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"I had taken no precautions. Not that there had been time — nor desire, to be honest with myself. The passion had swept us away like a raging river, and I had forgotten everything else. And it wasn't just that.
I was almost fifty. My cycles had been irregular for months before leaving Boston, and there had been times when I thought menopause was truly upon me. The chances of pregnancy were minimal, I told myself. And... even so... if it had happened?”– “The Fiery Cross”, Diana Gabaldon
This time she couldn't figure it out.
Not right away, at least.
And Jamie hadn't managed it either, and Claire was thankful for that.
Because it was too soon to tell him. Because Jamie would have gone crazy at the mere thought.
And it was definitely too soon and she didn't want to give him any hope, she didn't want to get her hopes up too.
But she was pretty sure.
Claire hadn't bothered to take precautions, contraceptives, since she'd returned to him.
Jamie had asked her. He'd asked her if it was a good idea to let passion wash over them and not worry about it. She'd told him about the pill, about the possibility that she was already in menopause, and he hadn't batted an eye.
-Pills, you said… you didn't bring any with you, when you came back?- he had asked her with a frown on his face, his typical facial expression when that 18th century Highlander was trying, trying hard, to understand the twentieth century and its thousand modern devilries.
She blushed, like a first-time teenager, and timidly replied that no, she hadn't brought a supply of pills with her.
-No-
Jamie swallowed hard, clearing the embarrassment from his throat.
-Well, why not?-
-I... well, I... I actually.. I thought… you have to keep taking them. I couldn't have brought enough. There's a permanent way, a small operation. It's fairly simple, and it makes one permanently … barren-.
Jamie had been silent.
He would accept her every decision.
Every choice. Every action.
Even if she lost her mind and killed twenty men with her bare hands, she was certain that James Fraser would support her, protect her, love her.
Ever since he held her in his arms again and swore eternal fidelity to her, Claire was certain her husband would go to Hell and beyond for her.
But she still didn't want to give him false hope.
Yet, there in that room, Claire felt a thread of hope blossom inside her.
The room was silent. Only the faint crackling of the fire in the fireplace broke the darkness. Claire was lying on her side, the covers pulled up to her chest, her body still tense from adrenaline and thoughts.
A firm hand on the abdomen, protective, almost incredulous.
-Are you really there?- she said in the darkness, barely a whisper.
She got no response, obviously, just the steady rhythm of her breathing and that subtle, new warmth that felt like an already present presence. Claire closed her eyes and continued speaking softly, as one does with dreams. With long-awaited wishes.
I don't know if you'll be able to stay, to resist. But if you do... I promise I'll fight with everything I am to keep you with me. And that I'll raise you with love, with your father by my side. Even if he doesn't know it yet.
A smile barely curved her lips. It was tender and melancholy at the same time.
After the fire at the printing shop, Jamie had insisted on staying in town for a few more weeks to finish up any unfinished business with some of his clients.
He had rented two rooms in an inn, one for them and one for Young Ian. They were no longer in a brothel, then, although Claire had to admit she was starting to feel a certain fondness for the company of the women who worked there.
The wind carried the still-fresh smell of ash into Claire's thoughts.
Even though they'd left the print shop, the echoes of the flames seemed to follow them everywhere. Every night, she saw the red light dancing on the blackened walls of the print shop, and she heard the screams: hers, Jamie's, and the fear that something might happen to Young Ian. They hadn't been able to do much, and Claire felt a pang in her heart as she saw the worry darken her husband's face.
Smuggling or not, selling wine and spirits had allowed Jamie to provide a roof over their heads during those first few weeks back together.
Did it really matter that much?
Because Claire felt safe now, with James Fraser beside her she could sleep on a battlefield again and honestly wouldn't care.
They were safe, all of them.
She and the bairn.
The inn was humble, with peeling paint and scratchy sheets. But it was quiet. And that night Claire had woken before dawn, her heart in her throat.
She'd been feeling unwell in the previous few days and had blamed it on her impending menopause. After all, she was forty-eight; Jamie would turn forty-six in about two months.
Yet her own body had spoken for her.
And she, Claire, a woman of science, had ignored the signs for weeks. She hadn't bled since February, two months after her return to the past. Chronic fatigue, firmer breasts, cramps in her lower abdomen.
A subtle uneasiness gripped her stomach. She'd realized it when she'd started suffering from morning sickness, as it had been when she was pregnant with Faith and Brianna.
A few days after the fire she woke up in that room, Jamie was still sleeping next to her, unaware of everything.
She'd gotten up quietly, dipped a cloth in the cold water from the jug, and held it to her forehead. But it wasn't a fever. It was something else. A wave of nausea had risen from her chest, suddenly, like an ancient echo.
And then she understood. Everything was clear, limpid.
She was pregnant.
She looked at herself in the chipped mirror. Her face was drawn, her eyes tired, her hair disheveled, and she cried.
She didn't want to lie to herself. She knew the risks of a pregnancy at nearly fifty. She knew that the baby could die in a few moments, that the outcome was uncertain.
But there, shivering in front of a basin of cold water, Claire Fraser had sworn to herself and her baby that she would seriously try. That she would give them a chance. She would do everything to keep him or her with her, healthy and safe in her womb until the birth.
She and Jamie hadn't even been looking for it. God, the mere fact that she had gotten pregnant, despite her advanced age, was terrifying.
La Dame Blanchè.
The woman smiled as she remembered how well-known she was in Paris. Perhaps there really was something magical about her.
After all the pain, the fear, the suffering, after twenty years without heart and soul… maybe they deserved a little joy.
