Samhain PartI
Jamie and Murtagh are still in deep discussion as we walk home from the tavern. The rain has stopped leaving the air clean and fresh, like a new beginning, and I take deep breathes to clear my head and my heart. There is a crispness to the wind and I pull my coat around me tightly. Jamie, deep in conversation with his godfather, still manages to notice and gathers me under his arm, pulling me against him as we walk. I inhale deeply the scent of this man; the musk his body creates that allows me to recognize him anywhere, even with my eyes closed. Breathe him in while you still can I tell myself.
"Are ya warm enough Sassenach? Is everythi'n alright?" He inquires as he looks down at my face that I have nestled into his chest as we walk. His blue eyes bore into my soul in search for the answer he already knows because it lies in his as well. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. No! Everything is not all bloody right! I don't want you to go is what I want to scream at him. I know we are meant to be together! Christ, you are mine, I am yours, I want to shout at him. I will not share you with anyone. But no, he has to be the bloody King of Men. But I can not utter the words out loud; I can not demand that of him, not now, not ever. He must make the choice, I can not change his destiny for him. It is for him alone to do. I am truly convinced that behind every great man there is a strong, stoic woman. She must be indestructible in order to release her man, allowing him the freedom he needs to perform the tasks of his calling and to sanction his travels, where ever his destiny will take him, leaving his loved ones behind. She must love, protect, care for him and above all else, put her own needs aside in order to help him achieve that which is the very reason he was created. Please, let me be such a woman, strong enough not to fall down on my knees, grab his legs and beg him not to go, to stay with me and his child I know I carry within me.
Yes, I am late. Only four days but I am never, not even one day, late.
I nod in affirmation to his question. I had managed not to cry through lunch, at least no tears that I let Jamie see. Murtagh had raised an eyebrow at me at one point but I just smiled back, took another sip of my whiskey, leaned back against Jamie and closed my eyes again. Now, I dare not speak, least my voice waivers, betraying my breaking heart.
We cross the street to walk through the park. We are almost back to the flat. I stop and turn to Jamie and Murtagh. "You two can stay here in the park and talk, if you like. It's such a beautiful day. I need to run by the butcher to pick up something for dinner. No need for you two to tag along. Pretty boring stuff, really. Any requests? I will be back at the flat in less than two hours."
"Would ye make Bangers and Mash one last time for me, Sassenach? Ye ken its my favorite," Jamie requests with his ever endearing half-smile on his face. "I'll even eat ye poisonous tomatoes..." He stops mid-sentence when he realizes what he has said.
My glass face must give me away. I almost burst into tears right there in the park. I bite my lip to keep from crying. His last meal. Well, his last supper with me...anyway. I close my eyes, gather my courage and open them again. I see the sadness in his eyes. He knows his words sting but it's that this will all end tomorrow morning is what brings tears to my eyes. I make a face by crossing my eyes and sticking out my tongue, in a vain attempt to make him laugh, as I wipe the escaping tear away with my hand. I crack a smile as I seek to convey that I'm alright. I can see by the look on his face that I am failing miserably and so I wave him off.
"I'm fine, Jamie. Really. Bangers and Mash it is then," I say quickly, brushing my hand lightly down his arm, turn on my heels and walk away as fast as my legs will carry me without breaking into a run.
"Claire" I hear him call out just the once. I keep walking. I dare not look back.
I unlock the door and enter the flat. "Hello the flat" I call out loudly. "Is anyone here? Lamb?" There is no reply. I reach to place my purse, hat and gloves on the table by the door. I miss and they fall to the floor. I give up, as the tears start to well up in my eyes. I drop my coat on top to complete the pile and run to my bedroom. I lean against the bedroom door, to close it, and that is as far as I get before I sink to the floor and the tears begin to fall. I feel my chest tighten, wracked with pain as I try to suck in air but can't. I have no breath. I can make no noise as the soundless sobs leave my shaking body. I fall over onto my side, curl into a ball and just let go of my checked emotions while my heart shatters into a thousand pieces. I realize just how quickly this man has entwined himself into my very existence. That he has become the very fiber of my being. He is my core. He is my hearts blood. I am quite sure I will die without him; maybe not physically but I can already feel my soul begin to wither and die knowing tomorrow morning may be the last time I ever see him. And just like that, just as suddenly as my sobs began, they end. The solution is right there in front of my face. It is so very obvious. Why had I not seen it before? I know what I must do.
