When I find I am in an unexpected situation or suddenly taken by surprise, I find my natural instincts take over. I immediately drop the glass, vault to my feet using my newly repaired arm as leverage and lunge to the table for my dirk and sword, roaring my adversaries name as I move "RANDALL!". I reach the table and grab my dirk and turn to meet my foe only to see that with a look of sheer terror on his face, he is backing quickly away from me as fast as his legs will carry him right into the back of the settee. He hits the back of the piece of furniture so quickly that he flips over the back of it, sending his legs in the air still moving like he is running. The next thing I hear is a thud as his body hits the floor on the other side. I quickly look back to make sure Claire is unscathed. I can see she is terrified, poor wee thing. Randall has taken us both by surprise.
"Do'na worry Claire, I will protect ya." I state with prowess, turn and in two steps I leap over the back of the settee and am standing over Randall, with my dirt pointed at his throat, Randall looking, with fear in his eyes, scared beyond words. "Move one finger and I will kill you where you lie." I tell him. I then stop myself, remove my weapon from his throat and stand straight though I still straddle his prone body. This is not Black Jack Randall. I sniff the air. No. This man is scared. Pissed himself in his breeks he has. Looks like Jonathon Randall but is not. The deep creases in his cheeks are not there, like Black Jack has. This man's hair is a much lighter brown. Black Jack's is almost black in color. The eyes are the same color but this man's eyes have none of the evil and darkness that hides in Black Jacks eyes...
"Jamie, stop!" I hear Claire pleading. "Stop Jamie!"
I place my bare foot on this man's chest and put enough weight on it he will not go anywhere, turn and look at Claire. She is struggling to her feet.
"Please, Jamie. Do not hurt Frank. Frank is a friend of mine. A Friend. Please, Please, put your weapon down. Don't hurt him." She says as she looks at me. I see the pleading in her eyes. Not love, but friendship is there. The it dawns on me, Claire has a glass face. I ken what she is thinking just by the look on her face. I smile at the thought.
"This is not funny James MacTavish. Not funny at all." she growls at me as she reaches the back of the settee. Please remove your foot from Frank's chest and help him up." She turns to Frank all sweetness and kindness and full of apologies and says, "Gee Frank. I am so sorry. Are you alright? Sit down. Let me get you a drink and I'll explain everything, I promise" and she walks back into the kitchen and pours him a whiskey, putting two ice cubes in his, walks back and hands it to him.
I look at Claire with a raised eyebrow.
"What? Oh alright, just one," she says and returns with what is quickly becoming an empty bottle of whiskey and two more glasses. She pour one for me and her.
"Jamie, this is Frank Randall. He is a work associate of my Uncle Lambs. He's a historian...and a friend of mine as well. Frank, this is James MacTavish. Uncle Lamb picked him up on the road coming back from Fort Williams today. Lamb said Jamie was walking down the middle of the road in the dark, in the rain. Jamie says he's trying to get home; he lives in Lallybroch. Ever heard of it?"
Neither man says anything. They both just look each other over from head to toe and then back. Sizing each other up like two boxers before a match. Frank finally breaks the staring contest and takes a long drink from his glass. He then looks Jamie over one more time, stands up, hands me his glass and says he needs to use the loo. He then turns and walks way.
I sniff. I do not ken if he needs a 'loo' to use but he has certainly pissed himself and maybe more. That makes me smile again. I finish my whiskey in one swallow and turn to look at Claire, who I find, is staring intently at me.
"Would you like to tell me what the hell that was all about, Mr. MacTavish?" Claire asks, swirling her whiskey in her glass and not drinking it.
"Ouch" I say out loud not meaning to. I recognize that tone of voice. I did something wrong and I am about to get a tongue lashing, the likes my sister Jenny has never given me, and she has given me plenty. I reach out and take Claire's glass of whiskey, swallow it in one gulp and hand the glass back to her.
"No. No Claire, I do'na think I would like to tell you what that was all about, but I think you are not going to let me off with that, are ya?" I looked as her sheepishly through my lashes as I speak.
"Claire? Claire, would you come here please?" Frank interrupts calling from down the hall.
Claire turns, looks at me and says, "I want an explanation about what just happened. I am not angry, but I am very concerned. You knew who Frank was. You called him by name. You were threatening to injure him in order to protect me. That's what you were doing, right?" She stops talking and is looking at me for a reply.
Jamie reads her face and sighs. She is telling me the truth. She is not angry, but very concerned.
