Aye, well, I suppose I could be wrong, but Ive always thought it was the night I went to your bed at the abbey. There was a tall window at the end o the hall, and I saw the stars as I came to ye. I thought it might be a sign to meto see my way clear.
For a moment, I groped among my memories. That time at the Abbey of Ste. Anne, when hed come so close to a self-chosen death, was one I seldom revisited. It had been a terrifying time. Days full of fear and confusion running from one into the next, nights black with despair and desperation. And yet when I did look back, I found a handful of vivid images, standing out like the illuminated letters on a page of ancient Latin.
Father Anselms face, pale in candlelight, his eyes warm with compassion and then the growing glow of wonder as he heard my confession. The abbots hands, touching Jamies forehead, eyes, lips, and palms, delicate as a hummingbirds touch, anointing his dying nephew with the holy chrism of Extreme Unction. The quiet of the darkened chapel where I had prayed for his life, and heard my prayer answered.
And among these moments was the night when I woke from sleep to find him standing, a pale wraith by my bed, naked and freezing, so weak he could barely walk, but filled once more with life and a stubborn determination that would never leave him.
You remember Faith, then? My hand rested lightly on my stomach, recalling. Hed never seen her, or felt her as more than random kicks and pushes from inside me.
He kissed my forehead briefly, then looked at me.
Ye ken I do. Dont you?
Yes. I just wanted you to tell me more.
Oh, I mean to. He settled himself on one elbow and gathered me in so I could share his plaid.
Do you remember that, too? I asked, pulling down the fold of cloth hed draped over me. Sharing your plaid with me, the night we met?
To keep ye from freezing? Aye. He kissed the back of my neck. It was me freezing, at the abbey. Id worn myself out tryin to walk, and ye wouldna let me eat anything, so I was starving to death, and
Oh, you know thats not true! You
Would I lie to ye, Sassenach?
Yes, you bloody would, I said. You do it all the time. But never mind that now. You were freezing and starving, and suddenly decided that instead of asking Brother Paul for a blanket or a bowl of something hot, you should stagger naked down a dark stone corridor and get in bed with me.
Some things are more important than food, Sassenach. His hand settled firmly on my arse. And finding out whether I could ever bed ye again was more important than anything else just then. I reckoned if I couldnt, Id just walk on out into the snow and not come back.
Naturally, it didnt occur to you to wait for a few more weeks and recover your strength.
Well, I was fairly sure I could walk that far leaning on the walls, and Id be doin the rest lying down, so why wait? The hand on my arse was idly stroking it now. Ye do recall the occasion.
It was like making love to a block of ice. It had been. It had also wrung my heart with tenderness, and filled me with a hope Id thought Id never know again. Though you did thaw out after a bit.
Only a bit, at first. Id just cradled him against me, trying as hard as possible to generate body heat. Id pulled off my shift, urgent to get as much skin contact as possible. I remembered the hard, sharp curve of his hipbone, the knobs of his spine, and the ridged fresh scars over them.
You werent much more than skin and bones.
I turned, drew him down beside me now, and pulled him close, wanting the reassurance of his present warmth against the chill of memory. He was warm. And alive. Very much alive.
Ye put your leg over me to keep me from falling out the bed, I remember that. He rubbed my leg slowly, and I could hear the smile in his voice, though his face was dark with the fire behind him, sparking in his hair.
It was a small bed. It had beena narrow monastic cot, scarcely large enough for one normal-sized person. And even starved as he was, hed occupied a lot of space.
I wanted to roll ye onto your back, Sassenach, but I was afraid Id pitch us both out onto the floor, and well, I wasna sure I could hold myself up.
Hed been shaking with cold and weakness. But now, I realized, probably with fear as well. I took the hand resting on my hip and raised it to my mouth, kissing his knuckles. His fingers were cold from the evening air and tightened on the warmth of mine.
You managed, I said softly, and rolled onto my back, bringing him with me.
Only just, he murmured, finding his way through the layers of quilt, plaid, shirt, and shift. He let out a long breath, and so did I. Oh, Jesus, Sassenach.
He moved, just a little.
What it felt like, he whispered. Then. To think Id never have ye again, and then
He had managed, and it was just barely.
I thoughtId do it if it was the last thing I ever did
It almost bloody was, I whispered back, and took hold of his bottom, firm and round. I really did think youd died, for a moment, until you started to move.
Thought I was going to, he said, with the breath of a laugh. Oh, God, Claire He stopped for a moment, lowered himself, and pressed his forehead against mine. Hed done it that night, too, cold-skinned and fierce with desperation, and Id felt I was breathing my own life into him then, his mouth so soft and open, smelling faintly of the ale mixed with egg that was all he could keep down.