Maybe she and Jamie deserved that second chance at being parents together.
__________________________________________________________________
And about a week had passed since that fateful day. She thought that part of her life was over, and instead... and instead Claire had started to be more cautious, more careful.
As she had done with all her children. Little attentions she paid to her well-being: eating more fruits and vegetables, sleeping more, taking long walks early in the morning.
She didn't want to reveal everything to Jamie and then risk a miscarriage, like with Faith. She didn't want to break her husband's heart into even more pieces.
The mere thought would have devastated him. The very possibility of losing that child, another one after baby Faith and his little Willie, would have destroyed her as well. Their marriage had barely survived the death of Faith.
Claire wasn't sure she had the mental strength to face that inhuman pain again.
She knew it was highly unlikely she would be able to carry that pregnancy to term… and yet… and yet every damn night her hand would slide over her belly and talk to that child.
About her. About Jamie. About the sisters him or she would never know. About their lives in Scotland and France.
How immensely loved it already was.
She was a doctor, and in those days spent waiting for Jamie and Young Ian to settle their affairs, Claire had certainly not been sitting idle.
She'd done some calculations and had determined the probable conception date to be February. So, now, she was probably about eight or nine weeks pregnant.
She wouldn't be able to hide it from her husband much longer. Jamie knew her well.
But she didn't even know how to tell him
They didn't have a home. They didn't have stable jobs. He was, again, wanted.
It seemed like the twenty years of separation meant nothing. That nothing had changed. Not between them, not in their lives.
Claire tossed and turned between the sheets, the golden sunlight tickling her face. She heard footsteps slowly climbing the stairs. Her heart skipped a beat, then relaxed as she recognized the rhythm.
Jamie entered the bedroom softly, careful not to make any noise, but he didn't sit next to her. He remained standing, already dressed and ready for the day.
-Sassenach?- he called her. -Are you awake?-.
Claire muttered something.
-I'll take that as a yes-
-Jamie… it's just dawn. I'm sure your clients are asleep-.
She hadn't slept much, due to nausea and agitation.
Claire sat down. Outside, Edinburgh was blanketed in a layer of sleet, the icy wind blowing relentlessly.
That really was the perfect day to be in bed together. Maybe she'd finally find the courage to tell Jamie.
But no, her husband evidently wanted to go to work.
-I think it's time to go back. That's why I woke you up early. Young Ian's already getting dressed-.
Jamie dropped two bannocks with a little honey on Claire's bed, but her stomach twisted.
-I don't think I'm hungry-
-As you wish, Sasseanch. But we have to hurry. The road is long-.
-God, Jamie, what do you have in mind?-
There was absolutely no valid reason why her husband would require her presence to sell counterfeit liquor. And the woman doubted that any Edinburgh resident would want her medical care, given that practically no one in town knew her yet.
-What do you mean?- Jamie stared at her, astonished. -It was you, Sassenach, who told me we had to take the boy to his parents-.
And then Claire understood.
They were going back home.
At Lallybroch.
__________________________________________________________________
They set out a few hours after dawn.
Claire had to get used to riding again, and they had to stop several times because she was on the verge of vomiting. Jamie was worried, but she lied and told him she had to get used to life in the eighteenth century again.
That evening they set up camp. Lallybrooch wasn't far away, just two days's walk. They would have reached it on horseback that day, but Jamie preferred to let the horses rest, so they set up camp.
The fire crackled softly, sparks flying into the cool night air. A faint scent of moorland and peat hung through the trees, while the moon filtered through the puffy clouds.
Young Ian was asleep wrapped in his blanket, curled up with his arm under his head, his breathing slow and regular.
Claire sat by the fire, her cloak wrapped around her shoulders and her hands clasped around a mug of warm broth. Jamie was beside her, one leg bent, his elbow resting on his knee, his gaze fixed on the flames.
-He's a good boy- Claire said, her face softening at the sight of her youngest nephew. -I hope Jenny doesn't go too hard on him-.
The memory of her sister-in-law's severity was vivid in her, and she suspected that their return would be anything but peaceful.
-Aye- Jamie stoked the fire with a piece of wood. -Young Ian's far too adventurous a soul for Ian and Jenny. They're worried he might follow in his wayward uncle's footsteps-.
Claire laughed softly and Jamie smiled at her, that crooked smile of his that she loved so much.
A meaningful silence fell between them. Claire looked at him, her eyes shining. Then she inhaled slowly.
-Jamie…-
He turned his face toward her.
Fire danced in Claire’s eyes, reflecting the concern she didn't express in words.
-There's something I have to tell you-
He straightened up, immediately alert.
-What's the matter, Sassenach? I hope you're not sick again-.
Claire swallowed, then looked down at her hands, at her fingers clutching the bowl of now-cold soup.
-I was wondering when the right time would be... but now, here... with you... under the stars... I think it is.-
She paused, her heart pounding.
She had to tell him and get it over with or she would never forgive herself.
-Jamie, I'm pregnant-.
The silence became thick, as if even the wind had stopped.
Jamie stared at her, motionless. A heartbeat, two. And then, his breath came out in a ragged gasp.
-Christ- he whispered, followed by a series of Gaelic curses that Claire struggled to grasp.
She looked at him, uncertain.
-I didn't know either- she tried to justify herself. -Not right away. I wasn't expecting it. But...-.
She didn't have time to finish. Jamie had raised his hands to the face of the woman he loved, his fingers trembling. Tears streamed silently down his cheeks.
He shook his head, one hand pressed to his mouth, one on her belly as if to reassure himself. Claire took it, held it tightly.
-A bairn?- he asked, his voice breaking. -Ours?-.