"Claire. I really need you." Frank calls out again.
Claire looks at me. Looks me hard in the face and places her hand gently on my good shoulder. "Jamie, are you ok? I need to see what Frank needs, but I will be right back, alright?" She removes her hand, turns and walks away, down the hall saying, "I'm coming Frank."
I turn from Jamie and walk down the hall and to find Frank hiding behind the bathroom door with only his head sticking out ready to pull back inside and close the door if I had been Jamie, I'm quite sure. I stop in front of the door with my hands on my hips. "What Frank? What do you need my help with?" He opens the door and I can see he has taken his trousers off.
"I need to borrow a clean pair of trousers and underwear from Lambert. Your little friend in there scared the shit out of me, quite literally, I'm afraid. I would like to take a shower and to wash up. I will rinse my pants off in here as well, if you don't mind. Would you please get me a towel and a wash cloth?"
"Sure, fine. But you are not staying the night. Look, you and I both know you were never invited for dinner tonight. I don't want to hear whatever reason you've made up to be here. You are going back to your apartment tonight, agreed? And before you say anything, Jamie has dibs on the 2nd bed in Uncle Lambs room. I am getting you a bag to put your soiled clothes in. You can wash them when you get back to your place."
I turn to walk away, stop and turn back. "He knew you didn't he Frank? Jamie. For a second it looked like you recognized Jamie too. Do you, Frank? Do you know James MacTavish?" I ask with an eyebrow raised.
Frank nods his head and says, "I think so." Look, let me shower and get dressed. We'll talk before I leave. Alright?"
I go back to the kitchen and there is Jamie sitting at the kitchen table, hold his bad arm to his side with his good arm. He looks up. He's face tells me how much pain he is in.
"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ." I exclaim. "You re-injured it, haven't you? When you got up from the floor in such a hurry, you used that arm."
He confirms my theory with a single nod of his head.
I walk over and stand in front of him. He looks up at me with those gorgeous blue eye and my knees start to cave on me again. I grab the table and look at the ceiling, the floor, the sink anywhere but his face. Stop it Claire Beauchamp, stop it right now. Quit mooning over him like he's the captain of the cricket team and you are 16. The man is in pain and needs your help. I manage to find his shoulder while avoiding eye contact with him. I feel his shoulder and surrounding muscles. Finally, I have gained enough control back to look him in the face and I start to explain, "The joint is still in the right place; your movement did not knock it back out. I think it is best not to move it in order to determine any further damage, at least for tonight. You are clearly in pain and I need to wrap this arm to give it support and keep it from moving in the night. That will help with some of the discomfort. I would also like to give you something a little stronger for the pain but it will make you sleepy. I can let you sleep while I make supper. You look completely done in, a rest might not be a bad idea anyway. Are we in agreement?" I ask.
I am right. He is hurting. In fact so badly he does not even answer me, he simply nods his head.
"Jamie. Jamie look at me." I said softly.
Jamie complies and looks up.
"I am not mad at you. Honest. I am just confused as to why you thought you needed to protect me so vehemently from Frank. Can you tell me about it?" I ask with concern.
Jamie just looked up at me, tired and sad.
I place my hand on his cheek and say, "Never mind. Let me get you something a little stronger for the pain and then wrap that shoulder up. You can rest on the sofa while I make dinner. I thing you will feel better with some food in you. You must be hungry, are you?"
Jamie nodded his head. He could eat a whole sheep. Maybe even a cow. Maybe a cow and a sheep. I hope she can cook, he wished, though without a fire he did'na see how and he saw no fireplace.
The sheet that Jamie and I had fought over earlier, I am tearing into strips when Uncle Lamb comes back. He has a small pile of clothes. "Johnny said we can keep these. He does not fit into them anymore. Hopefully some of it will work for Jamie," Uncle Lamb says as he sets them down on the table. He looks at Jamie, then looks me and says, "Claire, Jamie does not look very well. What happened? Where is Frank? Did he leave? I needed to go over some of my research with him."
"Damn," I say. "Sorry. Frank is in the bathroom cleaning up. He had an accident," and I shoot Jamie a look. He looks up at me and smiles. He knows what he did to Frank. How does he know that? "Can you take him this brown bag and get him a towel and wash cloth and take them to him? I am going to finish wrapping our dear Jamie here like he's a mummy and then I will start dinner. Bangers and mash ok? I got some lovely tomatoes and thought I'd slice them up as a salad. Oh and a loaf of french bread and brie cheese." I said and went back to tearing the sheet into strips. "Oh Lamb, did you invite Frank to dinner tonight?"
