Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, married for 50 years, were considered to be Hollywood’s “golden couple”. Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe, the leads of Outlander, claim they are not a couple. What do they have in common?
Apparently a lot based on the pictures below. From how they met (acting opposite one
another), to their undeniable chemistry on and off set, to their interactions when
together (the looks, the laughs, the mirroring), the similarities can’t be denied. (The relationship timelines for both
couples even include a fauxgagement.)
Full disclosure: I am steadfast in my belief (dare I say knowledge?) that Sam & Cait are together. But whether you still believe they are together or no
longer do, whether you’re sad or angry
or tired on their behalf and/or your own, I hope that these pictures bring at
least some measure of joy to you and your dashboard today.
Note: Because this post is long and image-heavy, I will put half of it under a cut.
“He’s very good looking and very sexy and all of those
things, but all of that goes out the window and what is finally left is, if you
can make somebody laugh. And
he sure does keep me laughing.” ~ Joanne Woodward
“Anyone can be passionate but it takes real lovers to be silly.” ~ Rose Franken, writer
The best thing to hold onto in
life is each other. ~ Audrey Hepburn
“One time, I was walking between the main buildings and
looked over to a bench where I saw a woman and her husband. The woman was
sitting with the husband’s head on her lap as he lay down. You could just see
the love as she ran her hand over his head and hair. I thought at that time,
‘My, what a handsome couple. Isn’t it nice that this older couple cares so much
for each other? It just radiates. This is just such a wonderful
sight.’ ~ An Arizona museum employee on Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward
The entire world was in love with
her, so there was no mystery why I loved her too. The magic was in how she sifted
through all that adoration and found me to love back. ~ Leo Christopher
The drunken stupor Jamie had descended into for the voyage was wearing off. It was a much longer journey to cross the North Sea than crossing the Channel, but he couldn’t set foot in France. Not under the terms of his release from the Bastille. Yet that was where he’d sent Claire. A week before Culloden was due to be fought, he’d charged her and Fergus with bringing that deed of sasine to Lallybroch to ensure the estate and his people were protected.
He’d known, then, that Claire was pregnant, but they hadn’t spoken of it—he wasn’t even sure she’d realized it herself in the confusion and hardship of those final weeks. If he’d said anything, if they’d talked about it at all, he wasn’t sure he could have signed those papers, whatever the consequences.
Lallybroch belonged to the child she carried and he was giving it away. By not speaking of it, he could pretend long enough to do what was necessary. Which meant not just signing Lallybroch away, but sending Claire away too.
She’d fought the idea, tried to argue him out of it. He used the threat of the stones to back her down—another thing for him to chastise himself over. If she wouldn’t go before Culloden and things went badly, the only way she would be able to escape to safety would be through the stones, so conveniently located near the as-yet-unchristened battlefield. And what about Fergus? Indeed, he’d used the guilt of their adopted son, too. Anything to get her and their unborn child somewhere safe.
So she’d relented. To Lallybroch and then along the coast until they could find a port to sail for France. An Englishwoman and a French boy would raise none of the alarms that a Scot might. They would be safe and together. He wished he could have sent Murtagh with them, but a single glance to his godfather had killed those hopes.
Grief and regret swept through him, carrying the last of the liquor-filled haze away with it. He clung to the railing as he leaned over the side and spilled the contents of his stomach into the sea. When his dry heaving subsided for a few minutes, he lowered himself to the deck, leaning against the barrier between himself and the oblivion of the waves.
Perhaps it would be easier to swim the rest of the way. He felt as though he’d have as good a chance of surviving the ordeal as waiting out the voyage with no relief from the seasickness.
No. Focus his mind on something other than his stomach. Claire.
He ran through the plan he devised for finding her. Arrive in Amsterdam. Find accommodations and employment. Send letters to Mother Hildegarde, to Louise de La Tour, and perhaps even to his cousin, Jared.
Those were the only people he could conceive of Claire turning to for assistance upon arriving in France.
Fear ate at him. She should have sent word to Lallybroch of their safe arrival in France. Perhaps it was only that she considered it too soon to be safe? Or had she send word only for it to be intercepted? If so, would that put Jenny and Ian and Lallybroch at risk?
It had been three months since the battle but the English forces were still roaming and punishing, snuffing out what little fight might remain in the Highlands. It had been chance alone that he’d survived at all.
He pressed his fist to his thigh, dull pain radiating from the still-healing wound. Jenny had cursed quietly to herself as she fought the fever raging within him, lamenting the fact that Claire hadn’t simply stayed with them and waited out the fighting. He didn’t tell her that Claire would have decided to continue on as soon as she realized she was pregnant. She had done what she could to prepare Lallybroch and its people for the difficulties ahead, but she wouldn’t add additional mouths to feed if she could help it. She wouldn’t submit their unborn child or Fergus to the threat of going hungry or the fear of the English soldiers roaming the countryside and seeking revenge.
She would go to someone she trusted, someone familiar. He would bet money on Mother Hildegarde. After the trial of losing Faith… He was confident Claire would seek counsel from her. Perhaps the old nun would have connections who could aid Claire rather than force her to seek assistance from the Jacobites in exile.
Jamie closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the rail, willing the nausea back down and knowing it wouldn’t work. He’d be on his knees trying to make it over the rail within the next few minutes.
But he would survive this. He would make it work and find Claire and they would figure out what to do together. Preferably somewhere on the continent because he couldn’t bear the thought of getting on another ship once he’d left this one behind.
Tori