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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

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Highland Destiny Chapter 20 ~Lallybroch Part 2~

Jenny proved to be an enigma and a revelation to Claire, and she couldn't help but feel amused at how one tiny person could assert herself with the aplomb of an army commander to two huge strapping men. Tough love, Jenny had called it, and she had revealed, with conviction in her voice, that someone had to be around to keep everyone in line. Abrasive and gentle at the same time, Jenny was quick to reprimand but was always generous with her praises where it was due. Although temperamental, which Claire put down to pregnancy hormones playing havoc, Jenny was fierce in her love and loyalty to the people she cared for. Claire quickly surmised that this tiny effervescent bundle of vivacity was the heart and soul of the family.

They had just finished eating their early dinner of roast lamb and "neeps and tatties," and the kids were already in bed, tired from all the excitement at seeing their uncle and meeting their new auntie. As an extra treat, Jenny had added a last-minute batch of Yorkshire pudding as her way to welcome Claire to the family. "Aye, Yorkshire pudding... that's very English! I'm quite sure Claire would love it," Jenny suggested earlier to herself as she had bustled about the kitchen, banging pots and pans.

"Aye...we must have a party... that is a braw idea! Aunt Jocasta is coming from the States, we have a village festival just around the corner, we have yer wedding to celebrate and the weather...oh goodness, the forecast is braw for the rest of the week ..." Jenny announced as she stood up to clear the dishes, clapping her hands.

"Jenny!" Ian, Claire and Jaime simultaneously interrupted the hyper petite woman's babble, as they watched her collect the plates.

"What? It's a perfect idea! Don't ye think so?" Jenny's face was a picture of disbelief, looking at all three of them as if they've lost their mind.

"Jenny sweetheart, nae parties please. I ken ye like to cook and entertain, but Claire has been through a lot, and the last thing we need is attracting the attention of the paparazzi. Ye ken what it is like...ye said so yersel'." Ian firmly but gently reminded his stubborn wife, looking at the worried faces of Jamie and Claire, but he knew already he was fighting a losing battle unless, of course, the newlyweds can change Jenny's mind.

"Rubbish! The village folk will take care of the paparazzi if we tell them in advance of our plans. They love Jamie, and they will make sure everything is hush-hush. He's like their laird around here, ye ken," Jenny retorted defensively to her husband. Then turning to Claire, she cajoled sweetly and angelically. "Claire, please say aye. I promise ye, I'll take care of everything, and I will make sure by hook or by crook that nothing and naebody will spoil this day. I dinna ken what else to give ye for yer wedding present, but let this be my gift to ye."

By hook or by crook, indeed! Jamie leaned back on his chair, hands rubbing his full stomach and grinning. He knew full well what his sister was like as he watched Claire's face go through different expressions, from worried to appalled before settling to an uncertain look. He found it adorable how she bit her lower lip when she concentrated on something, her brows puckering in her indecisiveness. Then Claire looked at him, bright golden eyes, willing him to say something or anything. But Jamie thought better of it and shrugged instead. Let this be the battle of the womenfolk!

Claire cleared her throat, trying to summon excuses in her head so she could put off Jenny, but looking at her sister-in-law's eager and excited face, she knew she didn't have the heart to deny her. Well, where is the harm in having a party, after all, she is now surrounded by her new family. "Well then..." she breathed deeply, "...let's have this party, BUT, under one condition - we'll just invite very close friends and family." And then she looked at Jamie, sternly. "And no shinty and no rugby!"

Jenny squealed, her face a picture of excitement and Claire couldn't help but feel happy for her sister-in-law's gaiety. Even the men were relieved that the matter was resolved quickly, their faces puffing out breaths of relief. "Oh, that's wonderful, Claire! We'll do it this coming weekend, and ye can give me the list who ye want to invite. It will be a pretty garden party, and that's a promise! And before the day of the event, we'll go shopping for clothes and maybe pamper ourselves. Now isn't that grand?"

Jamie's hand reached out to Claire. "Are ye sure Sassenach, ye alright with the party. Ye ken ye dinna have to..."

Claire nodded, smiling, but stopped when she noticed a stunned Jenny with mouth wide open, staring at her engagement ring. Thinking Jamie hadn't told Jenny about the ring, she placated her new sister-in-law. "Jenny, I know this is your mother's ring, and it must be an heirloom. Would you like to have it back? Well, if I could take it off, that is..." Claire had started to wriggle the ring unconsciously and was bewildered when it came off with just a gentle pull, after having tried everything in the last few days to remove it. She placed it on the palm of her hand to show the ring to Jamie, who, too, was astonished that it finally came off. They had both joked that it would remain on her finger for the rest of her life unless someone decided to chop it off from her.

Jenny made a sign of the cross. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Claire! Ye can wear the faerie ring! Look at that Ian...I've told ye about this ring, aye? Naebody could wear it without breaking into a rash. Ma was only able to wear it when she was pregnant with Jamie, and after that, she couldna. Aye, she told me this story. That is why she gave the ring to Jamie because none of the Mackenzie women can wear it...or any other women in the family, near or wide."

Ian didn't dare say anything even if he never believed the faerie story. Instead, he reached out to squeeze Jenny's hand.

"Christ, Jenny! Faerie ring?? I thought ye would have outgrown that story!" Jamie objected impatiently, rolling his eyes. "Claire, it's just a highland myth. It's all hogwash!"

Claire gave Jamie a stern look, before nodding to Jenny to continue.