Claire stroked his hair, her fingers sinking into the coppery waves.
-It'll be different this time- she murmured. -We'll both be there. You won't have to miss a thing-.
Jamie looked up, his eyes shining, full of joy and wonder.
Then she laughed softly, a short, incredulous laugh, as the tears continued to flow.
Jamie leaned in and kissed her. Slow, deep, with an almost painful sweetness.
And there, by the fire, huddled together, they allowed themselves to dream.
To believe. To hope.
Among the shadows of the branches, above the quiet breathing of Young Ian, a new life had already begun to move in the silence.
A spark that would have illuminated everything.
They also went to bed. Jamie wrapped her, very delicately, in his tartan. His eyes were perpetually shining, teetering on the edge of emotional tears.
-You made me so happy, my dear. God blessed us with this miracle.-
And Claire was moved in turn to see how joyfully, how passionately her husband loved them.
Nothing had changed.
She clung to him. Safe and protected, in the warmth of Jamie's body, and she felt him lean over her. On her belly, where their miracle rested.
And then she heard that prayer in Gaelic. The same one James Fraser had used for Bree, years before.
God shield my beloved, my white dove, and the child within her. Preserve her from violence and from harm, wherever she may be, on this night and every night.
__________________________________________________________________
As Claire had predicted, their return to Lallybrooch was anything but smooth.
They hadn't hidden anything from Jenny and Ian.
Not even the bairn's.
But there was something else to deal with first. A more pressing problem needed to be solved.
Jamie was married. He was still married to Laoghaire.
The woman had gone mad when she saw them together and had brandished a rifle, trying to shoot them.
-God is my witness, I've waited years for you, Jamie Fraser! And now you go back to that witch whore of your dreams, and have a child with her too?-.
Claire and Jamie had argued about that and he had slept in the living room for three nights straight.
Why had Jamie told her about Willie right away, but kept her in the dark about Laoghaire and the girls?
When had they promised to tell each other everything? To be honest with each other about everything?
Fortunately, old Ned Gowan had come to Jamie's rescue. They had agreed to have his marriage to Laoghaire annulled, since Claire was still alive and therefore the second marriage was invalid.
And as for the girls, Marsali and Joan, Jamie promised them that he would always be their stepfather and that he would support and cherish them until the end of his days.
And then there were Ian and Jenny.
While Ian had welcomed Claire with open arms, with his usual warmth and kindness, Jenny had remained rather cold towards her sister-in-law.
-And what do you expect from me?- Jenny had blurted out one day, while they were cooking soup. -That I welcome you with open arms, as if nothing had happened? As if this child... could erase everything? Twenty years... and you come back like this. Without a word, without a clear explanation. And now... pregnant? You and that stubborn idiot I have for a brother are both reckless!-.
Then she put a decidedly excessive amount of pepper into the pot and threw the wooden spoon against the wall.
Time will tell, Claire had told herself.
If not as much as Jamie had by her side.
Jamie following her like a hawk, ready to support her, to bend down to pick her medicinal herbs for her, to watch her with so much love and devotion that Claire thought her heart would explode with all the love she felt for this extraordinary man.
However, Claire felt terribly guilty about all the fuss her arrival had caused.
Marsali and Joan kept their distance. Obviously, she was a stranger to them.
Jenny treated her extremely coldly.
The villagers had begun gossiping about her.
Mrs. Fraser, then, was truly a witch. A good witch who had returned from the fairy hill... and pregnant, to boot! At the age when one becomes a grandparent!
If I were James Fraser, I'd have that traitor whore hanged! How can he be sure the bairn is really his?
By day Claire spent her time going to the village of Broch Tuarach offering her medical knowledge as a healer, or walking in the fields and woods near Lallybrooch collecting medicinal herbs and cataloguing them.
The days were short, the evenings long.
Dinners were silent. The nights were even longer.
Claire counted the passing days. One by one. Every day passed without losses was a small personal victory.
Every pang, every dizziness, takes me back there. To the Château des Anges, with the devastating silence after the baby's cry that never came.
There was only one possibility and a thousand variables that could lead to a miscarriage.
Jamie tried to reassure her in every way.
I never asked for another bairn, Sassenach… but now that she is here, God forgive me if I couldn't bear to lose her. Or you.
But Claire felt terribly alone and afraid.
By the time Jamie decided to do something about the issue with Jenny, spring had already arrived in Lallybrooch.
__________________________________________________________________
The air still carried the humidity of winter, but the fields were slowly awakening under the livid sky.
Jamie Fraser was in the stables, bent over a crib under construction. With deft hands, he was sanding a birch plank, and each stroke of the rasp felt like a heartbeat.
The clatter of tools filled the space, until Jamie put down the rasp with a sigh, without looking back.
Jenny stood in front of him, a basket full of bannocks in her hand and a stern expression on her face.
-Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you going to say something, Janet?- he asked, giving a hint of a smile.
His sister, however, snapped.
-What the hell are you doing here at this hour? I've been looking for you for an hour! You even skipped lunch-
-I’m building the place where my daughter will sleep- Jamie replied without hesitation.
Jenny raised an eyebrow.
-Your daughter? Are you so sure about it?-
-Aye. Claire thinks it'll be a boy, but I know it'll be a girl. With curly hair like hers... and my eyes-.
His voice cracked slightly, sweetness and desire mingling in equal measure. -We'll name her Ellen. Like our mother-.
He'd said it on purpose. He knew that somehow that particular piece of information could crack her older sister's armor.
Not that it was a lie. He and Claire had spent hours arguing over what name to give that baby.