I get up, dry my face and straighten my skirt and blouse. I check my makeup in the hall mirror, retrieve my belongings from the floor and exit the flat. An hour and a half later I am back. I drop the dinner packages in the kitchen and hang my coat up in the hall closet. I lay my hat and gloves on the hall table and then take the garment bag, the rest of my parcels and my purse to my room and lay them on the bed. I smile. I have a plan and it is pure genius.
I practically skip back to the kitchen to begin supper. I stop and switch the radio on and let The Andrew Sisters Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy engulf the flat as I sing and dance along with the song.
Lamb arrives home first. I am at the kitchen sink, peeling potatoes. 5 pounds of them. Jamie can eat 3 pounds by himself. I can only imagine what Murtagh can do. Lamb, lowers the volume on the radio and comes up beside me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. My head drops and a sob escapes as I realize the ramifications of my plan.
"Claire," he begins. "What can I do to help? Is there anything I can do that would make a difference?"
I turn and look into the face of the man that has been a father to me when, at the age of 5, I was left completely alone when my parents died. He is responsible for the the strong, independent woman I have become. There has never been a subject I could not talk to him about; even the questions concerning my female cycle had never gone unexplained in my formative years. I have always sought his council with every major decision I have ever made...until now. Since Jamie entered my life 5 days ago. Jamie has replaced Lamb in my heart and as my confidant; he completes me. Lamb's face tells me he understands; that he almost expected it and that he is ready to let me go.
I sigh. One of those heavy sighs, filled with relief.
"Jamie is a good man, Claire. He is destined for greatness my friend tells me. Jamie's life has meaning. A greater purpose. He will need you. He will only achieve greatness with you by his side. . I think that is why he is here. I was meant to find him and bring him to you. Claire, my dear, I could not part with you for a lesser man," Lambert tells me and smiles weakly. I fall into his embrace.
"I will be alright Lamb. Do not worry for me. I promise I will be alright." and I kiss my uncle on the cheek.
"Yes, Madonna. You are quite right. Things are correcting. Everything is almost as it should be. There have been a few bumps in the road but the pieces are falling into place. It will be easier to keep you both safe now," a voice I recognize states from the living room.
I turn and see a very short man, with a face like a frog, standing in front of a fire in the living room fireplace, warming his backside. Which, come to think of it, I don't remember a fire being lit when I came into the kitchen. I shake the thought from my head. I know this man. From my childhood. A friend of my uncles. A Frenchman, I think. "Master Raymond?" I inquire.
"Oui, Madonna. Très bien. It is nice that you remember me. It has been a vera long time. You were just a petite fille the last time I saw you." Master Raymond said with a grin.
"Of course. I should have known when Lamb said an old friend was in town." and I turned, looked at Lamb and smiled. "Last time, I think I was 8 or 9, in Egypt I believe. How are you? It is lovely to see you. May I offer you a glass of wine? I remember you did not care for ale or whiskey."
Master Raymond laughed. "C'est vrai, it was Egypt. You were 8 and Oui, I would love a glass of wine, but sadly, I have no time. I can not stay. Your uncle and I must leave. It is, after all, the eve of Samhain and there is much work for us to do. Come mon amie, we must be off. Au Revoir Madonna. We will see each other again vera soon, I think."
"Oh, Claire, tell Jamie his godfather is welcome to sleep in my room." Uncle Lamb says. "I won't be back again tonight" and he winks before he turns to leave.
And just like that Uncle Lamb and Master Raymond are gone. Out the door and by the time I make it to the window, they are exiting the building. Before I pull myself away I see Jamie and Murtagh coming out of the park. I best get the potatoes on to boil or supper will be late.
I hear the flat door open and then close. "Jamie?" I call out. "Is that you and Murtagh?"
