Summary: Jamie takes his pregnant wife to the stones so she and the child can survive in the future. She is only 2 months along at this point. She returns promptly, only to find that somehow she went back too far, and has to relive her experiences...
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~~~~~
Funny thing about birthing a child; you forget the suffering you went through the last time, but when the labor starts, it bloody well comes back to you in a hurry. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, how do women bear this pain so many times? Don't get me wrong, I loved Jamie dearly, but I'd god-dammed him to hell numerous times in the throes of my travail. God in heaven, I was ever so grateful when it was over, and I held my little Titian-haired daughter, snug against my breast.
At least, at present, this was a happy occasion, not like the birth of my firstborn, Faith, who never took a breath.
*****
I was beside myself listenin' to my wife durin' her ordeal, wishin' I could trade places wi' her. I kept pacin' 'bout the sittin' room, doin' ever'thin' but sittin'. Ian tried to comfort me, pattin' a seat beside him. "All the walkin' in the world will nay make the bairn come ana sooner. Stop yer worryin'. She'll be fine, lad, and so will the child."
I fell onto the bench, hunched forward wi' my heid in my hands. My godfather came op behind me and put his hands opon my shoulders. "Listen to Ian, Jamie. He's been thru this many times afore."
Finally, I heard a bairn's cry and inhaled a needful breath. Mistress Brodie opened the door to the bedroom and bade us enter.
*****
The room was filled with family—and my midwife, Mistress Brodie, whom my husband insisted upon—to pay their respects to Jamie's first born child, I suppose. Even Murtagh was in attendance, he having arrived three days earlier to visit. I must say, the scrappy curmudgeon couldn't have timed it more perfectly. And here they all stood with mouths agape, confusion written on each face.
Murtagh turned to my perplexed Scotty. "Och ... the bairn, I swear, is the spittin' image of ye, Jamie. Mind, it was a verra long time past when I saw ye in yer mother's arms, but if I didna ken ana better, I'd say as this was yer child. The wee lassie's got the same red, curly, muckle heid such as yerself." Glancing at me a moment, he said, "Beggin' yer pardon, Sassenach."
The midwife piped up, adding to Murtagh's comment, "Aye, I was an apprentice at yer birth, lad, and I do see the resemblance. There's nay denyin' the eyes, that nose, and the hair!"
She canted her head, her eyes targeting mine. "Ye did say as this bairn was o' yer late husband, did'ye no?"
"Yes, I did."
"It's verra strange indeed; one to puzzle out for certain."
Jamie, it appeared was totally speechless. He just stared at our little miracle, and coming closer to the bed, held my hand, peppering it with kisses. Cautiously, he buzzed my cheek. I imagine he feared I would break.