Jenny ignored her brother, determined to tell the story. "Weel, Mrs Graham...ye ken Mrs Graham aye, the housekeeper of Reverend Wakefield? She told Ma that the ring is passed on from one lifetime to another and it always belonged to the same soul." She began, nodding excitedly at all three of them. "Apparently, back in the olden days, there were these star-crossed lovers, a Highland warrior and his Lady. The story goes, there were always these outside forces determined to keep the couple apart, so they went to Simon Fraser of Lovat's seer called Maisri to ask her counsel. The seer, after going into a trance to see their future, she found out their love was doomed for that life, so she gave them this amber stone. And the seer told them if they couldn't be together in that lifetime, they will find each other again in another through this gem. And Mrs Graham said, there is a hex on this ring protected by the faeries of the standing stones, and she said only the soul of the Highland Warrior's Lady can wear the ring. The ring should bring the souls of the lovers back together by the power of the spell cast upon it." Jenny paused to breathe before giving Claire a wide-eyed look as something dawned in her mind. "Oh my God, Claire, ye must be the soul of the Highland Warrior's Lady and ye Jamie must be..." Jenny's hands flew to her mouth, her sapphire blue eyes about to bulge out of their sockets.

Jamie and Ian burst into a loud guffaw much to Jenny's annoyance. Both men knew she had always believed in the old folks' stories of the Highlands, of faeries and superstitious beliefs that had been passed down from generation to generation.

"Oh, Jenny, that story is so adorable. A charming bedtime story for the kids, definitely" Claire giggled nervously, feeling an odd shiver run down her spine, the ring suddenly becoming warm in her hand.

"Aye laugh at me ye goons. Here watch this." Jenny grabbed the ring from Claire's hand and placed it on her right-hand ring finger. And sure enough, within seconds, the pale skin at the back of her hand started to turn red. "See...what did I tell ye? Look at that!" Jenny then returned the ring to Claire, and her skin colour returned to normal.

Jenny, with hands, on her hips, eyed them irritatedly, both eyebrows raised. "Weel, what ye say now, huh?"

Nobody said anything but replied only with a shrug, unsure what to make of Jenny's story.

..........

The days that lead to what Jenny called, ceilidh , cautious not to call it a wedding party in case the word got out in public, was a flurry of activities in Fraser's household. Jamie had insisted on hiring and covering the cost of a catering company and local musicians as well as other expenses, so as not to burden his sister. There were enough things to organise as it was, such as invitations, preparing the outside area, the house and guest rooms, making reservations at local inns and hotels for their guests and even a bar had been set up, of course, compliments of Frisealach.

Claire had given up, eventually, in offering her help with the preparations, if not a futile attempt but more to appease her sister-in-law who seemed to be in her element orchestrating the event. Instead, she spent most of her days with Jamie as he showed her around his childhood home and the surrounding area, and going on day trips that either involved picnics, fishing, exploring the woods or shopping in Edinburgh. The people from the neighbourhood who have known Jamie all his life came to visit, bearing gifts of homemade fares from their farm such as smoked or cured meats, haggis, jars upon jars of assorted pickles, elderberry cordials and sourdough bread. It was all very idyllic, and Claire cherished the laid-backness and uncomplicated way of life. And even Jamie seemed more relaxed and content to be surrounded by all things and people that he grew up with.

Evenings were always special as the whole family gathered around the massive family room, the men drinking whisky, the women herbal teas and the children playing with their toys until it was ready for bed. And once everyone had retired for the night, Jamie and Claire would make slow passionate love, eventually falling asleep in each other's arms content that everything is right with the world.

Two days before the event, the guests started arriving and among them were Claire's friends from Inverness; Joe and his girlfriend Gail, Geillis, and Murtagh and a few of the men from work. Even Stephen, and Phil, who cancelled his wedding to Mary MacNab made it to the guest list, upon the insistence of Jamie that there were no hard feelings between him and her long-time friends. Most were staying at nearby inns and hotel that Jenny booked and some at the manor's guest rooms.

Much to the secret delight of Murtagh, he spied the arrival of Jamie and Jenny's widowed aunt Jocasta who arrived from the States with her niece. She was the sister of Jamie and Jenny's late mother, Ellen. He thought Jocasta looked so much like the sibling's mother, who he had been infatuated with for most of his younger years. Seeing Jocasta reminded him of their youth, banter and happier times and he had in mind to reacquaint himself with the handsome woman, and maybe ask her for a dance during the party.

Claire had tried the last few days to get in touch with her uncle Lamb as she had wanted so much for him to be part of this special family event, but her efforts had proven to be unsuccessful. So she was surprised when her uncle turned up with Mother Hildegarde, Jaime feeling proud he was able to pull off the surprise for his wife. Unbeknownst to her, Jamie was able to track down her uncle through Mother Hildegarde of St. Agnes, who had been a family friend to Claire and Quintin Lambert for years. Claire couldn't be happier now that she had one of the most important men in her life to share their joy.

True to her words, Jenny arranged a day of shopping and pampering for the ladies who wished to come along and most especially for her sister-in-law. Although not alien to this guilty pleasure and recreational past-time, Claire was not used to spending so much money on herself for a mere indulgement all in one day. Nevertheless, she indulged and splurged and even treated the ladies to an afternoon tea of scones, cakes and miniature sandwiches during a break from their spree in Edinburgh.

When they finally got home, Claire was surprised at the progress that was made to transform Lallybroch for the ceilidh. There were people from the catering company, family, friends and even neighbours littered everywhere, each busy with the preparation for the following day's party. Still, it didn't stop Jenny from barking orders after seeing with very critical eyes things that were not to her satisfaction.

