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[Excerpt from GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE, Copyright © 2020 by Diana Gabaldon]
Brianna and the kids slept like the dead, sprawled on the floor of the loft like victims of some sudden plague, fallen where they lay among the barrels of varnish and lampblack and the stacks of books and pamphlets.
In spite of the long day, the emotional reunion and the impressive amount of wine drunk, Roger found himself unwilling to fall asleep at once. Not unable; he could still feel the vibration of the wagon and the reins in his hands, and a sort of hypnosis lurked in the back of his mind, urging him to drop into a slow-moving swirl of rice paddies and circling birds, cobbled streets and tree leaves moving like smoke in the dusk. But he held back, wanting to keep this moment for as long as he could.
Destination. Destiny, if he could bring himself to think such a thing. Did normal people, ordinary people, have a destiny? It seemed immodest to think he did—but he was a minister of God; that was exactly what he believed: that every human soul had a destiny, and had a duty to find and fulfill it. Just at this moment, he felt the weight of the precious trust he held, and wanted never to let go of the great sense of peace that filled him.
But the flesh is weak, and without his making any conscious decision to do so, he dissolved quietly into the night, the breath of his wife and his sleeping children, the damped fire below and the sounds of the distant marshes.
Go to my official webpage for GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE for more information about this book and links to more Daily Lines (excerpts).
Many thanks to Kate Davis for this beautiful bee photo!
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This excerpt (“Daily Lines”) was also posted on my official Facebook page on November 20, 2020.