"No." Frank says from the entrance to the kitchen. "Just me. I met your uncle and Master Raymond downstairs as they were leaving. Lambert said to come right in, that you were expecting me. Why do they call him Master Raymond, I wonder. What, exactly is he a master of?"
I turn and smile. "You'll stay for supper, I expect."
"I will, if you're asking. This does not count as the dinner you owe me for touring Scotland with Your Rather Large, Red-headed, Sword Swinging Boyfriend, just so we're clear..." and he laughs at his own quick wit.
"Ha Ha" I said and turn back to finish peeling the potatoes. "Very funny."
Who's Murtagh? Jamie's made a friend, has he?" Frank inquires as he leans back against the couch. "Hope this one doesn't come with his own sword," and again he laughs at his own joke.
I hear the door open and listen as Jamie and Murtagh enter the flat, still conversing in Gadhlig. The next thing I hear is Murtagh cry "Randall!" and Frank scream like a small child. Almost before I can even put the potato down and turn, Frank has run into the kitchen, rounded the table, grabbed me from behind and swung me around so that I am facing a very angry faced Murtagh with his sword drawn, approaching with caution. Brave little Frank is using me as a human shield. Nice.
"Murtagh, Stad." Jamie cries, runing into the kitchen. "Chan eil e Black Jack. Cuiribh air falbh mus do chlaidheamh Sorcha gam leòn." It's not Black Jack. Please put your sword away before Claire gets hurt.
My warrior eases himself around the kitchen table and steps in front of me, coming between myself and Murtagh's very real, very pointy sword. "I ken he looks like Randall. But remember the time is wrong, a charaid. This is Frank. Frank Randall. Aye, he's a Randall, I ken, but no Black Jack. A descendant. He's the one that has told me about Colluden and such. The historian I was explain'in to ye."
And I begin to breath again as I peek around Jamie and watched Murtagh start to lower his sword.
"Tha fios agan nach eil e Black Jack, Murtagh. Faic mara tha e 'falach air cùl Sorcha. Nach eil e saighdears." Jamie said in a soothing voice. You know he is not Black Jack, Murtagh. Look how he hides behind Claire. He is no soldier.
"Ye Frank Randall no Jonathan Wolverton Randall?" Murtagh asks raising his sword again and pointing it at Frank.
"Yes" Frank and I say in unison. I nod my head several times for added emphasis.
"Give me the sword, a bhalaich" and Jamie holds out his hand. Murtagh hands it to him hilt first.
"The dirk and sgian dhu as well" Jamie adds wiggling his outstretched hand's fingers and Murtagh removes them and hands them over also, with a fair amount of reluctance. Jamie sets them down on the table. He holds up a finger, looks back at his godfather and says "do'na touch these, ye hear me?"
Murtagh nods and gently kicks the table leg in frustration.
"Jesus," Franks utters with a heavy sigh of relief. "How many weapons does one man need to carry? I am surprised he does not have a loaded pistol."
Jamie turns around and glares at Frank. He then takes his index finger and taps one of Franks hands that has my shoulders in a death grip. "Let go of her. Now." Jamie is not asking.
I hear Frank suck in air and both hands almost instantly release me. Jamie immediately places his hands where Franks have been and pulls me into his chest. My arms automatically wrap themselves around his waist and I feel his broad hands glide up and down my back rubbing every vertebrae. Jamie rests his chin on the top of my head and asks, "Are you alright, Mo Neighan Donn?"
I nod my head and, with my ear pressed to his chest, listen to the sound of Jamie's beating heart. His strong steady rhythm calms my own frantic one.
"You took shelter behind Claire, Frank." Jamie states. I can only imagine the dark blue stare that accompanies this truth. I would not like to be on the receiving end of such a look. "Tssst" as Jamie clicks his tongue. "'twas a cowardly th'in te do, Frank."
Sufficiently chastised, Frank walks out of the kitchen leaving Jamie with me. Jamie pulls me away from his chest and with a finger under my chin, he raises my face so that our eyes meet. There is an unsettling calmness in his gaze.