Jamie, upon seeing his wife, abandoned what he was doing at the makeshift bar he was working on and rushed to her. Burying his face into Claire's neck, he lifted her for a bone-crunching hug, unaware of the smiles and stares of family and friends. They had never seen Jamie so enamoured and affectionate towards another woman before, that some couldn't help but let out a dreamy sigh.

"Jamie! People are watching!" she whined in a muffled voice as his mouth swooped down for a ravenous kiss.

"I dinna care, Sassenach," he muttered under his breath, one hand cheekily reaching down to squeeze her bottom. "Christ, I've missed ye. Ye were gone for seven hours and thirty-five minutes." After a long, lingering kiss, Jamie pulled his head back a bit for some air, eyes fixated on Claire's swollen lips before dropping his gaze down to her multitude of shopping bags. "Ye have something for me, Sassenach?"

Claire nodded weakly, her head still foggy from the kiss. "I bought you some ties for work and a few shirts..." she said her voice trailing, as she saw Jamie eyeing a lingerie bag.

"Mmm, I see something verra pretty in one of the bags, Sassenach," Jamie observed, one eyebrow cocked, his eyes turning a darker hue. "Would ye care to oblige yer husband and try it on? I would be verra pleased if ye could do that."

"Oh, alright then," she hurriedly mumbled, heat creeping up to her face. Claire was slightly uncomfortable with all the stares and secret smiles that she just wanted to go in the house.

Jamie quickly took Claire's shopping bags from her hands and in one swift, effortless movement, he carried her to the cheers and wolf-whistles of the onlookers. "Wifey is pregnant ye see, and needs plenty of rest, aye? I have to make sure she gets one, her being a stubborn woman and all," he explained cockily before quickly heading towards the entrance door.

As they went in, Jamie and Claire snickered as Jenny shouted after them. "Oy, ye two, dinner is at 6 sharp, dinna be late! Or I'll throw a bucket of cold water over ye both!" Roars of laughter ensued, but Claire was beyond caring as Jamie kissed her while carrying her to their bedroom.

Murtagh incentivised by Jamie's amorous display, eyed Jocasta and approached her with a suggestive smile. "Weel pretty lass, fancy showing me what ye bought today?"

Jocasta surprised, but delighted with the unexpected attention, took Murtagh's offered arm and linked hers through his. "Aye, of course, I bought a few lingerie myself if ye fancy a peek."

.........

It was a beautiful day for a ceilidh. There was not a cloud in the sky and everybody, well almost everybody that they had wanted to be there for the special day, was there. The women looked elegant in their floral dresses, men, smart in their kilts and even the children scrubbed up very well. White heart-garlands hanged everywhere across the courtyard, white canopies set up for the buffet, the tables and chairs were all covered in white with umbrellas and in the far end was the dance floor and the musician's stage. The florists have done a fabulous job decorating the tables, buffet, bar and the inside of the house with assorted Highland wildflowers. It was all very rustic and charming.

Claire sat next to aunt Jocasta after refilling her glass with Prosecco with a splash of orange juice. They had been introduced a couple of days ago when the older woman arrived with her niece, and they got better acquainted during the ladies' spree in Edinburgh the day before. On Jocasta's other side sat Murtagh, preoccupied with dabbing the corner of her mouth, after feeding her a canape, just like a maid in waiting, to the amusement of Claire. Jocasta was half-blind and could only make out shadows and blurs in front of her and needed constant assistance. Murtagh thought to take over in assisting her, not so the niece could enjoy the party, but so he could have Jocasta to himself.

"Tis lovely weather for a party Claire. I think Jenny had timed it right. Mind ye, the lass has a knack for perfect timings and organising. She's so much like her mother," Jocasta smiled as she reached out to grasp Claire's hand, her face immobile as she looked straight ahead.

"Perfect timing indeed, and I'm so glad we have this gathering while you're here, Jocasta. You know that you're more than welcome to visit us in Inverness next time you visit Scotland," Claire offered, putting her hand over the older woman's.

"It's aunt, Claire...call me aunt. Ye're part of the family now. I wish Ellen could see how happy her lad is...she would have been proud of this moment. He's always been a good lad and a hard worker, but some of his life's choices have been questionable, and Jenny has done right by him. Such a strong lass she is. And as for ye dear, my darling Jamie has ye now...I can now live the rest of my days in peace." Jocasta tittered at her last statement before she opened her mouth for another delectable canape Murtagh offered.

Claire leaned over to kiss aunt Jocasta just as a shadow fell upon them. Looking up, she saw her friend Stephen, a handsome smile plastered on his face.

"Stephen!"

"May I have this dance with the beautiful bride?" he drawled in his thick Belfast lilt, blue eyes dancing mischievously.

Claire laughed, and when she looked at Jamie, she noticed he had his eyes on her. He nodded as she took Stephen's hand, after excusing herself to Murtagh and Jocasta. I didn't ask your permission you cocky bastard! She thought, smiling at her husband and silently scolding him with her eyes.

Stephen took Claire in his arms before expertly twirling her around. "Ach Claire, even if you're not in a bridal dress, you still make one gorgeous bride."

Claire was wearing a nude coloured, floor-length floral dress with sheer long sleeves and V- cut neck, which Jamie had complained was a plunging neckline. To her amusement, Jenny had rubbished his claims. She had swept up her hair loosely with a few loose ringlets hanging down and only wore the pieces of jewellery Jamie had given her. Her skin, normally pale, was slightly tanned from her mornings sitting in the sun, giving Claire a healthy glow and radiance.

