Well, more or less, Roger said, pulling Brees big canvas bag out of the pile. That is, there wereare, I meana few books that are intended for children. Though the only titles that come to mind at the moment are Hymns for the Amusement of Children, The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes, and Descriptions of Three Hundred Animals.
Do they actually make books now for children Mandys age? I asked, looking down at her. Bree had said she could read a bit already, but Id never seen anything in an eighteenth-century printshop that looked like it would be comprehensiblelet alone appealingto a three-year-old.
Well, more or less, Roger said, pulling Brees big canvas bag out of the pile. That is, there wereare, I meana few books that are intended for children. Though the only titles that come to mind at the moment are Hymns for the Amusement of Children, The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes, and Descriptions of Three Hundred Animals.
What sorts of animals? Jamie asked, looking interested.
No idea, Roger confessed. Ive not seen any of those books; just read the titles on a list.
Did you ever print any books for children, in Edinburgh? I asked Jamie, who shook his head. Well, what did you read when you were in school?
As a bairn? The Bible, he said, as though this should be self-evident. And the almanac. After we learnt the ABC, I mean. Later we did a bit of Latin.
I want my book, Mandy said firmly. Gimme, Daddy. Please? she added, seeing her mothers mouth open. Bree shut her mouth and smiled, and Roger peered into the sack, then withdrew a bright-orange book that made me blink.
What? said Jamie, leaning forward to peer at it. He looked at me, eyebrows raised. I shrugged; hed find out soon enough.
Read it, Mummy! Mandy curled into her mothers side, thrusting the book into Brees hands.
Okay, Bree said, and opened it. Do you like green eggs and ham? I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.
What? said Fanny incredulously, and moved to peer over Brees shoulder, closely accompanied by Germain.
What is that? Germain asked, fascinated.
Sam-I-Am! Mandy said crossly, and jabbed a finger at the page. He gots a sign!
Ah, oui. And whats the other thing, then? A Who-Are-You?
That made Fanny, Jemmy, and Roger laugh, which turned Mandy incandescent with rage. She might not have the red hair, I thought, but she had the Fraser temper, in spades.
Shut up, shut up, shut up! she shrieked, and scrambling to her feet made for Germain with the obvious intent of disemboweling him with her bare hands.
Whoa! Roger snared her deftly and lifted her off her feet. Calm down, sweetheart, he didnt mean
I could have told himbut if he hadnt learned it from sharing a household with assorted Frasers for years, it wouldnt do any good to tell him nowthat the very last thing you should say to one in full roar was Calm down. Like putting out an oil fire on your stove by throwing a glass of water on it.
He did! Mandy bellowed, struggling madly in her fathers grip. I hate him, he wuined it, its all wuined! Leggo, I hate you, too! She started kicking, dangerously in the vicinity of her fathers crotch, and he instinctively held her out, away from him.
Jamie reached out, wrapped an arm round her middle, gathered her in, and put a big hand on the nape of her neck.
Hush, a nighean, he said, and she did. She was panting like a little steam engine, red-faced and teary, but she stopped.
Well step outside for a moment, shall we? he said to her, and nodded to the rest of the assembled company. No ones to touch her book while were gone. Dye hear?
There was a faint murmur of assent, succeeded by total silence as Jamie and Mandy disappeared into the night.
The cookies! Smelling the strong scent of incipient scorching, I darted to the oven, snatched the girdle out, and hastily flipped the cookies off onto the Big Platethe only pottery dish we owned at the moment, but capable of holding anything up to a small turkey.
Are the cookies okay? Jem, with a total disregard for his sisters immediate prospects, hurried over to look.
Yes, I assured him. A bit brown at the edges, but perfectly fine.
Fanny had come, too, but was less intent on gluttony.
Will Mr. Fraser whip her? she whispered, looking anxious.
No, Germain assured her. Shes too little.
Oh, no, shes not, Jemmy assured him, with a wary glance at his mother, whose face was distinctly flushed, if not quite as red as Mandys.
All the children had clustered round me, whether out of interest in cookies or from self-preservation. I lifted an eyebrow at Roger, who went and sat down beside Brianna. I turned my back, to allow a little marital privacy, and sent Fanny and Jem out to fetch the big pitcher of milk, presently hanging in the welland I did hope none of the local frogs had decided to avail themselves, in defiance of the stone-weighted cloth Id draped over the pitchers mouth.
Im sorry, Grannie. Germain edged close to me, low-voiced. I didna mean to cause a stramash, truly.
I know, sweetheart. Everybody knows, except Mandy. And Grandda will explain it to her.
Oh. He relaxed at once, having total faith in his grandfathers ability to charm anything from an unbroken horse to a rabid hedgehog.