"Hum," Uncle Lambert say and stops. "Why, yes, I believe I did. Do we have enough?"
"Then best tell him he can stay for dinner. He will need to borrow a pair of boxers and trousers from you. You are still the same size, yes?"
Lambert nods and walks out of the kitchen, through the living room and down the hall.
I look down and find that I have somehow managed to take hold of Jamie's hand during my conversation with Lamb. I turn and look down into those beautiful blue eyes and sigh. A girl could get lost in them. I wonder if he is married or has a girlfriend. I wouldn't mind if he ate crackers in my bed, after we were married that is. Abstinence until marriage, that has been my motto. And at 27, it looks like I will die a old maid, though I have had offers. I just have not found Mr. Right, until now, I think. It makes me very jealous to think of Jamie even kissing another girl and I frown at the thought. I realize I have drifted off, shake my head and focus.
I notice that Jamie is looking at me with his head tilted to the side like he is trying to decide something.
I shake my head again, to clear my daydream and finish tearing the sheet into the strips I need and roll the strips up to make them easier to use. I kneel in front of Jamie and he instinctively knows to open his legs so I can get in close. I start by laying the start of the sheet strip across his stomach and then gently lay his injured arm on top of it.
"Hold your arm there, please Jamie. Loosely, not tight. Perfect." I instruct.
I take the roll of the sheet strip and start wrapping it around his torso under his good arm, around his back and then back around the front. In order to reach around his body to pass the roll from my right hand to my left I have to flatten myself into his chest. The first pass, I notice his scent, heather and wool. I close my eyes and breathe the essence of Jamie in and sigh. By the fourth pass I am smelling heather and wool and horses and sweat. It smells like heaven to me. When the roll passes from right to left and then is back in the front, I cut the remainder of the roll off . I take the end, make a snip with the scissors and the tear the one strip in half lengthwise once around his body and use that to secure the bandage in the front with a knot. I explain to Jamie that he really should not move it for 24 – 48 hours if at all possible. He needed to sleep with it wrapped tonight and I would check it tomorrow.
When I am done I look up and into those blue eyes that are now a dark blue like the oceans deep. I know I want to kiss him, badly. To feel his lips on mine. I see his eyes flicker like he is thinking the same thing. I try and help him decide by placing my hands on his thighs, closing my eyes, tilting my head and leaning in while whispering "yes, please, Jamie."
And then I'm not sure. I think I feel his lips barely touch mine and then they are gone. A kiss over so fast that maybe I just imagined it. I open my eyes, unsure that the kiss even happened and sad that if there was a kiss that it is over so quickly, I have no memory to repeat in my dreams. I see Jamie is looking into my eyes now that I have opened them...deep into my soul as he turns his head to one side and then back to the other, like he is trying for better view into my depths. I reach up and trace my fingers over my lips, like I am trying to feel for the memory of the kiss, like fingers dancing across braille to read what is written. I feel nothing. I look down at the kitchen floor. I must have imagined it. He does have a girlfriend and does not wish to kiss me. I use my hands on his knees to lift myself up and turn my back to him quickly. I can not stop the single tear that falls from my eye from my disappointment, and I do not want him to see it.
"Bangers and Mash" Claire calls it. Looks like Sausage and some white fluffy stuff. Tomatoes, does the woman not ken they are poisonous? And bread and cheese, french cheese but cheese. Sausage is good. I like sausage. We would cook them over a fire when we were living rough on the road. Mash. Claire says it's a boiled potato with milk and butter. I have only had a potato a hand full of times in my life but I liked them. Never cooked in water though. We just shove them into the fire and cook them whole; roasted Claire calls that. Tomatoes. I try and tell Claire they are poisonous and she just laughs at me. She says that mushrooms are the poisonous ones, that I am confused. Bread and Cheese, well you'd have to be daft not to like them, even if the cheese is a smelly french one.
