Chapter 29

29

H e caught her before she hit the floor as she’d requested.

He wanted to argue when he realized what she planned but then stopped. Although his modern-day mind told him it wouldn’t work, his heart told him that Caitlin had the right of it. He wasn’t sure of how serious a condition she could heal, but she was certain of it.

Knowing how deeply she cared for her friend, he knew Caitlin would never jeopardize her life. He knew that she would have allowed him to perform the hysterectomy if it was needed. But with the strength of her faith and of her gift, it would not be necessary.

He’d stood back and watched as she used her gift. He’d seen her standing over Gavin as she worked on him but this was different. One moment she was breathing in and out, he thought he heard her counting to herself, and the next moment she was gone.

He’d called her name several times, even stirring the babe from his sleep, but elicited no response from her. Her eyes were closed, her hands stretched out over Beitris, and nothing else moved. The silence and stillness went on and on for more than thirty minutes, he estimated but it was impossible to say without his watch. If Moira or Aindreas were concerned, they never showed it. Both stood by, waiting for the results they knew would come.

“Did it take this long for my healing?” he asked when her trancelike state began to worry him. Her breathing had slowed to almost nil and her complexion grew paler with every passing moment of this process.

“Nay, Douglas, yers was no’ so long as this.”

“Each one is different?”

“Aye, though the difficult ones take the longest.”

“And she’ll suffer more for it?” he asked in a whisper, not wanting to add to Aindreas’ burden.

“The lass kens the cost of it, Douglas. Dinna worry about something ye canna control.” Moira rubbed the sleeping babe’s head and walked over to his father, who stood by the fire.

“Here, hold yer new son for a bit now,” she said as she passed the precious bundle into his arms, guiding him in holding the newborn.

“Will it cause a stir?” He thought about men’s role in childbirth and didn’t think a father’s presence was usual in this time period. Douglas gestured with his head at Aindreas, now holding the baby and looking as if he’d never give him up.

“Oh, aye, ’twill stir things up for a bit. The men in the village go the other way when a woman is giving birth. He did much better than I ever thought possible given his history.”

She smiled at the very large warrior across the room who was now a virtual prisoner of the little one in his arms. “He haes usually been on the floor looking up at his wife and new bairns.” Moira laughed loudly and Aindreas added a quiet chuckle to hers.

“It’s true, Aindreas? You pass out easily?”

“I hope ye won’t find it necessary to share yer knowledge wi’ anyone else, Douglas. Moira, Caitlin and Beitris are the only ones who ken my abhorrence of the birthing of bairns and why.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of any longer then.” He smiled at the incongruity of this brave warrior being taken down by a little pain or blood. He’d seen it happen many, many times in the hospital with emergency births. The bigger they were, the harder they fell.

For all his talk, his concerns never lessened about Caitlin. Still she stood next to the table in that same position.

“How do you know when it’s over?” He walked to her side and touched her hands lightly. Heat pulsed through them .

“Ye will ken. Are her breaths still slow and even?”

Listening, it was hard even to hear her breathing. He reached up and laid one finger on the side of her neck to find a pulse. It was there—very slow and even. He counted and estimated that it couldn’t be more than fifty beats per minute. He leaned forward and watched for the rise and fall of her chest since he couldn’t hear her. Respirations were very slow, too.

He’d seen this before, in people who meditated and those in hypnotic trances. He’d seen one man slow his heartbeat down on command. Douglas wasn’t sure which happened here first—the healing or the trancelike state.

He was getting restless just standing here but he wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world. They had so little time left in which to be together. However, this was not how he’d like to spend it with her. Still, it was better than being tormented with worry about how or where she was. He would stay with her until forced away.

A few minutes later, he thought he saw her eyes move under their lids. Checking her pulse again, it was faster, though more erratic this time. He could hear her breathing now and watched as her hands trembled and shook and she began to sway. He reached for her at the same time Moira called out a warning.

She was dead weight in his arms and he struggled to get a hold of her without stumbling against the table and against Beitris. Aindreas handed the baby off to Moira and helped Douglas lift Caitlin and carry her over to the vacant pallet.

All color had drained from her face and her breaths came in irregular gasps. She seemed to be in pain but didn’t know how that could be. Of course, if the blood was rushing into her legs and arms after standing so still for so very long, he could understand those feelings. This was different— she lay clutching at her stomach and moaning.

Douglas was at a loss for what to do for her. He looked at Moira who seemed very calm considering the circumstances. Her daughter lay writhing in pain and she stood by and watched.

“There is no’ a thing I can do for this part of it, Douglas, except to watch over her and keep her from harm.”

“She’s in pain? Does that happen?”

“Aye, the severity depends on the seriousness of the healed person’s injury or illness.”

