An Eighteenth Century April Fool’s Day 

Being married to John was different, to say the least.  We had friendship, but even that seemed to be strained under the circumstances.  I just couldn’t believe that Jamie was dead.  It wasn’t that I was in denial; I didn’t know what to think.
The morning was bright, sunlight streaming in through the bedroom windows upstairs.  John was still sleeping, so I got up quietly and went down to make myself some tea.  I sat down at the table and tried to make sense of everything that had happened.  Ian was dead, that much I could believe.  As soon as I saw him, I knew he wouldn’t last much longer.  But now … No, Jamie wasn’t dead. I didn’t know how I knew, I just did.  However, I’d play along until I had some sort of proof.

John came down fully dressed a while later and greeted me cordially.

“Going somewhere?” I inquired.

“Not particularly, but I like to be prepared.  Anything could happen, what with the ‘revolution’ going on and all.”

As soon as he spoke the last word, there was a knock at the front door.  One of the servants went open it.

“Is Lord Grey in?  I’m a friend of his,” a voice came from the door.  I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall.  And he was standing there in front of us.

“Ja-” Grey stammered.  “I thought you were -”

“Ye thought I was dead?” Jamie finished bluntly.  “Haha, well, April Fool’s mis putas!”

I was shocked, but not surprised.  I knew he’d be alright.  Finding the energy to move, time seemed to slow down as I ran toward him, jumping in his arms.  He caught me and we kissed fiercely.

“Mis putas?” I whispered in his ear.

“Roughly ‘my bitches’ in Spanish.”

I pulled back and looked at him quizzically.

“I kid, Sassenach, I kid.” He set me down and turned his attention to Grey, while I turned my attention to Jenny, whom I hadn’t noticed there before.

“Claire,” she began.

“It’s alright, Jenny, it’s alright,” I said, pulling her into a hug.

“I didn’t mean -” she tried again.

“I know.  I forgive you.”

I said goodbye to John, left some instructions as to the post-surgery care of his nephew, Henry, and Jamie, Jenny, and I took our leave of the Grey residence, headed toward Fraser’s Ridge.


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