Jenny and Rachel both laughed, one with honest amusement and the other ruefully.
Im afraid we havent managed to find the proper name for him as yet, Rachel said, touching him gently on the shoulder. Oggy turned toward his mothers voice and kept on turning, leaning slowly out of Jennys arms like a sloth drawn ineluctably toward sweet fruit.
Rachel gathered him up, gently touching his cheek. He turned his headagain slowlyand started sucking on her knuckle.
Ian says that Mohawk children find their proper names when theyre older, and have just cradle-names until then.
Jennys shapely black eyebrows rose at this.
Ye mean to tell me that the bairns going to be Oggy until when?
Oh, no, Rachel assured her. Im sure Ill think of something before when. She smiled at her mother-in-law, who rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Brianna.
Im glad ye didna have such trouble wi your own bairns, a nighean. Jamie said in his letters that theyre called Jeremiah and Amanda, is that right?
Brianna coughed, avoiding Rachels eye.
Um Jeremiah Alexander Ian Fraser MacKenzie, she said. And Amanda Claire Hope MacKenzie.
Jenny nodded approvingly, whether at the quality or the quantity of the names.
Jenny! Brees father appeared on the porch, sweaty and disheveled, bloodstained shirt much in evidence. Ian canna find the beer.
We drank it, Jenny called back, not turning a hair.
Oh. He disappeared back into the house, presumably in search of something else potable, leaving damp, slightly bloody footprints on the porch.
Whats happened to him? Jenny demanded, shooting a sharp glance from the footprints to Brianna, who shrugged.
A bear.
Oh. She seemed to digest this for a moment, then shook her head. I suppose Ill have to let him have beer, then. She disappeared after the menfolk, leaving Brianna and Rachel outside.
I dont think Ive ever met a Quaker before, Brianna said after a slightly awkward pause. Is Quaker the right word, by the way? I dont mean to
We say Friend, Rachel said, smiling again. Quaker is not offensive, though. But I think thee must have met at least one. Thee might not know, if the Friend chose not to use Plain Speech in talking with thee. Most of us dont have stripes, spots, or any other physical mark by which thee might discern us.
Most of you?
Well, naturally I cannot see my own back, but Im sure Ian would have told me, was there anything remarkable
Brianna laughed, feeling slightly giddy from hunger, relief, and the simple, recurrent joy at being with her family again. A charmingly expanded family, too, it seemed.
Im really glad to meet you, she said to Rachel. I couldnt imagine what sort of girl would marry IanIm sorry, that sounds wrong
No, thee is quite right, Rachel assured her. I couldnt have imagined marrying a man like him, either, but there he is in my bed each morning, nonetheless. They do say the Lord moves in mysterious ways. Come into the house, she added, shifting Oggy into a new position. I know where the wine is.
5
Meditations on a Hyoid
IT ALL BEGINS IN medias res, and if youre lucky, it ends that way as well. Roger swallowed, and I felt his larynx bob under my fingers. The skin of his throat was cool, and smooth where I held it, though I could feel a tiny prickle of beard stubble brush my knuckle just under his jaw.
Thats what Dr. McEwan said? I asked curiously. What did he mean by it, I wonder?
Rogers eyes were closedpeople normally closed their eyes when I examined them, as though needing to preserve what privacy they couldbut at this, he opened them, an arresting deep green lit by the morning sun.
I asked him. He said that nothing ever truly starts or stops, so far as he could see. That people think a childs life begins at birth, but plainly thats not soye can see them move in the womb, and a child that comes too soon will often live for a short time, and ye see that its alive in all its senses, even though it cant sustain life.
Now Id closed my own eyes, not because I found Rogers gaze unsettling, but in order to concentrate on the vibrations of his words. I moved my grip on his throat a little lower.
Well, hes quite right about that, I said, envisioning the inner anatomy of the throat as I talked. Babies are born already running, as it were. All their processesexcept breathingare working long before birth. But thats still a rather cryptic remark.
Yes, it was. He swallowed again and I felt his breath, warm on my bare forearm. I prodded him a bit, because hed obviously meant it by way of explanationor at least the best he could do by way of explanation. I dont suppose you could describe what it is you actually do when you heal someone, could you?
I smiled at that without opening my eyes. Oh, I might have a go at it. But theres an implied error there; I dont actually heal people. They heal by themselves. I just support them.
A sound that wasnt quite a laugh made his larynx execute a complicated double bob. I thought I could feel a slight concavity under my thumb, where the cartilage had been partially crushed by the rope I put my other hand round my own throat, for comparison.
