No Fate But What We Make
I patted Clarence’s side, weighed heavily with two casks of whisky, eyes keen on my giggling grandsons.
Ian had thought it humorous to give Jem and Germaine a wee dram when we arrived at the whisky spring. By the time Roger and I returned from gathering supplies from Clarence’s saddlebags, it was too late.
I’d promised Claire we would return by early afternoon. But Roger and I had agreed it wise to wait a bit until the lads could at least walk in a straight line. So the sky had already started to turn shades of orange by the time we crested the final hill, in sight of the new house.
Ian had wisely gone ahead of us at a faster pace. All the quicker to reunite with his wife and child, he had said – but Roger Mac and I knew better.
“I canna exactly tell Bree about this.” Roger sighed on my left side, shifting a spade to his other shoulder. “Fergus and Marsali wouldna mind. But Bree, weel…”
“I’m sure ye’ve come to realize during the years of yer marriage that what yer wife doesna ken, willna hurt her.” I slackened my hold on Clarence’s lead. “For the small things like this.”
“I ken. Big secrets and bad news dinna keep. But this – ”
“Look, Grand-da! There’s a horse in front of the house!”
I squinted – Jem was right. An unfamiliar horse stood, hobbled, to the right of the new house, a small pile of saddlebags neatly at his side.
“Were ye expecting anyone?”
“No. Whoever it is, he’s in the house.” I handed Clarence’s lead to Roger. “See to the mule, and the lads. I must find Claire.”
I didn’t wait for Roger to reply – only picked up the pace and strode past my grandsons, mind racing.
With the house so newly finished, we hadn’t yet received many visitors. It wasn’t John – he would have brought more than just one horse. Not a backcountry man, either – no animal pelts spilled out of the saddlebags. Soldiers always came at least in twos.
I leapt up the stairs and onto the porch, pushing the front door open. Strained voices drifted from the parlor – Claire, and Bree.
In seconds I was there – and clutched the doorframe in shock.
“Jamie – you remember Master Raymond, from Paris?”
Claire’s voice was higher pitched than usual. Dumbly I stared at the impossibly old man, wedged into a corner of the settee, legs barely touching the ground.
Master Raymond stood and bowed.
“An honor to see you again, Monsieur Fraser.”
For only the second time in my life I felt a swoon coming on.
“The honor is mine, Maître Raymond. Much has happened since last we met.”
“Indeed. I have been re-acquainting myself with Madame Fraser. It is her renown as a healer that made it easy to find you, even here in the backcountry.”
I swallowed, and slowly stepped into the room. Wordlessly I sank into the chair beside Claire’s. Her hands were clasped tightly across her knees, the knuckles white.
“I see. And I’m sure you’ve been introduced to our daughter, Brianna.”
“He met Mandy and Jenny and Rachel, too,” Bree quickly interjected from her seat beside Raymond. “Mama insisted the three of them prepare supper – for you and the other men, and for our guest.”
Raymond turned to face Claire. “Mother Hildegard was right, madonna. God did bless you with another child. And grandchildren, too.”
Pain surged through my heart – Paris, and Faith, and the soul-deep loss that had nearly destroyed my marriage. I held out my hand – and Claire gripped it, eyes steady on Raymond.
“You gave me the gift of my life.” Claire’s voice was tired, subdued. “I didn’t want it at the time – not for a long time. But I am grateful.”
“And you have this beautiful daughter.” Now Raymond turned to Bree, gently gathering her hands in his. “I called your mother ‘madonna.’ Do you know why, Brianna?”
I saw Brianna swallow, almost painfully. Mesmerized by this man.
“She’s a mother.”
“Yes, that is true. She believed the same, when I asked her this question, many years ago. But it is more than that.”
Claire squeezed my hand. Memories of Paris flashed – Jared’s house, L’Hopital, the Bois. And I realized that Claire had never told me about this exchange with Raymond.
“Everyone has a color about them.” Raymond’s words were careful, measured. “All around them, like a cloud. Your mother’s is blue, like the Virgin’s cloak.”
He paused. Glanced over to me. Returned his gaze to my daughter.
“Your father’s is red. Many years ago, before you were born, I called him the ‘red man.’”
Claire’s hand went ice cold in my grip.
“But you, Brianna – yours is blue as well. It is like my own.”
Brianna stood up, dropping Raymond’s hands.
“What do you mean?” she whispered. “Are you like us?”
“Your daughter – hers is the same color blue. The most vibrant I have ever seen.”
I knelt at Claire’s side, wrapping my arms around her as she trembled.
“Can you travel?” Brianna whispered.
Raymond sighed. “Yes, I am like you. Or more accurately, you are like me. And yes, I can walk through time. You don’t remember, but I would look in on you sometimes, on Furey Street.”
Brianna crumpled onto the settee.
“Why would you never come in?” Claire croaked, voice hoarse with emotion.
“I knew of the sacrifice you had made to save your daughter, madonna. I did not want to disrupt that life.” He twisted his gnarled fingers on his lap. “I did attend your graduation from medical school. I cannot tell you how pleased I am, Claire. You have done so much with your life.”
I struggled to find my voice. When I spoke, it sounded a bit louder and harsher than I had intended.
“Are my women yer kin, then? Is that why ye’ve taken such an – an interest in us?”
He looked at me. Those dark eyes were like staring into the void of time itself.
“Claire is a cherished granddaughter, many times over. I am privileged to have known her so closely. The purpose of my visit is to build the same bond with Claire’s descendants. And to teach them to heal, using the gift we were all born with.”
The front door creaked open. The boys ran down the hallway, heading straight for the kitchen. Within seconds Roger appeared in the doorway of the parlor, hat in his hands. His eyes darted from me, to Claire, to Bree, to Raymond – clearly the source of tension in the room.
“Pardon. I’m Roger MacKenzie – Brianna’s husband.”
Raymond smiled, ecstatic. “Brianna – he is blue, too.”
Tori