“She’s clutching her stomach?” He didn’t like what he knew was coming as an answer.

“’Tis the area where the injury or illness occurs.”

“You mean that when Cait healed my head wound, she had pains in her head?”

“Aye, Douglas,” she answered quietly. “’Tis the way of her gift.”

“Then I don’t like her gift. It is a big burden for her to carry.” He wasn’t sure what kind of person could carry a burden like this one and do it successfully. Knowing that you can heal but will suffer physically for it? It took a very strong person to face that kind of choice.

And Caitlin had been doing it for years. Alone. And she didn’t hesitate to use it when needed: for him, for a small boy with a broken arm or for a woman trying to birth a son for her husband and trying to live through it.

She moaned again and curled up tighter on the rough bed. He needed to do something for her. Now. He looked to Moira for answers.

“She will rest easier on her own pallet. Can ye take her home now, Douglas?”

He began to collect his instruments until Moira waved him off. “I will gather yer things for ye, Douglas. Just take her home now.”

“I want to check Beitris, if Aindreas says I may?” He looked to the man for permission before laying a hand on his wife. At Aindreas’ nod, he lifted the covering Moira had placed over the woman’s abdomen and looked at the surgical site.

It was gone.

The abdomen was nearly flat and no incision line or scar marred the smooth surface. He placed his palm on it and slowly, gently felt the surface and pressed against the skin. Firm. No swelling. No puffiness. No sign that she’d delivered a baby by Caesarian section less than an hour before .

This was absolutely the most incredible event he’d ever witnessed. His hands trembled as he continued to probe Beitris’s belly, looking for signs of trauma. Nothing in his training or experience could match this.

“Douglas? Are ye unweel?” Aindreas asked. “Ye look as I feel just before I hit the floor.”

He shook himself free of the stupor he felt and simply could not believe his eyes or his hands. He’d told Caitlin he believed in her ability to heal others. It was a lie. He believed that she believed in her gift. He’d held back his own true feelings, not wanting to admit to his doubts in her.

Now, faced with the truth of her gift right in front of his eyes, he believed. She would be crushed by his lack of faith in what she held so dear.

“Douglas, ye hold yerself guilty of something that ye are no’ guilty of.”

She was doing it again. Moira had appeared at his side and offered her calm words as if she knew the internal turmoil he was suffering. He turned to her and she wore that accepting expression he’d seen so many times on Caitlin’s face. And on Mairi’s.

“I didn’t believe.” He held his hands out over Beitris, pointing out his lack of faith.

“Lad, ye of all people haid many reasons to doubt. The more learned ye are, the less ye can accept the unknown or the unseen.”

“She only asked me for a bit of faith in her gift.”

“And, ye gave it to her tonight. Ye could hiv interfered and done what ye planned to save Beitris. Ye didna. Ye gave over when she asked ye to. Ye believed.”

“But, I...” He couldn’t say anything more. All he’d seen tonight was finally getting to him.

“Dinna fash yerself now. Take my lass home and ye can talk more when she wakes.”

“How long will that be? Is there some way to tell?” He tried to remember back to his own healing but his thoughts were scattering rapidly.

“’Twill be as long as she needs, no longer and no less. ”

“I see.”

“Nay, ye don’t, but yer too tired to argue wi’ me anymore! Take her home and then get some rest yerself.”

“Should I leave her alone?” Douglas didn’t want to leave her in the dark and alone. Staying with her might not be an option, either.

“Pol will be there. Ye can stay if ye’d like.”

He nodded and walked to stand over her. She moaned softly in her sleeplike state but didn’t respond to his lifting her in his arms or when he said her name. Moira tucked a heavy plaid around her for the journey home.

“I will finish here and make certain all is well afore I come home.”

“Aindreas,” he said as he carried Caitlin to the door. “Congratulations on a fine new son.”

“I willna forget yer role in this, Douglas. I am in yer debt as well as the lass’.”

“Love her”—he looked at Aindreas’ wife who slept peacefully—”and your debt to me is paid.”

Douglas navigated his way out the door, stepping carefully as he held Caitlin so close. He breathed in her scent and recognized the soap she made for herself and her mother. She’d always smelled of mint, she had even tasted of it when he’d been with her in the cave.

It was a short walk back to her cottage by way of a shortcut he now knew. Soon he was knocking on the door and hoping that Pol was there to open it.

The door swung in and Pol stood in the doorway. When he saw who it was and who he carried, Pol tried to take her from him.

“I will carry her in, just open the door,” he said.

“Here now, let me help ye,” Pol moved out of the way and took the woolen wrap off his daughter. “Her pallet is over here.”