And Claire had insisted on suggesting the name Ellen for a girl. Lambert or James for a boy.
Jamie disagreed on the boys's names, but they still had four months to reach an agreement on that.
Jenny didn't answer right away. She came closer and stared at him.
-You talk as if everything were already written. But it isn't, Jamie. You know that-
The redhead slowly turned towards her, his gaze burning.
-It's my redemption, Jenny. Do you understand? I couldn't raise Brianna. She grew up in the colonies… far from me. From us. Claire told me when she came back. She raised her alone-.
-God forbid, then! Brother, that woman kept you away from your daughter. She kept us away from our niece! She could have written us a letter, letting us know she and the Brianna were fine... but no! And now...-.
-And now she's back!- he thundered. He had stood up and towered over his sister by at least forty centimeters. However, Jenny's gaze was furious. There was fire in her eyes, and Jamie instinctively stepped back.
-Claire is here now, Jenny. She's here. And she carries my bairn within her. And my sister, my own flesh and blood, barely spoke to her. You looked at her like she was a ghost-.
Jenny turned slowly, her brows furrowed.
-Because that's how she looked, Jamie. After twenty years. Twenty years of watching you rot in your skin, staring out windows as if you were waiting for the dead-.
Jamie clenched his fists.
-She wasn't dead-
-No, but it was for me. And for all of us-. Jenny stared at him steadily, unshakeably. -Do you have any idea what you've put us through? How much you've destroyed and wasted yourself for her? -.
The man shook his head forcefully. Nothing and no one could change his mind about his feelings for Claire, the love of his life. She needed the support of the entire family, the entire Fraser clan, yet it seemed everyone treated them with suspicion and had abandoned them to face this difficult pregnancy alone.
-And now she's back. And you treat her like she's a mistake.-
Jenny shook her head.
-She's not the one who's at fault. You are-
Jamie straightened, his gaze filled with disdain.
-What do you mean?-
-Jamie… you're an idiot! You only think with your cock!- she snapped, throwing the basket at him. The buns scattered everywhere. -Claire came back a few months ago. She's almost fifty. And you think it's a good idea to get her pregnant!-
It was like receiving a resounding slap in the face.
So that was the point. He was the real recipient of his sister's curses and resentment.
-It wasn't planned…-.
-It's never planned when a man doesn't stop to think! Have you thought about what could happen to her, to that bairn? Do you know what a pregnancy at that age entails? Have you considered losing her again?-.
Jamie fell silent. Pain flashed in his blue eyes.
Jenny approached, her hands clasped at her sides, her voice low.
-I saw you destroyed, Jamie. After Culloden. After Wentworth. After prison. But nothing was like those twenty years. Nothing. That's why I'm angry. Because now that you have her by your side again, you gave in to joy like a child. You acted without thinking-.
Jamie ran a shaking hand through his hair. Anger and guilt were slowly eating away at him.
-Jenny… I love her. And she loves me. It wasn't a moment of weakness, it wasn't impulsive. It just happened… and yes, it's a risk. But it's a risk we face together-.
Jenny looked at him for a long time. Then she slowly sat down on the bench next to the horses, her eyes shining.
-What if you lose her, Jamie? What if that bairn takes her life?-.
What if you lose her? What if the child is the innocent cause of his wife's grief? What if Claire ends up like their mother, Ellen? What if she dies in childbirth? Because of him? Like Geneva Dunsany has already died?
The mere thought of Willie, the son he'd never been able to raise, and of Claire, dead and pale in a bloody bed, tormented him. But he'd done his best to hide his anxieties and worries from Claire.
Because she didn't deserve it. Claire deserved all his support. And all the support Jenny could give her, too.
He approached slowly and placed his hands on his sister's shoulders. His eyes were full of fear, but also of determination.
-If that happens… I'll die too. But I can't live in fear, sister. Not after everything we've lost. This miracle child growing inside her… it's a blessing from God. And I don't want to deny it out of fear-.
Jenny looked down. Her hands rested on top of her brother's and squeezed. Her knuckles were almost white from the effort.
-It scares me. All of this scares me. I couldn't bear to see you broken again.-
Jamie placed his hand over hers.
-Then help us. Don't keep Claire away. Don't treat her like a mistake. She's… Christ, Jenny, you know how Claire is. She's scared to death, even though she's doing everything she can to keep me from seeing it. And she deserves to have a real sister by her side. She deserves your help, like she always helped you with Wee Jamie, Maggie, and Kitty. She's the mother of my bairns-.
Jenny took a deep breath. Then she nodded slightly.
-Fine. But know this, brother... if anything happens to her, I'll break your neck-.
__________________________________________________________________
That same evening Claire and Jenny were in the kitchen, as usual, and were overseeing the preparation of dinner.
There was nothing unusual about that scene. Claire, since returning, had helped Jenny and the women with dinner every single night, hoping to mend their ties.
But now, five and a half months pregnant, she was more tired than usual. She'd been standing too long: her hands swollen, her back tense, her belly clearly visible under her apron. She tried to finish chopping the vegetables for the broth, but the knife slipped slightly from her tired grip.
Jenny watched Claire for a long moment. Then, without saying anything, she approached, firmly took the knife from her hand, and placed it on the table.
-Sit down, Claire. That’s enough - she said in a softer voice than usual.
Claire sat down slowly, taken aback. Jenny poured some warm water into a bowl and brought it to her, along with a clean dishcloth.
-Put your hands in here. Your fingers are swelling like sausages- she added, without any irony.
Claire looked at her in surprise. Jenny's blue eyes, so often stern, now seemed more lucid. The woman sat down next to her, and for a few moments they didn't speak.
