and she would soon be well . . ." He clenched his fist on the table.
"When you saw her, you realized she'd been sick too long, didn't you?"
"Aye . . .she was but skin and bones, drawn, and she had no strength left in her. She was like a piece of thread stretched too tight," he recalled. "Every breath was a struggle."
"Instead of allowing her to suffer, you made her comfortable, Not many doctors will do that..."
"Her lass expected me to save her . . .for a moment I had hoped . . .but I was a fool . . ."
"Did you promise her you would save her mama? Or did you tell her you could do all you could?"
"I said I would try," he muttered, then opened the door for the servant with the tray of food. Another entered with warm water and poured it into the wash basin.
He thanked them and they hurried out, obviously not wishing to be around him in the mood he was in. Rab washed his hands and face quickly, then turned to sit down and eat the food that had been brought~a shepherd's pie, half a capon stuffed with apple stuffing, bread, fruit, and cheese.
There was also a goblet of ale. Rab drank it before he cut some of the pie and ate it, not really tasting anything.
"Then you did everything humanly possible that you could, Rabbie."
"Yet another child weeps for a mother I could not save . . . like I couldna save my own," he whispered darkly.
"How were you not able to save Ceri?" she asked sadly.
"Because again I dinna know she was sick . . . and by the time I did learn it was too late. I came home to bury her," he cried anguished.
"And again you would have been able to only make her final days comfortable, Rabbie. How are you able to help someone if they don't tell you they're ill?"
He did not respond, staring morosely down at his food and stirring it with his fork. He drank some more ale, but it tasted bitter.
Belle felt like a failure. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't reach her betrothed.
Rumple, sensing Rab's distress, wound himself about the other's ankles, purring loudly. When this brought no response, the kitten jumped up on his lap and began to knead Rab's thigh.
Maybe he will do a better job, Belle thought sadly.
At first the doctor ignored the kitten, but soon the regularity of the purring and kneading caused the man to relax and his hand stroked the small body reflexively.
The kitten nuzzled and purred some more, and Rab broke off a piece of capon and gave it to Rumple. "Here, imp. Is this what you want? Hmmm?"
"This little beastie always makes me feel better, don't you, Rumple?" Belle asked.
Rumple ate the chicken greedily, then licked Rab's fingers.
As if that were a signal, there came another meow and Raine meandered into the room, and pawed at her master's leg, giving him a sharp look, as if to say what about ME?
Belle giggled. "Now you're in a bit of trouble."
Rab glanced down. "Now dinna get in a snit, my bonny lass. I dinna forget ye." He gave Raine some chicken also.
His tabby gobbled it down, then nipped him slightly. "Hey! You BIT me!"
Raine switched her tail at him and narrowed her amber eyes.
"Raine! That wasn't very nice," Belle scolded.
The cat sniffed, then meowed and jumped up on Rab's other knee, half-shoving Rumple off.
"Ah, ye're a jealous wee beastie," Rab said. His hand rubbed her back and she purred also. "Dinna fash yerself, I still love ye, silly kit!"
"Maybe I should become a cat..." Belle mused, unaware that she'd spoken aloud.
Rab almost choked on his ale. "W-what?"
"I...nothing..." she said quickly.
She didn't want to tell him what was on her mind because he had enough on his mind as it was but she couldn't help feeling there was more she should be doing.
He looked at her guiltily. "I'm not very good company now, I'm afraid." He eyed his dinner and ate a few more mouthfuls, because he knew he needed the sustenance, not because he was hungry.
"Rabbie...do you want me to go...?"
He pushed his plate away, then changed his mind and put it on the floor for the cats to eat. The two began to devour it.
Then he rose. "I . . .think I need to sleep . . ." He tugged off his tunic and pulled on his sleep shirt, then his breeches followed. He walked over to his side of the bed and lay down, saying, "This is your room too, dearie, ye may stay if ye want." He closed his eyes.