Douglas followed him and knelt down to lay her on it. He covered her with the plaid that Pol held out and then tucked it around her to make sure she was warm. Caitlin continued to moan and clutch her stomach even through his ministrations. He touched his wrist to her forehead and cheek and checked for fever but there was none.

“This happens wi’ each healing,” Pol offered.

“So Moira tells me. Is she ever not successful?”

“Caitlin? In her healings?” He nodded. “She haes been successful in all but one.”

“Really? What was the one that didn’t work?”

Pol leaned over and brushed the hair away from his daughter’s face. Standing up, he smiled. “She was. She tried to heal her own sprained ankle the night ye arrived.”

“Her ankle? How did that happen?”

“She told her maither she turned too quickly on a rough part of the path and twisted her ankle. When she heard the outlaws, she tried to heal the sprain but her gift didn’t work.”

“All the others have? That’s amazing.”

“Aye, ’tis.” He heard the father’s pride. “Well, ’tis late now. I’ll look after her until Moira returns.”

“I would like to stay a bit, if you have no objection. I want to make sure she is recovering.”

Pol looked at him in the light given off by the hearth and few candles. “’Twould do no harm if ye sat by her for now.”

“Thank you. I won’t stay long.”

Pol went back into the chamber he and Moira shared and soon snores emanated from the room. He checked Caitlin once more, then threw his own cloak onto the floor near her and lay down on it. He planned to stay awake until Moira returned home.

Reaching over carefully, he took one of Caitlin’s hands and entwined their fingers. That slight sensation was still there, much duller than their first touch but nevertheless there.

Since he didn’t plan on sleeping, he was very surprised to be awakened by Pol’s leaving for the smithy in the winter day’s gray dawn. He looked around, confused at first by where he was and why. His hand, still entwined with Caitlin’s, made things clear.

He released her hand and rolled to his back, stretching muscles sore from sleeping on the very hard floor and, from the looks and feel of it, in one position. Sitting up, he saw that Caitlin was still asleep and still as pale as when he’d laid her on the pallet. The thick covers were off her shoulders so he knelt over her and rearranged them to make sure she was covered. Then he sat back, leaned against the wall and watched her sleep.

How long would she be this way? Her heartbeat was still erratic but it was not as slow as when she’d done the healing. Her breathing, too. He watched her eyes moving now beneath their lids, much as in REM sleep. Maybe she was dreaming? Only an EEG could give him an idea of her brain activity and that machine was still centuries in the future. So he hoped and prayed that this was going along the way it should.

Moira had said she would sleep as long as was needed. He only had a few more days before the doorway through time was open again and he would leave. He added a prayer that he would have a chance to say good-bye to her before he left.

Sometime later his stomach grumbled, letting him know that he’d missed most of dinner last night. Moira was still not back from tending Beitris so he’d have to see to his own needs. He could go back to the castle for food but he didn’t want to leave Caitlin alone this way.

He stood and left the alcove where she slept. Going to her worktable, he pulled out a wooden box that held some of her herbs and found the betony she’d already wrapped in material. He told her it looked like a big tea bag and she’d laughed, but not known what he’d meant. Going to the hearth, he stirred the embers and added a few new pieces from the wood pile. While waiting for the fire to burn hotter, he looked for the big cauldron and carried it out the well.

Taking a few minutes to handle his early-morning tasks, he went to fill the large pot with water from the well. A thin coating of ice covered the surface of the water and he heard it crunch when the pail hit it. A few dips of the bucket later and the pot was filled. Hauling it back into the cottage, he slid it onto the sturdy metal grating over the cooking fire and waited for it to heat.

Douglas searched through the stored pans and pots and found the one Caitlin used for her tea and placed it near the hearth, dangling the betony stalks over the side of it. A short while later, after checking on her condition twice more, the water began to boil. Pouring it over the herbs filled the air with the fragrant smell of betony. He inhaled the aroma and the steam and chuckled to himself over how much this simple act reminded him of Caitlin.

He watched her do this almost every morning they’d spent together. A simple task but so intermingled with memories of her: her smile as she poured his tea for him, a grimace when she forgot to add the requisite drops of honey, the satisfied sigh when it was just right.

His stomach rudely interrupted his musings. Adding some honey to the pot, he placed it on the corner of the hearth to steep. Then, searching on one of the shelves, he found a large bag of oats. Mixing it with water as he’d seen Caitlin do, he soon had a small collection of the most unsightly, uneven oatcakes he’d ever seen. Cooking was never his forte so he was pleased with his results and placed a flat griddle pan over the heat. Already well-seasoned from much use, he placed the moist cakes on the heated surface and watched over them as they cooked. In spite of his close attention, some of them burned.

