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“Lie down,” I said firmly, and pointed to my lap.
“Nay, I’ll be f—”
“I don’t care whether you’re fine or not,” I said. “I said, lie down.”
“I’ve work to—”
“You’ll be flat on your face in another minute,” I said. “Lie. Down.”
He opened his mouth, but a spasm of pain made him shut his eyes, and he couldn’t locate any words with which to argue. He swallowed, opened his eyes, and sat down beside me, very gingerly. He was breathing slowly and shallowly, as though drawing a deep breath might make things worse.
I stood up, took his shoulders and turned him gently so I could reach his plait. I undid his ribbon and unraveled the thick strands of auburn hair. It still was mostly red, though soft white threads caught the light here and there.
“Down,” I said again, sitting and pulling his shoulders toward me. He moaned a little, but stopped resisting and lowered himself very slowly, ’til his head rested heavy in my lap. I touched his face, my fingers feather-light on his skin, tracing the bones and hollows, temples and orbits, cheekbones and jaw. Then I slid my fingers into the soft mass of his hair, warm in my hands, and did the same to his scalp. He let out his breath, carefully, and I felt his body loosen, growing heavier as he relaxed.
“Where does it hurt?” I murmured, making very light circles round his temples with my thumbs. “Here?”
“Aye… but…” He put up a hand, blindly, and cupped it over his right eye. “It feels like an arrow—straight through into my brain.”
“Mmm.” I pressed my thumb gently round the bony orbit of the eye, and slid my other hand under his head, probing the base of his skull. I could feel the muscles knotted there, hard as walnuts under the skin. “Well, then.”
I took my hands away and he let his breath out.
“It won’t hurt,” I reassured him, reaching for the jar of blue ointment.
“It does hurt,” he said, and squinched his eyelids as a fresh spasm seized him.
“I know.” I unlidded the jar, but let it stand, the sharp fragrance of peppermint, camphor and green peppercorns scenting the air. “I’ll make it better.”
He didn’t make any reply, but settled himself as I began to massage the ointment gently into his neck, the base of his skull, the skin of his forehead and temples. I couldn’t use the ointment so close to his eye, but put a dab under his nose, and he took a slow, deep breath. I’d make a cool poultice for the eye when I’d finished. For now, though…
“Do you remember,” I said, my voice low and quiet. “Telling me once about visiting Bird Who Sings in the Morning? And how his mother came and combed your hair?”
“Aye,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “She said… she would comb the snakes from my hair.” Another hesitation. “She… did.”
Clearly he did remember—and so did I recall what he’d told me about it. How she’d gently combed his hair, over and over, while he told her—in a language she didn’t speak—the trouble in his heart. Guilt, distress… and the forgotten faces of the men he’d killed.
There is a spot, just where the zygomatic arch joins the maxilla, where the nerves are often inflamed and sensitive….yes, just there. I pressed my thumb gently up into the spot and he gasped and stiffened a little. I put my other hand on his shoulder.
“Shh. Breathe.”
His breath came with a small moan, but he did. I held the spot, pressing harder, moving my thumb just a little, and after a long moment, felt the spot warm and seem to melt under my touch. He felt it too, and his body relaxed again.
“Let me do that for you,” I said softly. The wooden comb he’d made me sat on the little table beside the jar of ointment. With one hand still on his shoulder, I picked it up.
“I… no, I dinna want…” But I was drawing the comb softly through his hair, the wooden teeth gentle against his skin. Over and over, very slowly.
I didn’t say anything for quite some time. He breathed. The light came in low now, the color of wildflower honey, and he was warm in my hands, the weight of him heavy in my lap.
“Tell me,” I said to him at last, in a whisper no louder than the breeze through the open window. “I don’t need to know, but you need to tell me. Say it in Gaelic, or Italian or German—some language I don’t understand, if that’s better. But say it.”
His breath came a little faster and he tightened, but I went on combing, in long, even strokes that swept over his head and laid his hair untangled in a soft, gleaming mass over my thigh. After a moment, he opened his eyes, dark and half-focused.
“Sassenach?” he said softly.
“Mm?”
“I dinna ken any language that I think ye wouldna understand.”
He breathed once more, closed his eyes, and began haltingly to speak, his voice soft as the beating of my heart.
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I also posted this excerpt (“Daily Lines”) from GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE, Book Nine of my OUTLANDER series of novels, on my official Facebook page on January 11, 2018.
Oh my. This is exactly why I have returned to these stories for over 20 years. I, too, remember the bit with Bird Who Sings in the Morning speaking of combing out the snakes; it has helped me often. Thank you so much for this and Happy Birthday.
Dear Barbara–
Thank you!
–Diana
Lovely moment.
I’m instantly take away with the first line I read. For me its like jumping into a scene of a movie. Thank you
Dear Tim–
So pleased you feel that way! Thank you !
–Diana
thank you! Can’t wait; it’s beautiful.
Thank you–glad you like it!
–Diana
Happy belated Birthday! And, thank you for the gift”)
Thank you!
I have a short ( I hope) very personal story.
When reading the book about Claire and Jammie, there is the part about Claire at the Stone Henge site after Jammie dropped her there expecting het to return to the time and place she came from. She was struggling what to do. She did return to Jammie after a time.
Here is where it gets personal!
