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Ella
“You’re staring at me again,” I say, sitting comfortably in my bed while Callen sleeps soundly next to me.
“Aye. I can’na take my bloody eyes off o’ ye,” Alasdair replies with a serious face. “And I do’na sleep at night fer wanting to stare at ye to make sure yer still breathing.”
“That makes me so sad, Alasdair. You’re going to exhaust yourself with worry. Come here,” I say, wanting to do anything I can to ease his mind. Taking his hand, I continue, “I am fine now. You must have faith that I will remain that way. Fate would not have brought us together to simply tear us apart so soon. It may want to challenge us, ensuring we understand the depth of our love, but not take us away from one another. Look at me,” I say, encouraging him to bring his eyes to mine and away from our locked hands. “I fully believe that with all my heart. Don’t you?”
His eyes are fierce as they roam the features of my face, and mine cannot help but notice the lines of worry that now accent his.
“Aye. I do. But when ye’ve been scared that badly, it leaves a wound, and this one is’na small. It will need time to heal.”
It hurts my heart to know how terribly he suffered, and in many ways, I completely understand, having lived with the fear he may never return home. But Alasdair saw his nightmare day in and day out. The potential for the worst outcome was high—he could see that, and it terrified him.
“I understand. Truly, I do.”
“I know ye do. So, when ye find me staring at ye, just smile and know that alone is the best medicine I could have.”
“I think I can do that.”
“I do have to admit,” he says, coming over to sit next to me on the bed, “it makes me feel a wee bit better knowing that ye were dreaming through most of it and not in pain.”
“Yes, me too,” I say with a laugh. “Though I call it a dream because I don’t know what else it could have been. I can assure you, though, I have never had a dream like that before. It was like an ongoing tale that I was living and witnessing all at once. And it was as vivid as this moment sitting here with you.”
“Ye did’na tell me that. What were ye doing? And do ye know where ye were?” he asks with genuine curiosity.
“Well, I don’t know where I was specifically, but it must have been here in Scotland. The people were dressed in traditional Scottish wardrobe, like that of the Highlands, but much older. There was a village…it seemed old as well, or perhaps it was a very remote location. Either way, it was nothing like the cities I’m familiar with,” I explain, wondering if he thinks it strange. “Though mostly I was in the forests or exploring nearby streams collecting herbs and roots, then taking them back to a cottage where I worked them into what I believe were medicinal remedies.” It does seem strange to have such a vivid recollection of a dream. “I must have dreamt that I was a healer of some sort. I have to say, I find the idea of it all rather appealing.”
“Fascinating, it must have some significance to who ye are, to yer ancestry perhaps.” He pauses then as Callen moves in his sleep, clearly having a vivid dream of his own. “If yer interested in learning about healing herbs, especially in this area of Scotland, the library is full of books that will teach ye anything ye want to know. It was a hobby of my mother’s, and she collected extensive samples. I still have them all stored in one of the pantries off the kitchen.”
“Oh! That’s wonderful, Alasdair. I think I would like to learn more about the healing arts. In the dream, I felt…very content. I would say it was as if I was doing what I was meant to do. And I can assure you, I would much rather do that than sit around the parlor working tiny stitches into a piece of fabric until my eyes hurt.” We both laugh at that notion. “Do you know that is what I was taught a proper lady does with her free time? Can you even imagine such a life?”
“Not so much fer you. But perhaps it is fitting fer some other ladies I have known,” he replies.
“Ladies, you have known?” I question with a raised brow.
“Not like that, my little vixen. Other women in general. Most ladies do’na like traipsing through the woods and racing horses over hurdles like you do.” He explains, showing off his dimple with a knowing grin. “Tellin’ ye true, it seems like a good fit fer ye, learning about the herbs and whatnot. It may not be what’s expected of ye, but that is of no mind. You will decide how ye spend yer time and what ye care to learn. It’s always been my belief that it’s a woman’s right to do so.”
“Well, that is very admirable of you, dear husband,” I say, taking his hand in mine and pulling him forward so that I can kiss his beautiful mouth. “Our daughters will be very pleased to know they can be educated and free to think for themselves. I know I was always grateful my father allowed it for me.”
Alasdair’s face turns sullen, like a mask of despair has replaced his joyful glow.
“What is wrong?” I ask with concern.
He doesn’t answer right away. Then finally admits, “I do’na want ye to have more children, Ella.”
“What?!” I exclaim. “You can’t be serious. You literally just said it is my choice how I want to live my life! And I want more than one child, Alasdair,” I vehemently state.
He stands abruptly and walks to the window across the room. I can see his jaw clenching hard, then notice his hands balling into fists with the same rhythm. I don’t say another word, giving him time to think about what I have declared.
I look down and notice my hand is wrapped around Callen’s, my thumb fitting perfectly in his tiny palm. My heart swells again with love for my beautiful, healthy boy. It’s as if every time I look at him, it expands inside me.
“It’s because I love you so much, Alasdair. I look at Callen and see that love in his creation. I can’t put into words how happy it makes me to see how he looks like you. What if we have a daughter that looks like me or, better yet, your mother? Then I can see her with my own eyes, and you will get to see her again.”
He drops his head, jaw still ticking as he tries to control his emotions. “Ella, ye almost died right before my eyes. ’Twas a miracle that brought ye back, and I can’na expect that to happen twice.” My stomach sinks when he turns to face me. The anguish I see there speaks of the fear and pain he went through, and I suddenly feel selfish, and thoughtless.
“I’m sorry, my love. I shouldn’t push so hard after what you’ve been through. You’re right, the wound will need time to heal, and when it has, we can discuss it again,” I offer, wanting to ease the worry that mars his handsome face.
“The last thing I want to do is argue wi’ ye. Time is too precious fer that. Not to mention, yer a fierce little fighter, and I’m afraid I do’na have the strength to keep up.” He agrees with a half grin that is weak and laced with sadness.