He scooped them onto a plate and brought them to the table. He poured a mug of tea and sat alone at Caitlin’s table. Biting into one of the cakes, he laughed. If he’d been able to add some cinnamon along with the honey to the oats, it would’ve covered some of the burnt taste. At least he wouldn’t starve.

It was sitting there, eating oatcakes and drinking betony tea, that Moira found him. The door opened and she entered with the cold December wind at her back. He ran over to help her get in the door and relieved her of the heavy sacks she carried.

“Thanks to ye, Douglas. I thought the wind would carry me away in spite of these.”

“It does grow colder these last few days,” he said, carrying the bundles to the worktable. He went to the hearth, poured another cup of the tea and walked it over to her. She removed her heavy cloak and hung it by the door. Accepting the mug and nodding her thanks, she went to the table and sat down.

“It haes been a very long night.”

“All is well with Beitris and the babe?” He pushed the plates of oatcakes toward her. Thinking on it, he also moved the crock of honey within her reach.

“Oh, aye. Beitris woke in time to give young Robbie his first feeding this morn.”

“They’ve named the boy Robbie?” He bit into another cake and washed it down with a swig of tea—it was more than tolerable that way.

“Aye. ’Tis our custom to name the first son after his faither’s faither. Robert was the name of Aindreas’ faither, God rest his soul.”

Looking at their food, Moira frowned. “Caitlin couldna be awake by now. Did ye make this?” She held out the oatcake in her hand.

“I’m afraid so. Be kind in your comments, it was my first attempt.” He laughed, anticipating some caustic remarks.

“’Tis much better than Pol’s efforts, but dinna tell him I said so. He does try,” she said as she bit once more into the cake. Chewing and swallowing, her expression became more serious. “Haes she stirred yet?”

“No. She is in the same position as when I placed her there last night. Her breathing and pulse is faster but not steady. Is this normal?”

“Aye, ’tis how it goes. She will need several days to recover from this one.”

“Several days? But I don’t have several days to wait for her to wake up.” He’d be gone on the third day from this one.

“Ye canna rush this or she willna regain her own strength. Ye saw how she was when she rushed to Craig’s side the other morn? She had just started to rouse when young Connor arrived with your request for your tools. She gained the whole story from him and ran off to help ye.”

Douglas remembered her pale face and how little strength she seemed to have, even swaying on her feet near the end of their minor surgery.

“This healing took much from her, it still does. ’Twill take time to let her come back from it.”

“I wanted...” He choked on the words.

“Ye wanted to say yer farewells to her afore ye leave?”

He nodded, his voice refused to work.

“Mayhap, ’tis better this way. She will suffer from yer leaving and will long for ye. If ye leave while she sleeps, ’twill be easier in the run of things.”

“Not to say good-bye?” he whispered. Was she crazy? A chance to share a few last minutes with the woman he loved, and he should pass it up?

“Douglas, I think the two of ye said what ye had to say in at the smithy the other day. Prolonging this with vows of remembrance and never-ending love will make it much more difficult on both of ye.” He started to shake his head but she pointed at him.

“Ye will return to yer world and move on in yer life. There will be other women and ye will love again—’tis the way of things. Caitlin will remain here and soon be a wife and maither.”

“I will never forget her,” he argued.

“And, she will never forget ye. But she will pick up her life and go on and find her place in the clan as she was meant to do.”

“Such a realist,” he said sarcastically.

“Someone haes to be,” she answered blandly. “In the meantime, dinna ye hiv something ye can tend to while ye wait?”

“Here?”

“Here or up at the castle? Ye should stay busy.”

He looked around the room and saw that many of the herbs were ready to be ground and added to Caitlin’s stores. His instruments, the ones that would soon be hers, needed to be cleaned and sharpened and wrapped.

“There are things to be done here, especially if Caitlin cannot do them herself. I would like to stay and do some of them. ”

“As ye wish,” she said, standing up and walking to the worktable. “I hiv to check on some others in the village. I will return by noon.”

“Should I try to feed her something? Broth, maybe?”

“Nay, she’ll eat when she wakes. I’ll hiv a tonic ready as well.”

“Does she need anything else when she wakes? Is there something else I can prepare for her?” He wanted to do something for her. He ran his hands through his hair and pushed the long pieces behind his ears. The braids she’d made had come loose long ago and his hair hung in his face again.

“She’ll wake, drink the tonic, and then go to the hot springs for a bath. That’s what she does when the healing takes this long and this much from her. There’s no’ much else for ye to do.”

“Fine,” he nodded at her. “I’ll look after her and finish some work we started a few weeks ago.”

Moira packed a satchel and threw her heavy cloak around her shoulders. With one more look at him, she tugged the door open and left.