I'll stay." She went behind the changing screen and retrieved her nightrail but was having a bit of difficulty with her crutches. "Rabbie...would you mind..."
Her face flushed. She was having trouble trying to keep her balance while she pulled the garment down over her head.
Rab sat up. "Just a minute, dearie." His hands came about her waist, holding her steady. His lips were right by her ear as he spoke and he couldn't help but note how lovely his wife was.
"I'm sorry to bother you like this..."
"Tis no bother," he murmured. Then he kissed her behind the ear.
"Thank you, darling," she said softly.
He rested his chin on her shoulder. "Ye're more patient than I deserve."
"I know today has been difficult for you...I just wish I knew what to say..."
"Dinna say anything, dearie. Just . . . stay wi' me."
That she could do. She crawled into bed and Rumple jumped up with her and lay down on her stomach. "Now Rumple..."
Rab chuckled and turned on his side. "He's verra like a tiny lad. Wants to be near ye all the time."
"MEEEEOWWW!" Raine screeched in protest and jumped up on her own master.
"Like I said . . .'tis like two siblings fightin' for their parents' attention." He picked up his cat and placed her on his pillow. "There, ye sleep here, so if I turn over I dinna crush ye, ye fuzzy minx."
"This bed's going to be a bit crowded," Belle giggled.
"'Twill be worse if we had bairns," he remarked. Then his face fell as he recalled Sorcha. "I need to send Sorcha something. But what?"
"A gift made with your own hands means so much," Belle suggested.
"What do ye think she would like? A blanket? Or a shawl? Or something to sleep wi'?"
"Something to sleep with...perhaps a doll..."
"Aye . . .I can make a rag doll," he mused.
"That'll be perfect, Rabbie. She'll love it."
"Perhaps ye can make some other clothes to go wi' it?"
"I can try...may need a bit of help with the sewing..."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are ye telling me ye cannae sew?"
"Ummm...well...a bit...but my stitches are a bit...crooked..."
Rab smirked. "Practice makes perfect, dearie. I learned to sew cloth years before I learned to sew flesh."
"Did Moira teach you or your mama?"
"My mama did. Papa taught us how to knit."
"I tried to learn but I was more interested in tending to the animals."
"Speaking o' animals, ye're doing a bonny job wi' Auriel."
"I try," she said modestly.
There were a few times however, where all of the skills she had hadn't been enough to save an animal she'd tended.
She'd taken each loss to heart and blamed herself as he did but this loss was much deeper to him, it took him back to the time of his mother's death.
Rab closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but as he drifted off, he dreamed he was chasing Ceri and Maggie and they turned and waved to him before jumping off the cliff.
He flung himself down and tried to grab their hands but he was too late, and an angel came and flew away with them. "Come back!" he yelled. "Come back!"
Belle awoke hearing Rab crying out in his sleep. "Rab...Rabbie...wake up!" she cried.
He woke still calling for them. "Come back . . ."
"Rabbie, it's Belle...it's Belle...I'm here..." she said soothingly, thinking he was calling out for her.
"Belle . . .they flew away with an angel . . ." he gasped.
"Who did?"
"Maggie and my mama . . ." he repeated. "I tried . . .I tried to stop them . . . but they jumped and the angel caught them. He took them away. . ."
"Because they were needed in Heaven..." she murmured as she embraced him and gently ran her hands through his hair.
He allowed her to hold him, then he did something he normally did not do. He wept on her shoulder.
She hoped that just holding him would be enough of a comfort to him...and he never needed to be ashamed to cry in front of her. All of the men in her family and she suspected his never allowed their women to see this side of them but this was one of those times when he needed share his sorrow rather than conceal it.
Rab would have felt ashamed of his sudden outburst, but he was too weary and hurting to pretend to stoicism. So he took the solace his wife offered and fell asleep snuggled beside her, the tears drying upon his face and her pillow.
A/N: Sorry this has been so late getting updated but ff was down for awhile and also I was sick. Thanks to CJ for her assistance as always.