#they share scrunchies they told me so at brunch last week

[towards-toramunda]

Essek Thelyss I am holding you so gently and rocking you like a little cat in my arms. I am making you soup with vegetables from your garden. I am forcing you to take a shower. I am braiding your hair out of your eyes. I am tucking you in with that blanket you knit a few months back.

I feel so normal about this fictional war criminal guys.

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

Previous

AO3

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy. No t many chapters to go now.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta and support

Chapter 28: A Waiting Game

The more Susan waited, the more the doorbell didn't ring. Or the phone.― Douglas Adams, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency

“Hello, Jamie. It’s Isobel. How are you? Just wondered how you and Claire are doing? We haven’t spoken since before Christmas.”

“No’ too bad, Isobel. How’s yerself? Listen, come round fer brunch this Sunday, if ye fancy it. John’s comin’ too.”

“Gosh, thanks. I’d like that. I haven’t seen John for ages… wait… you’re not planning on cooking are you? Can Claire cook?”

“Weel, she can make a bacon sandwich and fry an egg.”

“Without setting the fire alarm off? That’s an improvement on you then, Jamie. Do you remember that time at university when you…”

“Aye, so we’ll be seein’ ye on Sunday then. ‘Bout eleven? Bye Isobel.”

******

“Sassenach…”

Jamie stretched out in bed, impatient for Claire to come and join him. The sounds of her bedtime routine filtered through the closed en suite bathroom door as she applied her various wee creams and potions to her face before cleaning her teeth. She didn’t really need to bother with them but he loved how she would slide into bed next to him, her skin still moist from her ministrations, her neck smelling delicately of rose and almond. And when she lifted her hands to his face, the scent of lavender would fill his nostrils.

“Sassenach…” He called her again. “I’ve asked Isobel fer brunch on Sunday as well. That’ll be ok?”

The door opened and Claire stuck her head out, her hair tied up with a scrunchy and cheeks pink from scrubbing. “Fine with me. Just need to buy a couple more croissants… wait, you’re not trying to match John and Isobel are you? I mean you know them better than I do, but I think that would be a hopeless challenge.”

Jamie snorted with laughter as Claire’s head disappeared back into the bathroom. “Nah, jes’ thought it would be a good catch up fer us all. I’m goin’ tae have tae rely on Isobel more over the next few weeks, ye ken. Now, woman, are ye no’ finished in there wi’ all yer potions and such? Yer man is awfa lonesome in here.”

The ping of his phone distracted Jamie from his solitary status. He quickly opened his message. “Christ!” He exclaimed.

Alarmed, Claire rushed into the bedroom, settling herself beside him. “What’s the matter, love? It’s not the baby, is it? It’s too early.”

Jamie shook his head and hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I’m no’ hidin’ this from ye. Trust me...Geneva’s sent me some photos.”

Noticing the look of alarm on Claire’s face, he quickly added. “They’re of Geneva...jes’ her.”

“Can I see?”

“Do ye really want tae?” Jamie asked before passing the phone to Claire as she nodded.

The image on the screen was a studio portrait proof of Geneva - a very pregnant and very naked Geneva - her modesty only protected by an arm barely covering her nipples and a strategically bent leg. A second image, from behind showed no hint of a baby bump, just her elegant profile and shapely back descending to two perfectly placed dimples above the cleft of her buttocks. Claire’s initial reaction on seeing the pictures was a blend of jealousy and admiration mixed with a tinge of inadequacy.

“I have to say, Jamie, I think they are beautiful. Being able to have that memory of your baby must be very special to treasure. I think I would do that… if it were me…” Claire tailed off.

“Aye, I ken that, but this is Geneva. I think ye’re too generous, Sassenach. She’s no’ sent them to me fer no reason. This is another attempt of hers tae play happy families. I canna be doin’ wi’ it. Jes’ delete them, would ye? I dinna want tae even look at them.”

As requested, Claire pressed delete. Jamie pulled her closer to him, inhaling her scent and slowly unzipping her onesie, his phone discarded on the pillow. His hand snaked inside and underneath her vest, its gentle strokes making her squirm and bring her body even tighter against his.

With his mouth warm against her ear, he whispered, “When it’s ye that’s carryin’ our bairn, I will take as many photos as ye like and will cherish each and every one of them… because it’s ye and me and our love.”

Claire looked into his deep blue eyes. “Oh, Jamie, I do love you.”

********

“Sassenach, are ye sure ye dinna want me tae try ma hand at some drop scones? We have everything we need in the cupboards.”