"And you Stephen, you'll never change! You're still the biggest flirt ever," Claire chided jokingly. "So, when are you going to let a lass make an honest man out of you? You're a kind soul, you know, under all that bawdy and coarse exterior of yours. And a romantic too, if I may add!"

"Well, now you've asked, I think there is a lass...a very pretty lass indeed. But, I'm making her suffer a bit though before I answer her calls," Stephen confided with a hint of devilry in his eyes.

"Oooh! Someone, I know? Please tell, now I'm totally intrigued."

"Mmm...maybe...I saw her sat next to you during the rugby game..."

Claire's eyes darkened a bit, remembering the snobby girl dressed like a million dollars. "Please don't tell me it's Geneva Dunsany! That woman was horrid, and you deserve better! Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Stephen, what are you thinking?"

Stephen chuckled. "Aye horrid she was, but I taught her a lesson....or two. After I left your husband at the bar at Cullin's Hotel in Skye, I bumped into Geneva, and I thought to mesel' what a gorgeous lassie...aye, maybe a bit haughty. So I was flirty to her but not indecent when I said hello and tried to make conversation. But when I tried to slip my number into her purse, she went ballistic and started calling me all sorts of names. Let's see...what did she call me...in-bred was one. Mmmm shameless, indecorous, lewd and a stinking bastard. I thought the girl was ballsy and spirited. So...I carried her outside and took her near the hotel's fountain. And before I threw her in, I kissed her for the longest time. And oh lordy, lordy, the lassie can kiss. Anyway, now, she can't stop calling or texting me, but I'll let her stew a bit before I get back to her. That lass needs a bit of chastening."

"Oh, my God, Stephen, no you didn't! Please tell me you're joking!" Claire, already knew he wasn't, but she laughed nevertheless.

They laughed and twirled some more as Stephen recounted more of his antics during Phil's party. And in the next hour or two, she was passed on from one arm to another as the band played tirelessly from one Scottish jig to the next modern music. Claire thought she had never danced so much in her life and was glad she wasn't drinking any alcohol; otherwise, she would have toppled over from all the exertion, so she thought.

She had just finished dancing with her Uncle Lamb when Stephen decided to give the lead singer of the band a rest. He had with him his own guitar, as he took centre stage, strumming a few chords before speaking. "Right folks, I know this is a Highland party, but I would like to inject a bit of Irish flavour for you lot. This song is dedicated to the gorgeous bride and her groom. I used to play this for Claire and Quintin...unlce Lamb... many years ago when we were in the middle of nowhere and missing home."

Stephen paused until the cheers, whistles and clapping subsided.

"As you know, the Scots and Irish are Gaelic brothers and sisters in arms...so I hope you'll enjoy this wee Irish song...it's called I'll Tell Me Ma . So everybody, grab a partner and lets parttttyyyyy!" Stephen's voice boomed in the speakers as the first notes of his raucous Irish country folk began to play.

Nobody needed encouraging, and everyone gathered near the musician's stage. Everybody knew the lyrics, and everybody knew the tune and everybody grabbed a partner, adults and kids alike. They all formed a formation to do a fast Grand Chain dance with Jamie and Claire at the head, stomping, clapping and singing along with Stephen's song.

Each faced their partner, and as they passed each other, they gave their right hands. As they let go of their partner's hand, they took the left hand of the person that came towards them, and pass them by the left. They kept on moving right and left alternately until they stopped and facing their original partner once again. As they moved and danced, they all sang loud and enthusiastically and some, drunkenly.

🎶🎶🎶

I'll tell me ma, when I get home

The boys won't leave the girls alone they

Pulled me hair, they stolen me comb

But that's alright, till I go home

She is handsome, she is pretty

She is the belle of Belfast city

She is a-courting one, two, three

Pray, can you tell me who is she?

Albert Mooney says he loves her

All the boys are fightin' for her

Knock at the door, they're ringin' the bell

"Hello, my true love are you well?"

Out she comes white as snow

Rings on her fingers, bells on her toes

Ol' Jenny Murray says she'll die

If she doesn't get the fellow with the roving eye...

🎶🎶🎶

After the last chorus was sung, everyone cheered, whistled, roared, and clapped while some started shouting More! To Claire's horror and at the same time, amusement, Jamie ran up the stage. Jesus! Please, don't tell me he'll be singing! That bloody Scot...he can't even hold a tune!

"A round of applause for Stephen and the band!" Jamie's voice reverberated as he spoke on the microphone. After everyone had quietened down, he continued in a more subdued voice. "Before we continue with our dancing and singing, I would like to thank each and every one of ye, especially my sister and brother-in-law, on behalf of my lovely wife Claire, for making today memorable. We are truly blessed to have ye in our lives, and I hope we can have more days or evenings like this in the future. Most of all, I would like to thank my wife, Claire, for making my life complete and whole. Sassenach, ye are the most precious thing in my life, and because of ye, ye have made me a better person."

More cheers, whistles, and clapping followed.

"Now Sassenach, I know ye're about to die of embarrassment here as ye've told me often enough I have a terrible singing voice."

Everyone roared with laughter and Murtagh shouted, "Get him off the stage!"

"As I cannot sing to save my life, I would like to assure everyone that I took three hours singing lesson with Stephen earlier and practised with him this song. So without further ado, I would like to dedicate this song, to ye, my beautiful wife, Claire. It's from The Proclaimers, I'm Gonna Be 500 Miles. As I cannot sing as quick as our dear friend Stephen, I will sing the slower version of this song."

Claire's eyes started to well up as Stephen took his place on stage with his guitar behind Jamie. It was apparent that Jamie was about to sing with only Stephen's guitar to guide him as the other musicians have left the stage for refreshments. As Jamie cleared his voice, everyone hushed, and waited for the melody to play. And then Jamie sang, his sky blue eyes never straying from Claire's.

