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    —Jackie Cantor, Diana's first editor

“A Small Gift In Honor of My Birthday” (BEES)


Social Media Hashtags: #DailyLines, #GoTELLTheBEESThaIAmGONE, #BookNine, #ASmallGiftInHonorofMyBirthday, #ThankYouAll #VERYMuch

2018-01-11-DG-flowers“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.

Click here to visit my BEES webpage.


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.

48 Responses »

  1. What a delight to find this writing this morning. It’s beautiful. Thankyou.

  2. What a beautiful piece of writing…

    And on another note: very accurate description of migraines!

    I’m also an herbalist and Claire is using a good blend. My favorites are a blend of lavender, peppermint and birch…that’s a good point about smelling the herbs: something about the smell goes right into the brain
    and tells the migraine to shut down.

  3. Happy Birthday, Diana! Thanks for the gift of this beautiful excerpt from your next book! But isn’t that backward? We’re supposed to get you a gift!

  4. This was more than a small gift. Thank you.

  5. Lovely early-morning read. So sweetly touches my heart!

  6. I just finished “Written In My Own Heart’s Blood” today so I’m feeling a little melancholy – as I always do when I finish an Outlander novel. What an exceptional story, so well-written and definitely one of my favorites! Thank you for sharing an excerpt from BEES and reminding us that the return of these beloved characters is on the horizon. Happy birthday!

  7. I did not know I could have heart palpitations from anticipation until I finished MOBY and now have to wait for Bees….

  8. 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.

  9. I’m instantly take away with the first line I read. For me its like jumping into a scene of a movie. Thank you

  10. thank you! Can’t wait; it’s beautiful.

  11. Happy belated Birthday! And, thank you for the gift”)

  12. 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

  13. I love the details, the descriptions…you make it so easy to visualize the moment, so intimate. Looking forward to reading the entire book !

  14. 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

  15. 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.

  16. 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!

  17. Oh, how lovely. Thank you.

  18. It is moments like the one in your excerpt that are the heart of a long term good marriage – a deep spiritual connection that has some words, beautiful ones but also silences and physical lovemaking that “speak”. People who focus on only the sexual communion between Jamie and Claire, some wanting less, others more are looking at the warp but not the weft of marriage intimacy which is a tapestry woven of words, non-carnal touch, sex and mindful silences – mindful of our partner’s needs. Taking turns ministering to each other’s unspoken needs because we can “read” them automatically is so important that I prefer the term “help-mate” to all others describing a spouse, though “husband” as a verb does mean to protect and nurture.

    In as perfect as union as we humans can manage, helpmates do not let strong individuality and commitments to the larger world trump the challenge of tracking our partner out of the corner of our eye, being available and ministering even when not requested, at times over-ruling the rejection of our help as Claire does to Jamie in your above paragraphs. Of course, the crux of things is how a duo manage when both are needy at the same time. Jamie and Claire have learned to manage those times as well, staggering perhaps, but staggering together, each holding the other up.

    This symbiosis that already became apparent in your first book and first season of the TV show that followed the book reasonably closely was lost by writers starting in the second season but especially noticeable after the reunion episode in Season 3 when Jamie and especially Claire were written as not intuitive or patient with each other, (supposedly as a more “realistic” outcome of a 20 year separation) instead of their relatively seamless re-integration in the book as one for both and both for one. (The Three Musketeers have nothing on Mr. and Mrs. Fraser). THAT is what drew Claire back 200 years against the sacrifice of further time with her daughter and the comforts of a modern age – loving and being loved in a sublime way – mind, body and soul. Even a putative obstacle in the path like an ill chosen marriage to a hated rival becomes a mere pebble in the Unity Road. The woman who fought Redcoats and wolves for Jamie is not going to be cowed by a mere brothel or snippy sister-in-law when 20 years more mature and wiser! The TV scene of Claire still vacillating on the hilltop during Ian’s abduction is totally foreign to the phenomenal almost supernatural dynamic that drew her back through the stones and has been maintained through 8 soon to be 9 books.

    • Dear laine–

      Well, as I keep saying [wry g], the books are the books and the show is the show. I have some input on the show–I’m a consultant and they do show me scripts and episodes and invite my comment. Sometimes they accept my comments and sometimes they don’t. Naturally, they have a LOT less room in the TV series than I do in the books, so have to make choices as to how to handle things that take a good bit of time (and space, and resources) in the books. Often, I agree with what they do, and sometimes I don’t–but it _is_ their show, and the scriptwriters are entitled to their own creativity.

      Best,

      –Diana

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