"I am sorry, Sassenach. Truly. I did not mean to hurt ye with my words, before, in the park."
"I know Jamie. I'm sorry I was so sensitive. I don't know what has gotten into me lately. I seem to be so emotional; totally happy one minute and then crying the next. I know you did not mean it the way it was said."
"Forgiven?"
"Forgiven."
"May I kiss ye?"
"Yes, please do." The kiss makes my toes curl. I wish it would never end. And we cling to each other when it is over.
Supper, finally prepared and ready to serve. The table conversation is mostly Frank re-explaining what he knows about Colluden to Murtagh, with Jamie jumping in periodically, adding a thought here and there. I don't think I said anything. I just listen and watch myself push my food around on my plate.
"You're no eat'n, Claire." Jamie finally says as he takes my hand. "Yer wicked tomatoes churn'n in your stomach?" he asks with a small laugh and nudges me with his elbow.
"No" I say looking up and smiling at his little joke. "I'm not really very hungry. We had that big lunch today," I remind him as I look up. "Would you like to finish it?"
"Weel, if ye're sure ye no going to want it later..." He looks at me, raising eyebrow in question.
"It's all yours," and I push my plate in his direction. He picks it up, places it on top of his all ready cleaned plate and before I can say Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Jamie has all but licked my plate clean as well.
"Did ye by chance make a pie for dessert? Ye ken I really like pie. The tart apple one, like before?" Jamie inquires as he licks the remains of the 5 pounds of mashed potatoes from the serving spoon.
"I did not have to," I reply. "the butcher's daughter, the very fair, very friendly Miss Rebecca seems to be a bit of a mind reader, Jamie. She has made you apple tarts. There are 4 in the pink box tied up with string over there on the counter" and I wave my hand in the general direction. "She says they are all for you, none are for me. Bit of a bitch, I think. Oh and she sent some clotted cream to go with them. It's in a jar in the fridge." I announce, with just a smidge of jealously added to my tone, as I shove my chair back and take some dishes to the sink. As I turn and leave the kitchen, I pause at the sofa, turn and add, "your dear Miss Rebecca said that you are to personally return the cream container when you are finished." I walk to my bedroom and soundly close the door.
"It is agreed then that we'll need to get up early," Frank offers in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I stopped by the Maise and spoke to Mrs. Graham and we know they dance to the rising sun. Jamie, you and Murtagh will need to be there just after for the best possible results," Frank continues. "You must go through with only the things you brought with you. You can not risk going through with anything made in the 20th century. If you are discovered with any such items, you might have great difficulty explaining them. It's not worth the risk."
Both Jamie and Murtagh nod in agreement.
"If we had thought to plan better, we could have gathered some 18th century items that could be traded for horses and food for when you first arrive," Frank says with irritation in his voice. "You are going back to an area thick with British soldiers and Jamie still has a price on his head. Horses could help you get away much more expeditiously. Remember about Cocknammon Rock as well. Avoid it at all costs."
"Aye, British Ambushes." Jamie repeats.
"The lad's size and hair make him hard to miss, let alone not be recognized." Murtagh adds. "We need to avoid the British Soldiers."
"It might be best to hide during the day and travel at night at least until you secure horses," Frank suggests.
Jamie turns red and runs his hands over his hair. "I had a bonnet when I was riding with my uncle but I must have lost it in the stramach. I did no have it when I arrived here.
"Where did the lass get to? Murtagh asks as he looks around the kitchen.
"I'm right here,'" I call out from the living room. All three look up and stare in disbelief. I am standing in front of the couch in my 18th century costume dress. "Completely authentic my friend assures me," as my hands smooth the bodice. "He volunteers at the local theatre house and says they purchased several of the costumes from the last period drama that was filmed locally. I have a ton of clothes on here: 1 shift, a set of stays, 2 petticoats, a bum roll, a wool skirt and bodice complete with stomacher. I have period hose, that tie, no garters, and boots," and I lifted up my skirts to show them. "I even have a cape" and I hold it up for them to see.