🎶🎶🎶

When I wake up, well, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you

When I go out, yeah, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you

If I get drunk, well, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you

And if I haver, hey, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you

But I would walk five hundred miles

And I would walk five hundred more

Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles

To fall down at your door

When I'm working, yes, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who's working hard for you

And when the money comes in for the work I do

I'll pass almost every penny on to you

When I come home (When I come home), oh, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you

And if I grow old, well, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you

But I would walk five hundred miles

And I would walk five hundred more

Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles

To fall down at your door

When I'm lonely, well, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you

And when I'm dreaming, well, I know I'm gonna dream

I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you

When I go out (When I go out), well, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you

And when I come home (When I come home), yes, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you

I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you

But I would walk five hundred miles

And I would walk five hundred more

Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles

To fall down at your door

🎶🎶🎶

As Jamie sang the last chorus, he made his way down the stage to stand before his wife, tears evident in his eyes.

Oh my giddy heart, he's done it again, the bloody Scot! Claire, who wasn't prone to crying in front of anyone, was now crying openly. If truth be told, Jamie had sung the song so beautifully, and from his heart, that she thought her own heart was going to implode.

As the last tune ended, everyone was so quiet, and so still, you could hear a pin drop. Jamie then gathered Claire into his arms and kissed her tenderly as one thumb wiped her tears away. "I love ye so much, Claire."

#melodyheart #highlanddestiny #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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whiskynottea · 5 years ago

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An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35, Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40, Chapter 41, Chapter 42, Chapter 43, Chapter 44, Chapter 45, Chapter 46, Chapter 47, Chapter 48, Chapter 49, Chapter 50, Chapter 51 Chapter 52, Chapter 53, Chapter 54, Chapter 55

AO3

A/N: We are 56 chapters in, and I would like to thank you for reading this story even though my updates have become irregular in the latest months and for your beautiful comments. ❤️ Real life is very demanding at the moment and I don’t have time to reply to all your comments but they mean a lot to me and reading your feedback always makes my day! Thank you!

The chapter is beta-ed, as always, by @theministerskat.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Chapter 56. Oxford

I was excited and afraid.

I was intrigued and intimidated.

I was enchanted.

I was at Oxford.

That city had been to me what castles and voluptuous dresses were for other little girls. A fairytale. A dream.

It had all started when I was eight years old. Lamb had taken me with him to visit one of his dearest friends -- one who by chance had just discovered a new archaeological site and was convinced that a whole city lay underneath tons of dust. This kind of information always worked like a fluorescent light for the kind of craved-for-knowledge-moth my uncle happened to be, and it took him only a few days to find airline tickets for us to fly from Lebanon to Oxford.

While my uncle and Andrew -- or Professor Horcrof, as he was known at the university -- spent endless days talking over manuscripts and pictures, I had been a PhD student’s burden to entertain. Extremely unprofessional on Andrew’s behalf, but I was too young to realize it back then and Emma insisted that taking care of me was no trouble at all. She was as sweet and kind as she was impressive -- almost as tall as Lamb, with golden hair and beautiful blue-rimmed glasses. Not really beautiful, but imposing, and it was obvious that everyone respected her. For me, the genuine niece of uncle Lamb, that meant much more than alluring eyes and an aristocratic nose.

Emma had been the reason I prayed for nearsightedness for years after we left Oxford. And the reason I found Oxford’s grey the most beautiful colour, and started building my own fairytale in the city of dreaming spires. She was the one who had taken me to the Bodleian Library and made me take the Bodleian oath. Sometimes, in the years that followed, when I closed my eyes, I could still feel my chest puff up with pride and self-importance as I spoke the words, ‘I hereby undertake not to remove from the Library, or to mark, deface, or injure in any way, any volume, or document…’

That day I had also sworn to her that when I grew up, I would study at Oxford as well. Emma had replied that she was sure I would.

And now, here I was. I wondered what Emma would think.

My college was not at the centre of the city and I felt my heart beat faster and faster inside my chest as I walked towards my destination. It was a struggle to bring my shallow breathing back to normal and not break into a run when I first glimpsed Lady Margaret Hall. A college with more than one hundred and forty years of history, and the first to educate women at Oxford.

I searched for the word in my head as my feet led me to the entrance. Honoured, I thought, and stepped inside.

Three days in Oxford and I was sure that Jamie’s phone would soon reach its maximum storage capacity after receiving so many pictures -- the buildings, my college, my room, the gardens… I didn’t even take the time to sort out the best pictures, but sent him everything, unable to contain the happiness I was feeling.

“You have to take me to each and every one of these places when I visit, Sassenach,” he’d written. I promised him I would.

The accommodations at Lady Margaret Hall were better than most colleges in Oxford, and Mary Hawkins, my roommate, was a sweet, if not a bit shy, girl from Bath. She had a quiet beauty, and luckily for both of us, she was a fellow medical student. I liked her from the first moment we introduced ourselves and she seemed to like me too, though she talked at a frequency that was barely audible, and it was a struggle to carry on a conversation without asking her to repeat herself over and over again. I soon realized that the low voice was a way to hide her stutter, and hoped that it would get better once she felt comfortable. Sometimes I wondered how it would be, if Louise was at Oxford with us and not in France. Or Jenny. Louise would tease Mary to no end. Jenny would, most likely, take Mary under her wing and protect her throughout our years at university.