When I was ten, along with my sister (11 years, )and brother, (15 years), my mother died from canser. We still had my father. I never had shown much emotion at the time of my mother’s passing. When I was reading the paragraph with the internal struggle both characters were having, something inside me snapped. All I could do was to cry and call for my wife of 42 years and hold on tight! Reading that part of the story was the catalyst to the hurt I had’nt been able to resolve. It’s amazing what catalyst it takes to release a deep hurt!
I thank you from the bottom of my hart for the unintended release your book helped me with!
Sincerely ,
Dick Morrissette
Dear Dick–
Thank you so much for sharing your lovely, moving personal story. You’re right–you never know what small thing can unlock a memory, a feeling, or urgent emotion. I’m very honored to have given you a small key. [smile]
Best wishes,
–Diana
I love the details, the descriptions…you make it so easy to visualize the moment, so intimate. Looking forward to reading the entire book !
So incredible how your black and white, one dimensional written words Diana transport me completely. I feel the warmth of the sun, the chill to the bone, the sticky stifling humidity and smell of the sweet heather, autumn leaves along with the stench of decay and other nasties in your books. I enjoy the meticulous detail of the history and life you place me in during 17th century. I wonder if you have been through the stones yourself with such details. Your talents no know bounds Diana. Thank you for this wild and beautiful story about love in a world that sometimes feels like it is lacking.
This posting was a very generous gift indeed. It is these beautiful, caring moments of our most beloved characters from your stories that have us all falling in love over, and over, and over again. Thank you, Diana.
Diana, this excerpt took my breath away and makes me long for the next page, the next chapter — all of it. I will try and be patient.
Happy Birthday to another Capricorn. I should have known we had something else in common other than Jamie and Claire.
Fondly, Susan
Your most current posting to BEES was wonderful….It was so soft and gentle and peaceful…Thank you for the gift to us on/for your birthday…May your days ahead be happy, healthful and beautiful..May you have peace and love with your family…Your soul is so soft and gentle and you show it thru your writing…
Diana, WANN erscheint bitte Band 9. Es ist müßig beim Verlag nachzufragen, es kommt keine Antwort. Ich wäre sehr dankbar dafür, Anna Willinger
Hallo, Diana, darf ich fragen, WANN Band neun erscheint? Eine Nachfrage beim Verlag ist müßig, man bekommt keine Antwort. Band neun wird schon sehnlichst als Geburtstagsgeschenk erwartet. Danke für eine schnelle Antwort, Anna Willinger
It’s so beautiful, so sweet … Thank you!
Dear Diana,
I have discovered your Outlander series only six months ago. I’m already reading them for the second time
In many ways these books have changed my life. For the better!!
I’m totally obsessed with the characters and the story line
It’s just beautiful. I’m patiently awaiting Bees. Please don’t let Bees be the last outlander book.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for making my life a little happier.
Dear Diana,
I am a person who love your job, and the “outlander world”, created by you.
In 2017 I had breast cancer, and I had sucsess in my treatment. Throughout the treatment process, 11 month, I had enough time to read for 3 times all outlanders books, and they brought me a lot of nice things and feelings, included love, hope, a nice imagination, poetry, and confort. I love the details about century XVII, and about the way of live in that time. I loved the caracters, and I was (am) a voyager in that lives…
My treatment was concluded tree month ago, and I would like to thank you, and express my gratitude, because your energy and time to create that books brought me all that things, and more… Jamie and Claire Fraser lived in my home last year, besides that, I am enjoying “Outlander Show” (Season 3), it has been wonderful watched it. Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe are amazing. In my feelings they captured and brought Jamie and Claire to the light.. Thank you Diana, truly thank you.
Sorry for my bad English but I need to transmit you my feeling of gratitude.
Best regards grom Brazil
As an avid follower (and believer) of Claire and Jamie, I thank you for this excerpt. I’ve been on Claire’s journey with her since the very first book. The series of books is one of my most cherished possessions (all with nameplates signed by you) and I’m so looking forward to adding BEES to my collection.
A belated Happy Birthday and thank you for a love story that is so much more and so fulfilling. As probably all your fans do, I feel like I know these two people personally and am anxiously anticipating what they will get into next!
Jean Cornwell
Hi Diana,
I became a huge fan of your unbelievable series last January when I picked up Outlander Book 1. Here I am back in January, I just finished “Written In My Own Heart’s Blood” and thought that this book was the end to the series. I thought, what a wonderful way to end the series, Richard, Bree, Jem and Mandy rejoining Jamie and Claire. Then I get the idea from reading Amazon that the series isn’t over! In any case, I’m more than delighted to be able to read more of their story. And I don’t care how long it takes to finish…I’m just excited there will be another book.
Loved the excerpt!
Happy Belated Birthday!
Thanks, Judy! No, it isn’t over yet. [g] The ninth book is called GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE. I have _hopes_ (no more) of possibly finishing the manuscript around the end of the year, but that’s assuming that a lot of things work out right. Still, it _will_ get done eventually. Hope you enjoy it when it does!
Best,
–Diana
Dear Diana,
Thank you so much for sharing this excerpt on your birthday.
It was in a word – lovely! So very intimate and so touching at the same time.
It is for the moments like this in your work that I wait for. Like the rest of
your devoted followers I continue to read, re-read and buy your books.
Thank you for the pleasure you give to your readers and happy belated birthday.
My pleasure, Bridget–thank you very much!
Best,
–Diana
In Book 3, when Claire takes care of Jaime after the injury that Laoghaire caused, Jaime also feels headache and Claire takes care of that. It’s so sweet! I Love!