Was it perhaps a peace offering?
Then, in a quiet tone, Jenny said:
-Jamie talked to me. He told me you're tired. That you're trying to do everything, as if you were still young. But now you're pregnant. And it's not just any pregnancy-.
Claire bit her lip, lowering her eyes. Jenny continued:
-I know I haven’t made your life easy since you came back. And I’m not saying I’ve forgotten everything. But…- she took a deep breath. -You’re my brother’s wife. And this bairn you’re carrying is Fraser blood. My blood, too. And God knows I couldn’t bear to lose him. Or you-.
Claire couldn't answer right away. The lump in her throat was too much. Jenny placed a hand on her stomach, hesitantly, then more firmly.
-If it's a boy, as I think, he'll be stubborn like his father. But he'll listen to you. If it's a girl... well, I'll teach her how to live-. A small smile spread across her face. -But it’ll be a boy for sure. You already have Brianna-.
Claire laughed softly, hot tears streaming down her face without shame.
-Thank you, Jenny- she murmured.
-I'll make you a nettle and mint tea. It helps keep your kidneys strong, and it'll also be good for your blood- Jenny said, getting up, returning to her role as hostess, but with a new tenderness.
Claire, her hands still immersed in the warm water, realized that, for the first time in months, she felt truly welcomed. Part of the family.
-I'm sorry, Jenny. I know you love Jamie and care about him… but...-
-No buts...- her sister-in-law cut her off. She wasn't really in the mood for sweet talk, and chopping onions had brought tears to her eyes. -Jamie told me you fainted the other day. From now on, you'll have Rabbie or Fergus accompany you when you have to go to the village to heal someone-.
Claire suspected that the order came more from Jamie than his sister, but she nodded without making a fuss for once.
Anything to have her sister by her side again.
__________________________________________________________________
In the laird's chamber, in the dark of night, Jamie spent hours with his head resting on Claire's increasingly pregnant belly. He whispered Gaelic phrases, ancient songs, stories of his childhood and of their love to their unborn child.
Jamie remained there, his face pressed against her belly, his voice drifting into an old Gaelic lullaby, his nose gently nuzzling the skin as the baby moved just beneath the surface. Claire's hands tenderly caressed his red hair.
-Are you scared?- she asked him suddenly.
That single question was enough to make the man look up.
-Aye- he admitted, cocking his head. His blue eyes glittered in the darkness. -Every second of every day. I'm afraid something might happen to you, and to the bairn. The same thing that happened to her sister, Faith-
Claire held her breath. She knew. It was a fear they shared.
But her belly was growing, despite her worries. She was now in her seventh month. Jenny seemed to have finally buried the hatchet, and had brought her some herbal tea.
Everything was falling into place. Like puzzle pieces finally falling into place. Slowly.
-Marsali and Fergus have been spending a lot of time together lately-.
She changed the subject on purpose.
-Mmm- Jamie grunted.
-You know, they remind me of us. Just a little bit-
-Aye… a little- he said -but I'm not sure the lad really knows how to court a woman. He hasn't seen me with many women in recent years-.
Claire smiled, her gaze full of love.
-He's such a good man Jamie, just like his father-.
-Aye, he is-.
A movement from the little one, a little kick and Jamie jumped, pressing two fingers on the exact spot where it had come from.
-Calm down wee lassie, mommy needs to rest here- he kissed her belly and heard Claire sigh.
These last few months had been terribly hard for her. She'd only been home for eight months, and in a short time, she'd found herself pregnant—her own fault. Her own recklessness.
-Who says it'll be a girl?- Claire stared at him with a concentrated expression on her face. -Because Jenny and I have decided he'll be a boy-.
Jamie grunted, and made a Scottish sound that sounded like a disapproving grunt.
-Woman, you said the same thing about Brianna. And she's not a boy, as far as I know-.
Brianna. Yeah. Claire's mind played tricks on her sometimes.
She was already a mother. She had had Faith, for a few hours. And she had had Bree, she still had Bree. A daughter in the future who will never know she's become a big sister. A sudden wave of nostalgia washed over her. Her eyes immediately filled with tears.
Damn hormones!
Jamie sensed it right away.
-I didn't mean to make you sad now, chridhe-
-You didn’t- the woman clasped their hands together, reassuring him.
-Maybe this baby will be born on your birthday. Could it be, right? You said that if it was conceived- he corrected himself and smiled at the pride on his wife's face at having used a medical term correctly, -in February. It's September now. Not long now. So, maybe it'll be possible. It should be born in November. Right?-
Claire frowned, concentrating. The baby's forceful kicks were clouding her mind. She took Jamie's hand and moved it to the exact spot where their bairn was kicking like crazy.
-Calm him down- she begged, and Jamie smiled.
Claire could only remain silent. Birthday or not, October 20th would have been her 49th.
Often, at night, when Jamie was asleep, she would lie awake with her hands on her belly, feeling the slight movements and praying for the imminent birth. Sometimes she would cry silently, stifling her sobs.
It was schizophrenic to think. She would give birth to that long-awaited child, born from the pure and sincere love of her true love.
Without Brianna, without Joe, without Frank.
Had things really changed that much in twenty years?
Would she have been able to survive childbirth? Give that child a stable life, when violence and uncertainty still reigned in Scotland? Would the bairn survive? Would he be born healthy?
Because her husband was right. It was really close.
A little more and they would have met their miracle.
Their bundle of joy.
__________________________________________________________________
Giving birth wouldn't be easy, and Claire had always known that.
