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“Six jumpers for five days. John, come on.” Nick began pulling them out of the suitcase until John stilled his hand.
“Do you not remember last year? Brianna spit up on me numerous times. They still smell vaguely sour.” John sniffed the shoulder of one and tossed it out of the suitcase. “Also,” he said, a cheeky smile growing on his face, “you said ‘jumper’. Are you becoming an Englishman?”
“God, I did, didn’t I? They wear you down with their goofy words and eventually you just find yourself saying them, too. Is that how it was for you when you moved to America?” Nick covered John’s packed clothes with his own to prevent him adding even more to it and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Oh no, not so much. We English are much more stubborn about maintaining our ways. I was born a jumper man. I will always be a jumper man.” He looked down at the suitcase as Nick clasped it shut. “How many did you leave me?”
“Four. You know, Bree is a toddler now. She won’t be spitting up and drooling all the time. Claire said in her last letter she’s even talking. Won’t that be a kick?”
Nick’s giddiness over this trip had bordered on obnoxious in the days leading up to it, but John had to admit he was finding it quite endearing at the moment. It was a new tradition, to meet Jamie and Claire and Brianna at a rental cottage near Loch Lomond in October. The first year Claire had still been pregnant, and everyone was secretly worried she’d go into labor there and there may have been one conversation over late-night whisky where John lost a bet to be the one to help deliver the baby should the need arise.
The next year involved baby Brianna who was adorable and loud and shockingly messy. It was also the year John and Nick got comfortable with seeing Claire’s breasts in the midst of breastfeeding as Brianna found it utterly charming to pop her mouth off the nipple and grin at whomever happened to be in the room while a fine spray of breastmilk arced through the air.
Last year was the year Nick realized the week they spent with the Frasers in the Highlands was fast becoming his favorite time of year. Autumn had always held some charm for him. Back in America it meant the sweat and reek of the city in summer would soon recede, replaced with the cool, crisp winds of autumn. The changing angle of the sun drew long shadows over life. But in the Highlands, it was something else beyond the natural beauty of the place. This feeling of family that he’d understood intrinsically, but never really known firsthand, blossomed in the cottage between the five of them.
Nick had told John, more than a few times, that he’d been thinking of one thing in particular he couldn’t wait to do, now that Bree was walking.
John pulled the car to a stop just outside the cottage’s front door where Claire stood, hands on hips, and eyes bright.
John leapt out and swung her around, causing her to whoop in surprise and Nick raced around to kiss her cheek.
“You look wonderful, as always,” John said, taking off his hat before a gust of wind took it away.
“Where are the other two?” Nick said, taking a deep breath of the earthy air.
“You’ll find them around the back. Up to no good, most likely.” She led them through the side gate to the back where Jamie was pulling together an enormous leaf pile while simultaneously trying to block Brianna from jumping in it just yet.
Brianna ran to them and tugged at her mother’s pants leg. “Go jump!”
“Darling, I think maybe one of our friends would like to jump with you. Do you want to ask Nick?” Claire looked over at him and laughed at his eager expression.
Brianna grabbed Nick’s finger, her red hair whipping around her face. “Nick you jump?”
Nick looked to John, his face beaming.
“Go on then,” John laughed.
Nick scooped up Brianna in his arms and ran while she giggled wildly and they leapt into the leaves.