Thats actually what he said, tooHector McEwan, I mean. But he did heal people; I saw him do it.
My hands released both our throats, and I opened my eyes.
He gave me a quick précis of his relations with William Buccleigh, from Bucks role in his hanging at Alamance, through the reappearance of his ancestor in Inverness in 1980, and Bucks joining him in the search for Jem, after Briannas erstwhile co-worker, Rob Cameron, had kidnapped the boy.
That was when he became a bit more than a friend, Roger said. He looked down and cleared his throat. He came with me to search for Jem. Jem wasnt there, of course, but we did find another Jeremiah. My father, he said abruptly, his voice cracking on the word. I reached by reflex for his hand, but he waved me off, clearing his throat again.
Its okay. IllIll tell you about that later. He swallowed and straightened a little, meeting my eyes again. But Buckthats what we called him, Buckwhen we came through the stones in search of Jem, we were both damaged by the passage. You said, I think, that it got worse, if you did it more than once?
Its okay. IllIll tell you about that later. He swallowed and straightened a little, meeting my eyes again. But Buckthats what we called him, Buckwhen we came through the stones in search of Jem, we were both damaged by the passage. You said, I think, that it got worse, if you did it more than once?
I wouldnt say once isnt damaging, I said, with a small internal shudder at the memory of that void, a chaos where nothing seems to exist but noise. That, and the faint flicker of thought, all that holds you together between one breath and the next. But yes, it does get worse. What happened to you?
To me, not that much. Unconscious for a bit, woke up strangling, fighting for air. Muck sweat, disorientation; couldnt keep my balance for a bit, staggered all over. But Buck He frowned, and I saw his eyes change as he looked inward again, seeing the green hilltop of Craigh na Dun as he woke with the rain on his face. As I had waked three times. The hair on my neck rose slowly.
It seemed to be his heart. He had a pain in his chest, his left arm, and he couldnt breathe well, said it was like a weight on his chest, and he couldnt get up. I got him water, though, and after a bit he seemed okay. At least he could walk, and he brushed off any suggestion that we stop and rest.
They had separated then, Buck to search the road toward Inverness, Roger to go to Lallybroch, and
Lallybroch! This time I did grab him by the arm. You went there?
I did, he said, and smiled. He clasped my hand, where it lay on his arm. I met Brian Fraser.
YoubutBrian? I shook my head in order to clear it. That made no sense.
No, it didnt make sense, he said, plainly reading my thoughts from my face and smiling at the results. We didnt go whereI mean whenwe thought we were going. We ended in 1739.
I stared at him for a moment, and he shrugged helplessly.
Later, I said firmly, and reached for his throat again, thinking, In medias res. What the devil did McEwan mean by that?
I could hear distant childish shouts from the direction of the creek, and the high, cracked screech of a hawk in the tall snag at the far side of our clearing; I could just see himor herfrom the corner of my eye: a large dark shape like a torpedo on a dead branch. And I was beginning to hearor to think I heardthe thrum of blood in Rogers neck, a faint sound, separate from the thump of his pulse. And the fact that I was evidently hearing it through my fingertips seemed shockingly ordinary.
Talk to me a bit more, I suggested, as much to avoid hearing what I thought I heard as in order to loosen up his larynx. About anything.
He hummed for a moment, but that made him cough, and I dropped my hand so he could turn his head.
Sorry, he said. Bobby Higgins was just telling me the Ridge is growinga lot of new families, I hear?
Like weeds, I said, replacing my hand. We came back to find that at least twenty new families had settled down, and thereve been three more just since we came back from Savannah, where the winds of war had briefly blown us.
He nodded, a slight frown on his face, and gave me a sidelong green glance. I dont suppose any of the new settlers is a minister?
No, I said promptly. Is that what youI mean, you still think you
I do. He looked up at me, a little shyly. Im not fully ordained yet; Ill need to take care of that, somehow. But when we decided to come back, we talkedBree and I. About what we might do. Here. And He lifted both shoulders, palms on his knees. Thats what I might do.
You were a minister here before, I said, watching his face. Do you really have to be formally ordained to do it again?
He didnt have to think; hed done his thinking long since.
I do, he said. I dont feel wrong about having buried or married folk before, or christened them. Someone had to do it, and I was all there was. But I want it to be right. He smiled a little. Its maybe like the difference between being handfast and being properly married. Between a promise and a vow. Even if ye ken yed never break the promise, ye want He struggled for the words. Ye want the weight of the vow. Something to stand at your back.