The pain was a tide that rose and fell, relentlessly. Wave after wave, each contraction sucked her into a vortex of spasms and held breath, leaving her suspended, empty and trembling, for a few moments of respite.
Claire had given birth before. She had known this pain, she had faced it. But this time… this time was different.
She was almost fifty. Her body was tired, worn out by a journey through time, by a life lived across centuries, by losses, wars, and battles.
And now she was facing the most primal and powerful of all: giving life.
Her waters had broken suddenly while she was in the library with Jenny and Marsali. The due date, according to her calculations, was November 7th, but evidently her son had already made up his mind and wouldn't listen to reason.
A Fraser, definitely.
And on the afternoon of October 29, 1767, a pool of blood and mucus soaked the wooden floor of the Lallybrooch library.
A shiver ran down her spine. Then, suddenly, a sudden, moist heat between her thighs.
-Jenny! Jenny!- Claire shouted, and in an instant, her sister-in-law was at her side.
-Damn it, Claire! It's about time!- she shrieked excitedly. -Marsali! Marsali! God, go get Fergus and tell him to find Jamie! Right now lass!-.
Jenny had supported her and helped her up the flight of stairs to the laird's bedroom.
-All my children were born here, sister- she told her softly, -and now my nephew will come into the world here too!-.
Claire nodded.
Giving birth to her third child wouldn't take long, but given her age, Claire had suspected the initial stages would be slower than expected.
Mrs. Innes, the new midwife who had helped Jenny deliver Young Ian seventeen years earlier, was unceremonious, and her deft fingers quickly inspected Claire.
-It shouldn't take too long, ma'am. You'll have your heir by dawn tomorrow- she asserted with conviction, but Claire didn't hear a word.
Her eyes scanned the room which seemed immensely empty without Jamie at her side.
-Where the hell did he go?- she asked through gritted teeth, and Jenny glanced nervously at the wooden door. She shook her sister-in-law's hand wordlessly and rubbed a compress soaked in water and ointment on her forehead.
Another two hours passed. By now, the autumn darkness had descended upon them. Jenny left Claire to light candles, but didn't go downstairs to eat with the others. A delicious smell wafted from the kitchen: pork, ham, and roast potatoes, mingled with the sweet aroma of pumpkin pie.
But the smell of the food made Claire gag. Now she was really getting worried.
And then, suddenly, she heard the sound of running footsteps in the hallway, the heavy echo of muddy boots. The door swung open, and Jamie burst in, his breath ragged, his face covered in sweat and dirt. He was still wearing his field shirt, his skin flushed from the cold, and his heart, his heart, in his eyes.
-Claire!- his voice cut through the silence like a blade. His eyes, always alert and caring, were now a deep blue, filled with anxiety and terror.
-Jesus Christ, Jenny! You should have called me sooner!-
He was out of breath.
-Me!- Jenny thundered, immediately getting heated. -It’s you and that idiot husband of mine, God forbid you’re always talking nonsense!-. The little woman left Claire’s side and went straight for her brother, hitting him in the face with a dishcloth.
-Now get that filth off you and wish your wife good luck, James Fraser!-.
Flushed with embarrassment, the man opened his mouth to retort, but a gasp from Claire quickly made Jamie forget the affront. In no time, he had shed his boots and overcoat, leaving him only in his trousers and white shirt.
-I'll be right there- he gave his sister a furious look and rushed to shake Claire's hand, kissing her face over and over again.
-Sorry… I’m sorry- he whispered so softly that only she could hear. -Ian and I had to finish… collecting the rent, and when I saw Fergus running toward us, it was already late at night. And then it started raining and…-.
-It doesn't matter… it doesn't matter- Claire leaned against him as if he were a raft in a stormy sea. She squeezed his hand so hard she feared it would break, but Jamie squeezed her even tighter and kissed her on the head, caressing her back.
-You’re here now- Claire sobbed.
Now that she was in her husband's arms, it was as if the rest of the world had disappeared and only the two of them existed.
Mrs. Innes bowed slightly to Jamie.
-Laird Broch Tuarach, you should go with the other men now. His wife can start pushing, and in less than two hours you will have your heir-.
-Aye! I don’t think so!- Jamie squeezed Claire’s hand even tighter, supporting her back.
-Jamie, don’t be ridiculous!- Jenny tried to pull him by the arm, but her brother was inexorably taller and stronger than her.
-My wife has requested my presence, and I will be by her side if she allows me. I want to see my bairn’s birth, if you will, sister.-.
Then the man looked around the room. There were a single basin and two rags, both already stained with blood.
-Did you wash your hands before touching my wife?- he asked authoritatively.
Mrs. Innes sighed: it was certainly unusual for a patient's husband to make demands during labor. Although it was decidedly less uncommon for a man to choose to stay with his wife during childbirth. But James Fraser was also the master of those lands, their protector. So the midwife simply rinsed her hands again and dried them on a linden cloth she held at her waist.
-Jenny, make sure you bring another basin of clean water when the baby is born. And some clean clothes. I don't want my child to come into contact with blood and dirt-.
Claire's heart sank.
He had remembered. He always remembered.
She cast a pained look at her sister-in-law: Jenny was standing, hands on hips and frowning.
-Oh well- the little dark-haired woman grimaced, -but if you faint, don’t expect special treatment, Laird Broch Tuarach!-.
Claire sighed with relief. Jamie was smart enough not to react to his sister's insult, but carefully and thoughtfully bent down to help his wife. He lifted her and eased her back onto the pillows, then kissed her face and ran a hand through her soaking-dirty hair.
She leaned completely against him, as if only his presence could save her.
-Jamie…-
He took her hand. It was cold. He brought it to his lips, desperate.