I watch as she flutters about the kitchen preparing dinner like a mam bird fluttering to protect a hidden nest. I keep an eye on Claire to see if she is a witch and where the fire to cook with is going to appear. She turns one of 5 knobs on a box in the middle of the kitchen and a small flame appears when she holds a 'match' to it. I get up to look and Claire pushes me back down in the chair. Tells me to stay out of her way while she is cooking. She puts a pot of water on to boil for the potatoes she tells me. She took a pot to the 'sink' and turned a handle and water came running out of a 'spout'. She has a tiny stream in her kitchen. This kitchen is full of magic. Maybe she is a witch. She filled the pot up with the water and puts it on of the wee fire. She gets a 'frying pan' and she puts on another little flame she 'lights' by turning another of the knobs and using another 'match'. I reach for the box of matches and take one out and rub it against the side of the box like Claire did and nothing happens. She must be a witch and I nod my head to myself. In this 'frying pan', she pours perfectly good ale in it then places the sausage in that to cook. She lets me have the rest of the ale she does not need. I like being the 'kitchen's helper'. Claire asks me if I want to slice the tomatoes and I furiously shake my head 'No' and reminder her she should not eat them as they are poisonous and she will die. She, ignores my warning and slices them anyway and places them on a plate. Twice, one from each tomato, she eats one of the slices. The first time, she places it her mouth, chews, then makes a face and grabs her throat and starts to choke. I immediately leap up grab her with one arm and cry for Friend Lambert. Frank shows up as well. I turn back around and Claire is laughing at me.
"Just kidding Jamie. I'm fine honestly. Just a joke. And laughs some more. Lambert and Frank both smile and walk back to the 'living room'.
I glare at her in anger but I cannot stay mad at her long.
She turns another knob and pulls the handle and a door opens. She 'lights more fire with another 'match', places the bread on a shelf inside and then closes the door. When Claire 'blew' the fire out on the 'match' she set it on a dish by the sink with the others. I reached up and grabbed the dish when Claire is not looking and compare her matches to mine. Hers look burnt and mine doesn't. I can make no sense of the wee sticks. This is a verra cleaver witch.
I 'clear' the table which is basically removing everything off the top of it. It is mostly things Claire used to mend my scratches. I put them back in the basket and set in on the table in the hall. Claire has put a 'table cloth' down and 'napkins' and is placing 'silverware and dishes' down for us to eat with. I think this eating is starting to look complicated.
"Alright men, go wash up. Supper is in ten minutes. I ken what 'wash up' is and follow Randall and Lambert to the front door only they turn down the hall. Maybe I don't ken 'wash up' then. I turn and they go into the 'loo' and I hear running water. There is a small stream in there too? I look in the door and see Randall and Lambert bent over something. I wait and watch. Finally Randall steps away and his hands are wet. He takes a small towel from the wall and dries his hands and steps past me and back into the hallway. He hands me the wet towel and turns and walks back toward the 'living room' and the 'kitchen' and Claire! I throw the towel at Lambert and run the 6 steps down the hall, turn into the living room to see Randall sitting on the settee. I stop as Randall looks up with fresh fear in his eyes. He drops his hands by his side and tenses his body like he is ready to run again.
"Claire!" He says quietly but urgently without moving a hair. "Claire, I think I need you. Now, if you would be so kind as to come here. Please!"
Claire appears in the arch that separates the kitchen and the living room. "Yes Frank?" What do you need?" she says with impatiences. "I am in the middle of mashing the potatoes."
"Your extremely large and very intimidating new boyfriend," nodding his head at me, "looks like he wants to eat me. I am a little fearful for my life right at this particular minute. Unless Lambert wants to lend me another pair of trousers, you'd better call him off, Claire."
"Jamie." Claire speaks my name. I look up. She is smiling at me. "Please leave Frank alone. He is harmless. If you have finished washing up, come help me mash the potatoes, please," and she turns and walks back into the kitchen. I turn, smile at Randall and wink. Now, my sister Jenny says I can'na wink. Winking is closing just one eye she says. When I wink both my eyes close. Jenny says that is blinking. So when I say I winked at Randall, I guess what I really did is blink at him. Randall, he did'na like it, not one little bit. And I continued to the kitchen to help my wee kitchen witch. I am beginning to like auld Frank Randall. He is fun to play with. And Claire, Claire could care less about him. Good.
I like Claire's 'Bangers and Mash'. I skip the tomatoes but notice not even Randall get sick from eating them. After everyone has eaten their fill, Claire lets me finish what is left. I look up and all three of them are staring at me as I clean my plate with the last piece of bread, using it to mop all the juices up. I pop the last piece of bread in my mouth and sit back and look at Claire.