I wasn’t surprised Mary kept mostly to herself. She mentioned once or twice that she had grown up with a strict father who made it explicit to her that Oxford University wasn’t a choice, but an obligation. He had gone to Oxford University. His father had studied there. Mary’s mother had graduated from Lady Margaret’s Hall. It was unacceptable for Mary to break the family tradition. I felt sorry, but happy she had made it and was away from them now. Sometimes distance was all it took for a child to become an adult.

Freshers’ week had been full of tours and social events for the new students. A whole week for everyone to become familiar with the university and have fun -- everyone except us, the medics. Our welcome included writing three essays for the first week of the term, and we spent a good amount of the week doing research in the library. There were four of us in Lady Margaret’s Hall and having to work while everyone else had the time of their lives formed a bond between us in a matter of days. The solidarity of the maltreated medics, we called it.

At least we had our parents, to help. The college family system assigned each one of us a student who was a year older, to guide us, give us advice and notes. Maisri, my college mam, had big brown eyes, thick black hair, and a deep voice that made everything she said sound serious. Even if it was something like, “Dr. Raymond won’t need the essay if you present yourself like this on Monday. One look at your hair and he’ll be scared for good. By no means, do continue running your hands through your curls.”

When we took a break from studying, I made sure to drag Mary with me to one party or another, determined to bring her out of her shell. When she wasn’t in the library, I usually found her in the piano room. It was the only place I saw her relax. She played the piano beautifully, and more than once, I grabbed a book and lounged there, feeling the notes dance in the room around us. I had tried to convince her to join me and Maisri in the yoga classes that were taking place in the gardens during the summer months, but Mary resolutely denied.

The Michaelmas term started right after Freshers’ week. And with the courses, real life commenced.

I had read that the University demanded eight hours per day be spent on focussed, concentrated academic work. Theoretically, that was fine. Practically, the workload of medical school was much heavier. We were in lectures and practicals from 9 am to 3 pm, and then we had three tutorials per week which required either an essay, a worksheet, or a presentation prepared beforehand.

It was amazing, studying medicine. But with the courses, meeting new people, and trying to socialize in an effort to be a part of the university community, I always felt exhausted. The pictures I sent to Jamie were limited to selfies showing me and my books while I was studying in the library, or shots of the collections of pints gathered on the table in front of me at local pubs.

Some nights I fell asleep so early that I missed my nightly call with Jamie. And other times I was out for drinks and ended up having a short video call outside a pub or a club, just to see him for a few minutes and hear his voice.

In any case, we still managed to talk at least once every day. And we texted when we couldn’t. And sent pictures.

It was the beginning, I reminded myself. It was expected that I would need some time to adjust. Jamie understood. He, too, had an intense schedule. His term was more demanding now that he had been admitted to the Ross School of Business, swimming meets had begun, and he pushed himself to his limits, which meant that he often overslept and missed our morning call.

I almost screamed when I read his text after his first race as a Wolverine. Almost, because at that time I was in a lecture. Mary and a few other students shot me bewildered glances, trying to guess what Dr. Hildstand had said that I found so fascinating, but I just shook my head and swallowed my smile, trying not to attract more attention. I texted Jamie a minute later, with a row of emojis. Then, I told him that I was proud of him and I loved him. He sent me a wet kiss picture in response.

I was just as happy and proud after his second race, but Jamie wasn’t. He had finished second, and apparently for Jamie that was equivalent to finishing last. That evening, I was in the study room with Mary, Malva, and Davie when Maisri rushed in, still laughing from something that she had said to someone in the corridor, and invited us to ‘Dissection Drinks’ with medics from other colleges. Mary groaned at the prospect of going out again, but Malva and Davie quickly accepted the invitation. I had almost agreed on going too, when I remembered that Jamie would be getting home early and we would have time for a rather extensive call. Judging by the sulky texts I got throughout the day, I was sure that he’d need to talk.

“I can’t come, but maybe next time,” I said, ignoring Maisri’s frown. I would give my Friday night to my boyfriend. Looking at the big black clock on the wall, I realized I only had half an hour before our call.

Mary called it an early night and after a quick visit to our room, I headed to the showers, wanting to be ready when Jamie called.

An hour later, I was lying on my bed, still waiting. And then, an hour after that. I’d texted Jamie and he just replied that he wasn’t home yet.

When Jamie finally called me, I was more than irritated and Mary was sound asleep in her bed. Grabbing my phone, I resorted to one of the empty study rooms to have a conversation where more than whispering could be used.

“You’re late, Jamie Fraser.” I had planned for very playful greeting while I was in the shower, but after two hours of waiting and seeing him fresh as a daisy, my tone turned dourer than I’d thought it would be.

“Ah, I ken. Sorry, Sassenach, we were out wi’ the team and I couldna leave earlier.”

I forced myself to relax and smile, and I was almost successful. It wasn’t his fault, I repeated to myself again and again, until I believed it. Keeping my frustration from being front and center, I focused on Jamie. Spending half of our time arguing about the fact that he was late would do neither of us any good.

“Congratulations for today,” I said, to change the mood and make it clear that the second place was to be praised.

He shook his head. “Second,” he said, glumly.

“You can’t always finish first, I hope you know that,” I admonished him. “Everyone has bad days, although I’m not sure that coming second counts as a bad day.”

“At the first race it was different. Today I was so stressed, I dinna think I’ve ever been that stressed before.”

“But why? You’ve participated in far bigger competitions before.”