-I'm here now nighean donn. I'm here…-.
-Jamie…- Claire sobbed, broken. -I'm scared-.
She was terrified and she knew Jamie was too, but he smiled at her.
-I know. I know, mo chridhe… I love you- he caressed her softly, his face streaked with tears and dirt.
I love you. He wanted her to know, to hear those words in that moment, so important to them. Because they were afraid, terrified that that night might end sadly.
She squeezed his hand with desperate strength.
-If you have to choose… if something happens… you have to save him. The baby. Not me-.
Jamie turned pale. His hands shook.
He had dreaded that moment. But he couldn't promise her anything; he would destroy himself for her.
Claire would have survived. The bairn would have been born alive.
That's how it was supposed to be.
-No. Don't ask me anything-
-Jamie, please…- Claire whispered. -If you have to choose…-
-I can't. I don't want to. Claire… you're my life. I can't even imagine…-
I can bear pain myself, but I could not bear yours. That would take more strength than I have.
But she interrupted him with a cry of pain, another contraction overwhelming her. Jenny bent over, attentive.
-It's coming! Jamie, hold her tight. Claire, now push!-.
Time passed inexorably. Night had now fallen over them.
Claire screamed. It was a visceral, primal sound. Jamie was holding her back, whispering Gaelic words in her ear, his face distorted with fear. And Claire pushed.
Once. Twice. Three. Ten. Twenty.
The screams pierced the night.
Claire’s heart exploded in her chest, every fiber of her body screamed, her hip bones shook, a dull ache shot up her spine. Everything in her begged her to stop, but she couldn't.
Claire gasped, clutching the sweat-soaked sheets between her fingers.
-I can't do it… Jamie, I can't do it…-
-Yes, you can. You're the strongest woman I've ever met- he whispered to her.
But Claire shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. Her vision was blurry, her face was damp, her belly was burning.
-It's too much… it's too late… it's too risky-
The contractions were now continuous, violent, and breathless. Jenny's hands were expert, but even she seemed more tense than usual.
Claire sensed it. Something was wrong. The baby was big. And she, fragile.
-It's… God damn it… damn your fucking Scottish sperm!-.
Just a few more pushes… one more.
Then the world stopped.
A new sound. A cry. High-pitched. Alive.
Jamie held his breath.
Mrs. Innes took the newborn baby in her arms, her hands expert and quick.
-There you go, Lady Broch Tuarach. Did you see? It wasn't that difficult-.
Claire collapsed, exhausted. Sweat dripped from her temples, her eyes closed. Jamie was already on top of her, kissing her everywhere: her forehead, her cheeks, her fingers.
The pain had disappeared, dissolved the exact moment her bairn had arrived on Earth side, slipped from her warm womb into that world, made up of people and places who already loved him immensely.
Jamie continued to cry and whispered Gaelic words in her ear.
-You did it... you did it mo chridle-.
Jenny leaned forward and wiped a wet cloth over the newborn's wrinkled body.
Then she gently placed him on his mother's chest.
-You did a good job, my sister. You have a strong, healthy wee laddie-.
A wee laddie?
A boy. After two perfect lassies, now they had a baby boy.
And Claire burst into tears. Her eyes were clouded with tears, and she looked at that tiny face with awe.
Jamie looked at them as if he were witnessing a sacred vision. Slowly, he knelt beside the bed and rested his forehead on Claire's now-empty belly, trembling.
-Sassenach, look what we've done! Our miracle. I love you more than I love my soul-
Claire kissed him passionately, pulling him close, while cradling their youngest child to her chest.
And as the newborn moved slowly on her chest, between the stained blankets and the silence broken by a new cry, Claire Fraser knew with solid certainty that her world, from now on, would never have the same meaning again.
__________________________________________________________________
The sun had just risen, casting a golden light on the fogged glass of their bedroom window.
It had rained all night until early morning and the back garden at Lallybrooch was soaked with mud and dry leaves.
The silence of the room was broken only by the soft crackling of the fire in the fireplace and the regular breathing of the newborn sleeping on her chest.
The room was filled with the scent of aromatic herbs, blessed by the village priest. Jenny had thrown them, along with a pinch of salt, into the fireplace to ward off evil spirits and bless the house for new life.
They were alone, finally.
Claire was exhausted, sweaty, disheveled, and beautiful. The baby was resting on her chest. Jamie was kneeling beside her on the bed, his fingers intertwined with hers.
She had held Jamie's hand for hours, screamed, cried, struggled with a tired, no-longer-youthful body. But now, in the silence that follows the miracle, the woman held in her arms a warm, moist newborn baby, who had just stopped crying.
She and Jamie had been silent and hadn't said anything. Because there was nothing to say.
Jenny had ran downstairs and brought Claire bread and cheese, a bowl of beaten egg, and a glass of whiskey, which the woman politely declined. She then announced to the tenants that on October 29, 1767, at 11:48 PM, Laird James Fraser and his wife had given birth to a son.
The shouts of joy could be heard all the way to the laird's bedroom.
But Claire hadn't even noticed.
She couldn't stop looking at him.
To observe every little detail of her son.
Her precious son.
Arrived safe and sound in her arms.
The wee laddie had fine, dark hair, but with copper highlights visible only in the sunlight, a clear sign of his father.
His eyes were a deep blue, the typical color of newborns, but they already revealed an unexpected depth.
He had large hands, strong fingers gripping hers and Jamie's with determination.
His nose was straight and delicate, like Claire's, while his chin was sharp, very similar to Jamie's.