"That was delicious, Claire. You are an excellent cook and all without a fireplace. Magic indeed. A healer and a cook. Perhaps a wee white witch as well?" I ask and raise my eyebrow at her. "Can you sew also?" I ask. It is best to ken as much about your wife before you marry her is what my Godfather Murtagh used to tell me.
Randall scoffs. "Where did you say you found this chap, Lambert?" Frank questions, nodding his head at Jamie. "On the road back from Fort Williams? Where exactly?"
"Well, just look at the time. Time for you to leave Frank. Time for me to go to bed. I have to work half a day tomorrow." Claire announces. "And Jamie needs his rest. Jamie and I cooked, Lamb, you get to do the dishes. If Frank wants to stay to help with that he can, but he is out the door after that. At least you don't have to worry about the leftovers." and she smiles and gets up from the table.
"Come with me Jamie, lets see if we can get you situated." and Claire turns and walks out the kitchen, through the living room and down the hall, grabbing her healers basket as she passes the table.
I go through the clothes that Johnny gave Uncle Lamb there is a pair of pajamas. Bottoms and top. I take the PJ's and Jamie, by the hand and lead him across the hall to the bathroom. I leave the door open. I find Jamie a new toothbrush and the tooth powder. He looks at them like he has never seen them before. I get mine out and show him how to use it. The look on his face is soooo cute. I then wet the new toothbrush and add the powder and hand it to him. He acts like he has never brushed his teeth before.
"Oh," I say. "You are right handed. Of course you can't brush your teeth." I sit him on the toilet and I proceed to brush them for him. He makes the cutest "God this tastes terrible face" I have ever seen but lets me finish before he spits. He must spit a hundred times. I give him a glass of water to rinse with. Now, the awkward part. Pajamas. I show him the pants. I explain that I will help him get them on and then he can take the kilt off. He nods. I kneel down and then look up to see if he is ready. My head is inches away from what I will say I think is a friendly salute. Maybe the man is interested after all. I am quite sure my face turned lipstick red. He places his hand on my shoulder and he manages one leg at a time to step into the bottoms. I get my feet under me in a crouch and then lift the bottoms as I stand up. The side of my face running up his right leg, and yes, I am definitely being saluted, and I pull the bottoms up under his kilt and let them rest on his hips. I am standing by this time and turn and look him in the eyes. There is a shadow over them, a darkness, maybe it was me seeing what I so want to see, that he wants me as much as I want him. It is just a flicker, and then it is gone. No kiss. I sigh, look down and back out the door. I look up into his face again. Nothing, I can read nothing.
I close the door behind me, so Jamie has privacy removing his kilt, and cross the hall to check that the second bed in Uncle Lambs room has clean sheets and a pillow. I place the rest of the clothes Johnny gave Jamie in the third drawer of the dresser. I set a blanket and clean towel and wash cloth on the dresser and a second pillow on the bed and sigh. I turn and look up. There is Jamie standing in the doorway with his kilt in his hands. I reach out and take it from him.
"I will take your clothes to be cleaned and pressed tomorrow. Johnny has given you some clothes to wear in the interim. Third drawer," and I point to the chest. "If you need anything in the night, I am the door at the end of the hall. Would you like something for the pain, before I go to sleep?" I ask.
I look up into his face and see a tear run down his face. I reach up, place my hand on his cheek and wipe it away with my thumb.
Do you want to talk?" I ask softly. "I'm a pretty good listener."
He shakes his head 'No'.
"Are you sure?" I ask in a whisper and raise an eyebrow.
He sits on the bed, with his head lowered.
I set the kilt on bed. I put my index finger under his chin and lift his face to look into mine. Such sadness I see in his face. His heart is breaking and he is letting me see it. I step forward and cradle his head in my bosom and I hear him quietly start to cry. For several minutes I hold him this way. Running my fingers through his hair. No words are spoken. No words are needed. When Jamie is spent, he pulls his head away and looks up into my face and says "Thank you."
"No need." I reply. "Anytime you need to talk..." and I lean over and pick up the kilt and move toward the door. Just before I leave I turn to Jamie and say, "I am here for you. To help you To heal your wounds. All of them. When I am near, do not be afraid. I will keep you safe."
"And when you are not near? What then?" He asks tentatively.
"Then remember, that you are a Scot in Inverness, a small city full of uniqueness and diversity. You are not British, in a town full of them but Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, who gives a damn. Live life I say, go out and have some fun. When you get hurt, because I think you will get into a few bar fights along the way, you know where I live and where I work. Find me and I will tend your scratches." and I leave to change for bed.