"sassenach." He Had Called Me

I Work On Multiple Projects At A Time Because It Keeps Me From Getting Writer's Block.

What A Mystery Blood Was -- How Did A Tiny Gesture, A Tome Of Voice, Endure Through Generations Like The Harder Verities Of Flesh? He Had Seen It Again And Again, Watching His Nieces And Nephews Grow, And Accepted Without Thought The Ehoes Of Parent And Grandparent That Appeared For Brief Moments. The Shadow Of A Face Looking Back Through The Years -- That Vanished Again Into The Face That Was Now.

And When My Body Shall Cease, My Soul Will Still Be Yours, Claire? I Swear By My Hope Of Heaven, I Will Not Be Parted From You." The Wind Stirred The Leaves Of The Chestnut Trees Nearby, And The Scents Of Late Summer Rose Up Rich Around Us; Pine And Grass And Strawberries, Sun-warmed Stone And Cool Water, And The Sharp, Musky Smell Of His Body Next To Mine. "nothing Is Lost, Sassenach; Only Changed." "that's The First Law Of Thermodynamics," I Said, Wiping My Nose. "no," He Said. "that's Faith.

I Meant It, Claire,' He Said Quietly. 'my Life Is Yours. And It's Yours To Decide What We Shall Do, Where We Go Next. To France, To Italy, Even Back To Scotland. My Heart Has Been Yours Since First I Saw Ye, And You've Held My Soul And Body Between Your Two Hands Here, And Kept Them Safe. We Shall Go As Ye Say.

Jamie," I Said, "how, Exactly, Do You Decide Whether You're Drunk?" Aroused By My Voice, He Swayed Alarmingly To One Side, But Caught Himself On The Edge Of The Mantelpiece. His Eyes Drifted Around The Room, Then Fixed On My Face. For An Instant, They Blazed Clear And Pellucid With Intelligence. "och, Easy, Sassenach, If Ye Can Stand Up, You're Not Drunk." He Let Go Of The Mantelpiece, Took A Step Toward Me, And Crumpled Slowly Onto The Hearth, Eyes Blank, And A Wide, Sweet Smile On His Dreaming Face.