His ears, slightly protruding, were identical to Jenny's, a fact Jamie noted with a laugh. The baby’s skin was smooth and warm, his long eyelashes shadowing his rounded cheekbones.
Every detail was a small miracle, that was Claire only thought.
The tiny fingers clinging to hers, the steady beat of her heart against his... it was perfect.
Incredibly, inexplicably perfect.
-How can you be so beautiful?- Claire whispered, her fingertips brushing the baby's velvety cheek. Then she saw a patch of lighter skin, dotted with freckles on her son’s face: those were the Beauchamps's legacy, no doubt.
She had seen many newborn babies, but this one, this one, was hers.
Her’s and Jamie's.
Our perfect wee laddie.
A part of her and a part of Jamie. A child born of love, despite everything.
Jamie hadn't changed position. His imposing body bent forward, his face still streaked with tears dried too quickly. He watched his wife and his son in silence, as if he too feared breaking the spell.
-He’s beautiful because he comes from you- Jamie said softly, his voice hoarse. -And why wouldn’t he be? He’s a Fraser-.
Claire smiled, but felt a lump in her throat.
She'd had children before. She'd lost a daughter. She'd had Brianna. But this... this child was something different. Not just a child: he was a possibility.
A chance she thought she no longer had.
She couldn't look away. Every breath the newborn took was a revelation.
Claire had already counted the baby’s fingers. And his toes. She'd gently touched the tufts of dark red copper hair, the thin eyelids, the plump cheeks.
But it still didn't seem real. And then she was just afraid of waking him, of touching him. Of breaking the silent spell that held that little, delicate bundle of joy in her arms.
-I thought I couldn't do it anymore... that my time was up. And instead...- Claire looked at Jamie, her eyes shining, incredulous and moved -...I can raise him with you-.
Jamie moved then. He took her hand gently, his strong fingers closing around hers with an imperceptible tremor.
-Aye, mo nighean donn- he murmured. -We will raise our laddie, together. Every day. We will watch him walk, talk... grow. Together-.
Together. Together forever.
Jamie’s lips trembled as he reached out to the little one, his large, calloused fingers brushing the newborn's smooth, reddened cheek with infinite delicacy.
Then the baby grimaced in his sleep and frowned, just like Jamie did when he was concentrating on something.
A faint cry alerted both parents that the little laird was demanding his soup.
No sooner said than done.
Claire quickly undid her slip and held the newborn against her, guiding him with her fingers.
He was still wet and warm, and he let out a sharp whimper, but then, as soon as he heard the familiar beat of his mother's heart, he calmed down. He instinctively reached for her breast, hungry and driven by a primal instinct. Claire, tired but calm, guided him gently, and he latched on with surprising strength.
The woman laughed softly, her tears mixed with joy and tiredness.
Jamie stared at them, spellbound.
-Aye, he didn't waste any time, this wee laddie… God Claire, look what we did-.
Claire sighed, her eyes full of wonder.
-He needs a name, though- she pointed out to her husband, and Jamie snorted and stood up.
That bairn had been born for five hours and she and Jamie had kept calling him an endless series of nicknames just because they were both so damn stubborn and they hadn't settled on an official name yet.
Mo ghràdh beag, mò mhic beag, m'annsachd, a leannan, mò chridhe, wee laddie, wee laird.
-I guess you don't want to name him Henry, like your father-.
Jamie looked at her with both hands on his hips.
It was clear that for him it was a matter of honor, but Claire did not want to give in on the name for their son.
She shook her head decisively.
-Jamie, we've already talked about this… I never liked that name-
-But that’s your father’s name- he pointed out sweetly.
-But he doesn't have a Henry's face-
-We already have Brianna… like my father Brian. And I think it's right to honor your family too Sassenach, as long as you don't propose your uncle Lambert's name for the hundredth time-.
Claire raised both eyebrows and gave her husband an eloquent look.
-And we won’t taking a name from your dead uncles neither. Because we won't call him Colum or Dougal if that's what you think, darling-
-All right- the man sighed and, this time, knelt on the floor, next to his wife and son. -But we won't call him James, as you wish! There can't be two James Frasers, and I won't force it on my son. That name means big trouble...-.
Claire laughed. The baby had now released himself and was resting on her breast, clearly milk-drenched and satisfied.
-Well, then what name do you suggest, James Fraser?-.
Jamie looked at her seriously and cocked his head to the side.
Claire knew that look: Jamie had already decided on the perfect name.
-Alexander, like my good uncle- he said. -My great-uncle, actually. Alexander Fraser was the brother of my grandfather Simon Fraser of Lovat, the old fox. But unlike him, Alexander was a real man. That's why my mother wanted to give me Alexander as a middle name. And it comes from the Greek for "defender of men." He's a bonnie wee laddie, strong and healthy. It suits him perfectly- he concluded, looking at the newborn with a proud look on his face.
Sawny.
Like his older brother William called him.
Claire stared at her husband in silence, then looked back at the newborn.
-Alexander James Fraser, you are our love, my love- Claire whispered, her voice cracking with fatigue and emotion. -And your name is yours-.
Jamie swallowed hard. Tears streamed down his face, unashamed.
-Sander- he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. -Mo mhac, my little warrior. A chuisle. He's... a gift from God, Sassenach. I don't deserve him. But... thank you. For giving me another bairn. For staying with me-
Claire brought her face close to his and kissed him passionately.
Their newborn son held tightly in their embrace.
And as Alexander James moved slowly in her arms, letting out a small, satisfied moan, Claire let herself go, lulled by that impossible scene: a husband she loved more than her own life, a living son in her arms, and a future that, against all odds, had begun to shine again.