Jamie is the first to find his voice. "Claire! What are ye about, woman?".
Frank rolls his eyes and shares "I should have know better. I should have seen this coming a mile away."
I smile at Jamie and say, "I'm coming with you, of course. Silly."
Murtagh smiles, rubs his chin and turns to watch Jamie's reaction to this statement.
"No, no ye not Claire" Jamie says shaking his head madly back and forth. "Ye can'na do that." His eyes wide in horror with the idea of it. "Ye'll do no such th'in."
The look on Jamie's face as he speaks wipes the smile right off my face. My face falls from one of intense joy to hostility in the blink of an eye. "I can and I will," I retaliate. "You'll need me." I walk forward and set a small wooden box with a leather handle on the table. "I have made a small medical kit, of things I will need but won't be available until my time," and I open the lid.
"Those are all very obviously modern items, Claire" Frank states as he removes the scalpel, syringe and bottle of mercurochrome. "All of these are clearly not from the 18th century Claire. You're crazy to try and take them. What if someone sees them and questions you concerning them?
"I thought of that Frank. First I will take them out of there present packaging. I will simply explain that in my travels, I have come across these items in various spots around the world and found them to be quite useful." I take the syringe back and roll it back in the leather shammy and tie it securely.
"No. No Claire, I ken what this is about and I will no let you do this." Jamie declares softly. "It is too dangerous. You have no idea what you will be walking into. It is dangerous enough for Murtagh and myself to go back. For a women, and ye do'na act like any woman I have ever ken, it would be worse, more dangerous. And what would become of ye if I were to die at Colluden? Who would protect ye then? And I definitely can'na guarantee ye could get back here te ye time if ye should want or need to return." His face is full of worry.
"There is no guarantee you can even go through the stones with us, lass." Murtagh added.
To my surprise, Jamie is not angry with me. He seems almost proud that I would want to do this, for him. In order to be with him but I can see by his stance, he will tie me to a tree before he will let me anywhere near those Stones.
"Oh, so it's alright for you to risk it, but not me? Is that it?" I growl at him. "What if I don't want to be here without you? That I would rather be in the 1700's with you than in the present without you? I just want to be with you, is that so wrong?"
Frank and Murtagh both turn to look at Jamie to see his response.
"Claire, ye ken ye can'na go. Mo Neighan Donn, you would be lost without your hot baths, your ice cubes, your flameless candles and your horseless carriages. Ye do not ken how to cook over a fire. Ye have never even slept on the cold ground a day in your life or gone without food because there was noth'n to catch or te eat," Jamie said as he approaches me. "Ye can'na even ride a horse. I love ye for want'n to come. For think'n ye could make a go of it, for me. But I can'na let ye come mo chridhe." He takes me in his arms and pressed his forehead to mine. "God, I love ye all the more for want'n te come. For try'n so hard te make it so.
I kiss his nose and push my way out of his embrace. "Oh, I'm coming with you. Mark my words James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. I have a solution for your hair too. I can dye it. I have brown hair color from the beauty shop and she told me how to apply it to your hair Jamie. And, unlike any of you, I thought to go a local numismatist and purchase some old coins. I don't have a lot but they are authentic though a little worse for wear being 200 years old now but legal tender none the less. I also have a broach of my mothers that I have pried the gems out of..."
"Sassenach, No and that's all there is to say on the matter. Ye can'na come with us." Jamie folded his arms across his chest, daring me to disobey him.
"I have lived rough before, Jamie, with my uncle. I know how to build, light and cook over a fire. I've made plenty of meals for Lamb over a open fire when we went on site digs in Egypt, Peru, Mexico and even Greece. I have lived for months in tents, sure we had cots but I can learn to sleep on the ground. I've taken many a cold bath in a river, even the Nile with it's crocodiles. And I have ridden horses as well as donkeys, camels, a llama and an elephant so don't you think for one minute you can tell me I am weak and soft, my fine, red-headed friend. I am going and that's that." I fold my arms across my chest, daring Jamie to try and make me stay.