Claire brushed past Jamie, playfully pushing him out of her way and towards the kitchen door. “Nooo!” She said laughing. “We want a stress free time. I can manage scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and make sourdough toast without burning. We have plenty of croissants and pastries.  Make the coffee, you do it so well… and the washing up!”

Only pausing to fondle her arse, Jamie left the kitchen. Claire could hear him in the living room pottering around. Her guess that he was looking for some background music was proved correct as Biffy Clyro poured through the speakers set up in all the downstairs rooms. The sound of the doorbell interrupted Jamie’s tuneless singalong.

Claire ventured out of the kitchen to greet John and Isobel as Jamie gathered up coats and bottles. After the general exchange of hugs and greetings had died down, Claire excused herself to continue with the (minimal) preparations, while Jamie was left in charge of mixing up the Buck’s Fizz. Isobel followed Claire into the kitchen.

“Can I lend a hand? Anything you want me to do?” Isobel offered.

Claire shook her head. “Not much to do, just need to make the scrambled eggs and some toast. Even I can manage that.”

“Well that’s more than Jamie can do. I remember when he was at university, one evening, he…”

“Och, what’s all this then? Gossiping in here? What are ye doin’ tae me, Isobel?” Jamie handed them both a glass with a smile. “I dinna tell all yer secrets now, do I?”

******

To Claire’s relief, brunch had gone surprisingly well. By no means a natural cook, she had always worried in the kitchen and had often been made to feel inadequate when preparing food for Frank and the occasional guest. But she hadn’t burnt anything, everyone had eaten their fill and now she could relax with a large cup of coffee dutifully prepared by Jamie.

“Thanks to our hostess for this brunch.” John raised his mug in a toast to Claire. “So, is this official? Are you two living together now?”

“No…” Claire and Jamie responded in unison.

“Well,” John continued. “When were you last at your place, Claire?”

“Yesterday.” Claire said emphatically.

“Hmm. For how long?”

Claire suddenly found the contents of her coffee cup remarkably interesting. “Er, about an hour…”

“And before that?”

“I ken what ye’re gettin’ at, John, ever the lawyer. And, aye, we are together most of the time. But it’s no’ ‘official’, as ye call it. We canna rock the boat at the moment. Until Geneva’s had the bairn and ma name is on the birth certificate, we have tae be careful.”

“And you genuinely believe Jamie is the father?” John asked Isobel.

Isobel considered the question. “I really do. Once she saw Jamie again at the wedding, she told me this was her second chance. Even when he told her it wouldn’t work, she still believed he’d come back, that the split was temporary. She wouldn’t have risked that.”

“She’s no’ finished playin’ her games though, has she?” Jamie turned to Isobel.

Isobel thought for a moment before responding. “I’m not sure, Jamie. She doesn’t tell me what she’s about to do. She thinks I’ll disapprove of her ideas, or try to talk her out of them. Not that she listens to me. You saw the photos, I take it?”

John looked quizzically over to Jamie who answered his gaze with an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

“Aye, we saw the photos,” Jamie replied to Isobel. “And then we deleted them…”

“I know. I did try to tell her not to send them to you, but she went ahead anyway. You didn’t respond with a flurry of compliments and she went into a massive sulk. She found a game she can’t win, no matter what tactic she tries. It’s not like when she wanted a pony, or a skiing holiday, or a new car. This is something that Mummy can’t fix for her, though I know she’s tried.”

Jamie nodded at the recollection of Mrs. Dunsany storming into this house demanding that he “do the right thing” by her daughter.

“Aye, I think in days gone by I’d have been marched off tae the kirk wi’ a shotgun at ma back. I ken I’m no’ popular wi’ yer mother, but ye think I’m ‘doin’ the right thing’ by yer sister, do ye no’?”

“I do, Jamie. I think part of it with Geneva now is the challenge of being told no. Everything’s been given so easily to her and she wants to win so badly.”

Jamie reached across the table, covering Isobel’s hand with his own. “Ye’re a real treasure, ye ken, Isobel. Claire and I both would be lost in this situation wi’out ye.”

Smiling, Claire nodded in agreement.

“So, what’s next in this situation?” John asked. “Have you discussed the birth? Not long to go now.”

“Well, for once we’re all in agreement. Geneva doesn’t want Jamie around during the delivery… which is just as well as he doesn’t want to be there either.”

Claire laughed. “She probably doesn’t want him to see her looking less than her usual immaculate self. I’m surprised, though, that she’s not having an elective caesarean.”

“Actually that was the original plan but she wasn’t convinced that the surgeon would do a good enough job with the scar, so it’s a normal delivery if possible. I’ve agreed to be her birthing partner. So I’m going to ring Jamie when Geneva’s in labour, and then when the baby is born and he can come and visit.”