I wanted he whispered. I wanted you. Had to have ye. But once I was inside ye, I wanted
He sighed then, deep, and moved deeper.
I thought Id die of it, then and there. And I wanted to. Wanted to gowhile I was inside ye. His voice had changed, still soft but somehow distant, detachedand I knew hed moved away from the present moment, gone back to the cold stone dark and the panic, the fear and overwhelming need.
I wanted to spill myself into ye and let that be the last I ever knew, but then I started, and I kent it wasna meant to be that waythat Id live, but that I would keep myself inside ye forever. That I was givin ye a child.
Hed come back in the speaking, back into the now and into me. I held him tight, big and solid and strong in my arms, but shaking, helpless as he gave himself up. I felt my own warm tears well up and slide down cold into my hair.
After a time, he stirred and rolled off onto his side. A big hand still rested light on my belly.
I did manage, aye? he said, and smiled a little, firelight soft on his face.
You did, I said, and, pulling the plaid back over us, I lay with him, content in the light of dying flame and eternal stars.
I did manage, aye? he said, and smiled a little, firelight soft on his face.
You did, I said, and, pulling the plaid back over us, I lay with him, content in the light of dying flame and eternal stars.
2
A Blue Wine Day
SHEER EXHAUSTION MADE ROGER sleep like the dead, in spite of the fact that the MacKenzies bed consisted of two ragged quilts that Amy Higgins had hastily dragged out of her piecework bag, these laid over a weeks worth of the Higginses dirty laundry, and the MacKenzies outer clothing used as blankets. It was a warm bed, though, with the heat of the smoored fire on one side and the body heat of two children and a snuggly wife on the other, and hed fallen into sleep like a man falling down a well, with time for no more than the briefest prayerthough a profound oneof gratitude.
We made it. Thanks.
He woke to darkness and the smell of burnt wood and a freshly used chamber pot, feeling a sudden chill behind him. He had lain down with his back to the fire but had rolled over during the night, and now saw the sullen glow of the last embers a couple of feet from his face, crimson veins in a bank of gray ash and charred wood. He put a hand behind him: Brianna was gone. There was a vague heap that must be Jem and Mandy at the far side of the quilt; the rest of the cabin was still somnolent, the air thick with heavy breathing.
Bree? he whispered, raising himself on one elbow. She was closea solid shadow with her bottom braced against the wall by the hearth, standing on one foot to pull a stocking on. She put down her foot and crouched beside him, fingers brushing his face.
Im going hunting with Da, she whispered, bending close. Mama will watch the kids if you have things to do today.
Aye. Where did ye get He ran a hand down the side of her hip; she was wearing a thick hunting shirt and loose breeches, much patched; he could feel the roughness of the stitching under his palm.
Theyre Das, she said, and kissed him, the tinge of firelight glisking in her hair. Go back to sleep. It wont be dawn for another hour.
He watched her step lightly through the bodies on the floor, boots in her hand, and a cold draft snaked through the room as the door opened and closed soundlessly behind her. Bobby Higgins said something in a sleep-slurred voice, and one of the little boys sat up, said What? in a clear, startled voice, and then flopped back into his quilt, dormant once more.
The fresh air vanished into the comfortable fug, and the cabin slept again. Roger didnt. He lay on his back, feeling peace, relief, excitement, and trepidation in roughly equal proportions.
They really had made it.
All of them. He kept counting his family, compulsively. All four of them. Here, and safe.
Fragmented memories and sensations jostled through his mind; he let them flow through him, not trying to stay them or catch more than an image here and there: the weight of a small gold bar in his sweaty hand, the lurch of his stomach when hed dropped it and seen it slide away across the tilting deck. The warm steam of parritch with whisky on it, fortification against a freezing Scottish morning. Brianna hopping carefully down a flight of stairs on one foot, the bandaged one lifted and the words of My Dame Hath a Lame, Tame Crane coming irresistibly to his mind.
The smell of Bucks hair, acrid and unwashed, as they embraced each other on the edge of a dock and a final farewell. Cold, endless, indistinguishable days and nights in the lurching hold of the Constance on their way to Charles Town, the four of them huddled in a corner behind the cargo, deafened by the smash of water against the hull, too seasick to be hungry, too tired even to be terrified, hypnotized instead by the rising water in the hold, watching it inch higher, splashing them with each sickening roll, trying to share their pitiful store of body heat to keep the kids alive