“Aye, but in Scotland I knew my opponents. I had raced against them time and time again as we grew up and knew their mistakes and strong points. Here I have no idea what to expect. ”

“But in the first race --”

“I don’t think I’d realized the sheer size of competitions here,” he interrupted me. “The Big Ten, the NCAA championships…”

“Jamie, look at me.” I wished he could be next to me, so I could squeeze his cheeks between my hands and make him see how much he had already achieved. “You’ll do great. You’ll give your best self, you will keep working, and you will improve. You’re one of the best swimmers already! First and second place, come on!”

That made him laugh. “Thank ye, mo ghraidh. I wish you were here. It was always different when I was looking at you in the bleachers after seeing my times.”

“Well, if that makes you happy, I almost screamed both times I read your texts. During lectures, I have to mention.”

He laughed and his blue eyes shone for the first time that evening. “It does, Sassenach. It makes me happy. You make me happy. So, how was your day?”

“Good! I had my first tutorial with Dr. Raymond. He is absolutely amazing, Jamie. He’s tiny, really, no taller than Mrs. FitzGerald but he’s a force of nature. Ha. Funny, because the tutorial was on alternative medicine and herbs. It was the best tutorial I’d had so far.”

“So, uni is as ye expected it to be?”

“Heavier workload, if you can imagine that, but yes. I love it.” I smiled, realizing the truth behind my words. Medical school was everything I had wished for, and even more.

“Good. I’m glad ye do, babe. Did you look for tickets yet?”

I hesitated. “No, not yet.”

Jamie sighed. “Dinna leave it for the last moment, Sassenach. You’re going to pay a fortune at the end.” He opened a bottle of water and drank until it was half empty. “Dhia, I’m always so thirsty after coming back from Hector’s.”

“Alcohol causes dehydration, you know.”

“Aye, aye doctor.” He flashed a toothy grin and took another big gulp.

I waited until his eyes met mine again, seeking the right words to express what I needed to say. “Jamie, I was thinking…” Jamie left the water next to him and slightly tilted his head sideways, waiting. “I was thinking that maybe coming in two weeks isn’t a good idea, after all.”

“Oh?”

I knew he wouldn’t like that. “I know we planned on meeting in early November, but the term ends at the beginning of December, and I thought I might wait until then so I can stay longer when I come to Michigan. And maybe we could fly to Edinburgh together for Christmas.” I swallowed, uneasy, even though I knew that my proposal made perfect sense. There was no reason to spend so much money just to see him for a few days. “If I come before the term ends, I will stay only for a few days and I have lectures I don’t want to miss…” I added when he kept silent.

“I thought you’d be here for my race in New Jersey, that’s all,” he finally said with no trace of feeling in his voice. His face had changed into a neutral mask.

“But it’s a better plan if I come before Christmas, no?”

“I guess so.”

I fidgeted with the hem of my top, avoiding his eyes. I knew he wanted me to be in New Jersey as we had planned, but that was before I came to Oxford. I didn’t really know what I would find here. When I finally looked at Jamie, I saw a strained smile on his mouth and disappointment dancing in his stare. “I wanted to be there, too, Jamie,” I tried to explain. He nodded. “I wanted to,” I insisted, forcefully. “But we must make compromises. It’s just four weeks, and then we’ll spend a whole month together.”

“Yeah. Okay. You’re right.”

I smiled and blew him a kiss. He kissed me -- the screen -- back.

“So, what place did John get today? ” I asked to change the subject.

“Fourth. He was so pissed.” Jamie chuckled and I could see some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

We talked about swimming and his classes, and then about my practicals and my newfound love for yoga. “Until I find a decent dance club,” I clarified.

We smiled, laughed, and teased each other, but I could still feel a lingering uneasiness between us.

“Jamie?” I whispered when he said he was tired and would go to bed. “You know I wanted to be there, don’t you?”

This time his smile was genuine. “Aye, Sassenach. I ken. Ye just took me by surprise, is all. Dinna worry, aye?”

“And you know I love you, right?” I asked again.

His smile turned into a grin. “Aye, ye wee yogi.” He ignored my snort. “I love ye too, Claire.” This time his voice was guttural. I let out a heavy sigh and heard him mirroring it, as if we needed to hear the words even though we could always feel them resonating through our bodies.

“Now go to bed,” he finally said. “I’ll dream of you.”

“Me too,” I said, and we ended the call.

Me too.

Chapter 57

#thermodynamics #the first law of thermodynamics #jamie x claire #high school AU #college AU #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #the chapter titles of thermo look like a travel guide #also I updated without three hundred years delay!#yay!

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years ago

Text

Flood my Mornings: The Bairn

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment: A King on a Throne

In the wee hours of December 3, 1951

He couldn’t move. Everything, all their lives, depended on it, and the guilt and terror—

The walls of the wardrobe—

— Redcoats, just outside—

—And the knowledge: he had brought them down upon the house. Everyone would die because of him. The bairn would die.

He had the tiny thing clutched tight in his arms, willing all his strength into keeping it safe, into hushing its heartbreaking cries. This new joy was in danger, and if his life were meant for no other deed than this, he must not let the child come to harm.

And yet there was nothing he could do.

The powerlessness, the dread of it had him weeping into the soft, downy hair, silently, shaking, covering the child and waiting for the bayonet of an English sol—

“Jamie?”

He jumped. It was English, the voice, sharp. He curled deeper over the bairn.

“Jamie?”

Why could he not fight? Why would he only cower and weep?

A hand on his knee; another atop his hand that cradled the wailing child’s head.

“You’re awake. You’re safe.”

He wasn’t.

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t let them take—

“You’re in Boston…1951….You’re home.”

He felt the woman settle on the floor beside him, facing him, her cool hand touching his face, her arms going around them.

“I won’t let anything happen, love.”