John looked across at Claire, suddenly silent, gazing into the depths of her coffee cup. Her fingers stroked the delicate necklace nestled at the base of her throat.

He knew all too well what she must be feeling - the pang of sadness and envy as someone else was about to share special experiences and memories with Jamie. Experiences that he could not be part of. He wanted to reassure her, explain that she could live with these feelings, accept them, bottle them up even, for years, until they became part of the fabric of everyday life, just like him. He was the master at that. And he also knew he could never share any of this with Claire.

“More coffee, anyone?” Claire pushed her chair back and headed to the kitchen in search of a distraction.

*************

As Geneva’s due date grew closer, Claire found herself becoming more and more anxious and tense. She had to make a conscious effort not to flinch every time she heard Jamie’s phone signal the arrival of a text.

It was a nervous time for Jamie, preparing to meet his son, but to Claire it marked the end of a part of their relationship. The little insular bubble that they had been living in for the past eight months was about to burst and then there would always be other considerations, other demands on Jamie’s time.

To compensate, Claire tried to throw herself wholeheartedly into the plans Jamie was making. She spent a weekend with him carefully decorating a spare bedroom, turning it into a nursery fit for his son. She spent hours looking at cots, changing stations and nursery furniture, helping Jamie decide which to buy. She even helped him select a suitable gift for Geneva. Actually, more than helped, she created the gift, buying a large wicker hamper and filling it with carefully selected goodies for mother and baby - the softest cashmere baby blanket, the cutest teddy, vests, babygros, memory books and a huge selection of Neal’s Yard aromatherapy products for mother and baby. The kind of gift, in fact, that Claire herself would love to receive, if it were her...

Jamie’s heart filled as he saw Claire so involved in the plans for his child. He loved and admired her so much. He recognised that this was a difficult time for her and yet she was there, by his side, supporting and loving him. He tried to take time to reassure her, show her what she meant to him.

His regret was simple. He didn’t wish his son away, not now, he knew that he would love him and cherish him. No, he wished that it was Claire carrying this child, that they were making all the preparations together for their bairn.

It would be their turn, together, in the not too distant future, he hoped.

**********

Jamie watched from the doorway as Claire, seemingly unaware of his presence, opened drawers and cupboards, putting away some of their latest purchases and hand-me-downs from Wee Jamie.  He crept up behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“How can ye do this?” he asked.

“Well, this stuff Jenny gave for the baby needed to be put away and so…”

“Nah, I dinna mean that. I mean, being here, supporting me… loving me.”

“Say it was me.” Jamie looked confused as Claire continued. “Say I was the one who had a child when we met, would you have still wanted a relationship?”

“Aye, I get what ye're saying. But Geneva as part of the package? That would be enough tae try the patience of a saint.”

“Well, what about if Frank was part of the package, what would you do?”

“I dinna ken,” Jamie admitted. “Mebbe punch him?”

“Well, I’m sure Geneva would love that, if I hit her… she could make me out as the evil homewrecker, charge me with assault, who knows? No, she wants me to react, create a scene… so the nicer I am, the more frustrating for her.”

Claire turned around to face Jamie. “You know, for months I hated Geneva, despised her for what she is doing. But not now.”

“Ye dinna hate her?” Jamie looked surprised.

Claire shook her head. “No. Look at the little games she's playing… getting more and more desperate and obvious. It's just sad, pathetic really. So no, no I don't hate her. I pity her.”

“Ye pity Geneva. God, she'd hate that.”

“I know.” Claire said happily.

********

For Jamie and Claire, Saturday night meant a takeaway curry, samosas, bhajis and a stack of poppadoms, all washed down with a couple of bottles of Indian beer. Perched on the sofa, watching the television, they had just started eating when Jamie’s phone rang.

Nervously, he answered. Claire listened intently to his side of the conversation.

“Hi… hello… Isobel.”

“Ok… everything ok?”

“Aye… like a torrent, ye say?”

“Thanks… keep me posted.”

“Oh, and Isobel, please wish her well from me. I dinna ken what else tae say. Bye…”

Jamie turned to Claire, his food now forgotten. “Ye ken what that was, Sassenach, I take it.”

Claire nodded and took his hands, now slightly trembling, in hers.

“Isobel says her waters broke and she’s started wi’ the pains, so they rang the hospital who said tae go in. She’s only early stages yet, so a long ways tae go. Isobel’ll ring when there’s news.”

Jamie pulled Claire close and kissed her soundly on the lips. Despite his nervousness, she could see the excitement in his eyes.

“Christ, Sassenach, a baby… my son.”