Go get the mugs, I told him. Everyone will be back soon.
The tin mugs had been rinsed after dinner and left upside down to dry on the stoop; Germain hurried out, carefully not looking at Bree.
Germain thought she was angry with him, but it was apparent to me that she was upset, not angry. And no wonder, I thought sympathetically. Shed tried so hard, for so long, to keep Jem and Mandy safeand happy. First, during Rogers long and harrowing absence, and then the search to find him, the trip through the stones, and the long journey here. Little wonder that her nerves were still on edge. Luckily, Rogers instincts as a husband were quite good; he had his arm round her and her head resting on his shoulder, and was murmuring things to her, too low for me to catch the words, but the tone of it was love and reassurance, and the lines of her face were smoothing out.
I heard soft voices in the other direction, too, through the open kitchen doorJamie and Mandy, evidently pointing out stars they liked to each other. I smiled, arranging the cookies on the platter. He probably could charm a rabid hedgehog, I thought.
With his own good instincts, Jamie waited until the mob had reassembled and were eagerly sniffing the warm cookies. Then he carried Mandy back in and deposited her among the other children without comment.
Thirty-four? he said, assessing the array at a glance. One for Oggy, aye?
Yes. How do you do that?
Och, its no difficult, Sassenach. He leaned over the platter and closed his eyes, inhaling beatifically. Its easier than goats and sheep after allcookies dinna have legs.
Legs? said Fanny, puzzled.
Oh, aye, he said, opening his eyes and smiling at her. To know the number o goats ye have, ye just count the legs and divide by four.
The adult members of the audience groaned, and Germain and Jem, who had learnt division, giggled.
That Fanny began, and then stopped, frowning.
Sit, I said briskly. Jem, pour the milk, please. And how many cookies does each person get then, Mr. Know-it-all?
Three! the boys chorused. A dissenting opinion from Mandy, who thought everyone should have five, was quelled without incident and the whole room relaxed into a quiet orgy of cold, creamy milk and sweet-scented crumbs.
Now, then, Jamie said, and paused, carefully brushing crumbs off his shirtfront into his palm and licking them off. Now, then, he repeated. Amanda tells me she can read her book by herself. Will ye maybe read it to us, a leannan?
Yes!
And with only a brief interruption for the wiping of sticky hands and face, she was ensconced once more in her mothers armsbut this time, the vivid orange book was in her own lap. She opened the cover and glared at her audience.
Everybody shut up, she said firmly. I read.
THE SURGERY WAS the only room with complete walls, so once the cookie crumbs were all devoured, and Mandys book read aloud several times, Ian and his family left for their own cabin and the children lugged their pallets down the rudimentary hallway, excited at the prospect of sleeping in their own house.
I went with them to make up a fire in the brazier, the second chimney not being yet complete, and hung tattered quilts over the open window and doorway to discourage bats, mosquitoes, foxes, and curious rodents.
Now, if a raccoon or a possum should come in, I said, dont try to make it leave. Just come out of the surgery and get your father or your grandsire. Or your mother, I added. Bree could certainly deal with a rogue raccoon.
I threw a kiss to the room at large and went back to the kitchen.
The smell of molasses had faded, but the air was still sweet, now with the scent of whisky. Brianna, sitting on a wooden box of indigo, raised her tin cup to me.
Youre just in time, she said.
For what?
Jamie handed me a full cup and tapped the rim of his to mine. Slàinte, he said. To the new hearth.
For presents, Bree said, half apologetically. I thought about it for a long time. I didnt know if Id ever find youany of you she added, with a serious glance at Roger. And I wanted to bring something that would last, even if it got destroyed or lost.
Jamie and I exchanged a puzzled look, but she was already delving into her canvas bag. She came up with a chunky blue book and, eyes dancing, put it into my hands.
What I began, but I knew instantly from the feel of it and let out a noise that could only be called a squeal. Bree! Oh, oh !
Jamie was smiling but still puzzled. I held it out to him, then clutched it to my bosom before he could take it. Oh! I said again. Bree, thank you! This is wonderful!
She was pink with pleasure, her eyes shiny in response to my excitement. I thought youd like it.
Oh !
Let me see it, mo nighean donn, Jamie said, reaching gently for the book. I could hardly bear to let go of it, but relinquished it.
Merck Manual, Thirteenth Edition, he read from the cover, and looked up, brows raised. Merck seems a popular writerthat, or he makes the devil of a lot of mistakes.
Its aamedical book, I explained, beginning to get hold of myself, though little thrills of elation were still washing through me. The Merck Manual of Diagnosis and Therapy. Its a sort of compendium ofof the state of general medical knowledge.