He might have been asleep, there in the tub, except that I could see his knuckles, whiter than the porcelain.

God, he had looked so small, on the closet floor. The way he’d been holding Ian to his bare chest, curled in upon himself, turned away so that the claws of whatever beast or foe would tear him before the baby.

I’d stayed there on the ground with him, stiff and terrified but holding him fiercely while he’d wept, not daring to move my hands until he’d stirred again. The look in his eye when he had, after Ian had fallen asleep—it had terrified me still more, as though he didn’t know quite who I was.

He’d briefly let his fingers trail across my shoulder after he’d risen and put Ian back in the cradle, but he didn’t speak, not even as he walked away.

The echo of his dream had gripped my heart as I sat helplessly on the carpet, heart racing long past the time I’d heard the bath being drawn. What had he been dreaming of, I’d wondered. Something had frightened him, and badly, yet he’d said not a single word. Would he tell me, if I asked? Ought I to? Or was it better to let the ghost of it vanish into the night?

I still wasn’t certain, but he spared me having to choose. When he opened his eyes from the bathtub, he immediately held out a hand to me, inviting me into the darkness still pressing in around his mind.

The tub was large, but so was he, and I was obliged to settle more on top of him than beside. He didn’t seem to mind; he only turned on the tap with his foot until we were both covered securely in the water’s warmth, and held me. Held onto me. My hand slid slowly down between his legs, gently holding him there. I didn’t intend it to arouse or distract him. Perhaps I only wanted to reach the most intimate part of him I could, to have him know he was safe. His own hand came up to my nape, the big thumb behind my ear, warm, trembling.

“Even despite the fact,” he whispered much later, his forehead against mine, “that it meant missing Brianna’s birth; that I ought never to have seen you again in life—I will never regret sending ye away when I did.”

The breath knocked out of me as the shape of his dream began to take form in my mind.

His voice broke. “We wouldna have survived the Clearances, had ye stayed.”

I reached up and touched his face. I wanted to declare it maudlin nonsense—that of course we would have made do and had our life together, no matter the circumstances; but he was right. Given the direness of that November morning three years ago (and that in a modern hospital), either I or Bree would surely have died had she been born in the eighteenth century; and even if not, I knew the horrors and tragedies that would have marred our life as a family. Having Bree grow up with her father in hiding would have broken all of our hearts, day after day. Jamie would have taken risks to be near us as often as possible, putting him and me and Jenny’s family all the more at risk from Redcoat incursions. Our joy would have been so strangled, in that place and time, so tempered by war and hunger and constant fear; by hopelessness.

“Do you pray, Claire?”

The question, asked plainly, with no sense of being rhetorical, took me aback enough that I couldn’t respond. When my choked throat cleared and I could have spoken, I was no closer to an answer.

I did find myself uttering prayers now and again, usually by habit, or else in times of great desperation, but I couldn’t say with complete truth, most days, that I believed in an answering power. I believed deeply in the comfort and strength of hope in itself, yes, but true belief came far less easily to me than to Jamie. I very often envied him that faith, the surety it could give. I couldn’t answer, not if it would take away his hope tonight.

Jamie, though, didn’t need my answer, not to that question, anyway.

“Will ye hold Jenny and her bairns wi’ me in your heart, tonight?”

I laid my head over his heart, holding him as he let his brokenhearted wishes whisper out into the night, my own wrapped tight around them as we both spoke peace and safety toward Lallybroch.

Aberdeenshire, 1935

“But Mammmm,” the little girl whined, louder than she knew she ought, “Why do I have to stay? Can I no’ just go in the other room and listen to Children’s Hour??”

“Your grandfather doesna have a wireless, Cait,” Mam hissed, looking for a moment over her shoulder to smile a fake smile at Grandda. “And for Christ’s sake, keep your voice d—”

“We’ve been here for HOURS alrea—”

“HUSH, NOW.” She loked about furiously before pulling a few old books from the shelf by the sofa. “Sit quiet and practice reading your letters.”

“I ken how to read, Mam,” Cait scoffed, now annoyed on top of being bored to death. “I’m eight bloody years old, for f—”

“We’ll be leaving in twenty minutes,” Mam snapped in that whisper that wanted to be a screech, “but if I hear one more peep out of you, young lady—least of all with such filthy language— we’ll stay another hour. Understood?”

Cait made a face at the back of her mother’s head and thumped her back hard against the sofa cushions in protest. Canna peep, but she didna say anything about THUDDING, now, did she?

Still, after a minute of secret sighing, the boredom crept in—Hell, did Grandda have to drone on and on all the time?— and she reluctantly opened the cover of the top book on her lap.

It was a Bible, which ordinarily Cait wouldn’t have bothered with, having quite enough of that at church, thank you very much, but someone had written in it by hand, and that she liked. She made a point of doing so herself, in fact. She lived for Sundays, if only for seeing which old lady would suddenly gasp in the middle of the sermon and slam her pew Bible closed, turning all red and twitchy-eyed.

The ones in this Bible weren’t rude words or jokes, though, just names and dates for people that were born or died in Grandda’s family a long, long time ago.

Her eyes went almost at once to that one particular line, and it gave her such a delicious, spooky thrill to see her own name—except for the middle one; hers was Jane—coming out of the past:

Caitlin Maisri Murray

Born: December 3, 1749

Died: December 3—

Cait (maybe she would let people start calling her Caitlin again, she thought) had to peer hard at the page to read the year. It was smudged pretty badly, but she was almost sure of it, at least the first two numbers:

—1816.

#;mod Bonnie #Flood my mornings

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