"'tis like watch'n ye mam and da discuss one of the bairns punishment all over again," Mutagh interjects. "Only they could finally agree at the end of an argument. And while nodding his head he adds, "It just might work, lad, her idea of com'n, it just might be a good th'in."
Jamie just glares at Murtagh. Murtagh lowers his eyes to the ground knowing silence is his the best course of action, for now. Jamie was not open to suggestions, so for the time being, he will be quiet. The lass will wear him down, of that he is sure.
"Out of my way," Claire commands in her best Matrons voice. "Get out of the kitchen" she barks and shoves up her sleeves. "I need to clean the dishes and prepare some food for us to take along with us. I think we should all try and get a few hours sleep as well. We will have a long couple of days ahead of us once we go through the stones. You said it was several days ride from the stones to Lallybroch, right?" I ask Murtagh, totally ignoring Jamie.
"There is no We Claire, only Us" I say as I point to Murtagh and myself, in an effort to try one last time to have her see things my way. Her head whips around to look at me. Her usually calm, caring, golden whiskey eyes have turned a dark amber, almost a dense brown, undeniably an expression of her anger. I have never seen her eyes that color before and would die happy if I never saw that color again. I do not much care for the fact that she is this angry at me. Although in hindsight, I really can not have expected any less from my wee grommel. I can na help but smile at the thought that she came up with this plan all on her own, all in an effort to remain with me. It is almost a sense of pride that I feel, that this woman would give up all she has to stand at my side, knowing that Colluden is my fate. I do not want, however, these last several hours with Claire to be an argument we would spend a lifetime regretting after I have gone. I need to fix this.
The next thing I ken my face feels the sting of a verra sharp slap that is going to leave a verra serious hand print on my cheek, for days.
"How dare you smile. How dare you think this is funny, James Fraser. I am not laughing." She growls as her eyes, still almost brown in color, now narrow into slits. I instinctively take a step backwards, out of arms reach.
From the corner of my eye I watch as Murtagh and Frank exchange awkward glances.
I collect the open bottle of whiskey from the counter and take down Claire's tea cup and saucer. I pour her a hefty dram and push the saucer across the counter toward Claire and wait for her to calm down enough to talk to me. I settle myself against the counter and watch her. I wait while she slams dishes, splashes water and mutters out loud to herself. She washes and rinses the supper dishes, setting them to dry on the counter. I watch while she wipes the stove, table and counters down. I observe her as she dries the dishes and puts them away. She still will not look at me but with each new task, she takes a sip from her cup. She mutters something more under her breath. I sigh and adjust my position as she then proceeds to make sandwiches for Murtagh and I to take with us. Roast beef and mustard on nice, hard rolls. Ham and cheese on bread, again with mustard. Both favorites of mine. She makes a dozen sandwiches and wraps them in wax paper, then the paper from the butcher and ties it all up nicely with string. She sets them on the kitchen table. She takes half a dozen apples from the fruit bowl and sets them beside the sandwiches. Claire then started to make two peanut butter and honey sandwiches...they are Claire's personal favorite...
I roll my eyes and slide down the counter until I am close enough that I can reach out and touch her, if I were brave enough to try. I turn to look at her and whisper, "Sassenach."
Her busy hands stop. She sets the knife she is using to spread the peanut butter, down, resting her still hands on the counter, but she will not look at me.
I reach out and tuck a stray curl behind her ear so I can see her face and not allow her to hide behind her hair. "Sassenach," I whisper again.
She turns and looks at me. Her eyes are still dark amber. Still angry then. I know she is not ready to talk. "Would ye maybe want a wee bit of air. We could take a stroll in the park across the street if ye'd like?"
And I place my hand over hers.
Murtagh waves his hand at the bottle and I move to pass it and two cups to him and motion my head for him to retreat back to the living room. Murtagh takes the bottle and cups and walks away.
I turn just in time to see Claire turn the corner to walk down the hall. "Claire, wait" and I follow.
She opens the door to her bedroom, walks inside and turns to face me. She looks me with her eyes still filled with so much hurt and anger, and with a flick of her wrist, slams the door closed.
I stop. What am I suppose to do now?