Let me be enough

The whole Scene

I loo­ked down to see Adso. I’d been loo­king for him most of yes­ter­day; typi­cal of him to show up at the last minu­te.
“So the­re you are,” I said, accu­sing. He loo­ked at me with his huge calm eyes of cela­don green, and licked a paw. On impul­se, I scoo­ped him up and held him against me, fee­ling the rum­ble of his purr and the soft, thick fur of his sil­very bel­ly.
He’d be all right; I knew that. The woods were his pri­va­te game pre­ser­ve, and Amy Higg­ins lik­ed him and had pro­mi­sed me to see him right for milk and a warm spot by the fire in bad wea­ther. I knew that.
“Go on, then,” I said, and set him on the ground. He stood for a moment, tail waving slow­ly, head rai­sed in search of food or inte­res­ting smells, then step­ped into the grass and vanis­hed.
I bent, very slow­ly, arms crossed, and shook, wee­ping silent­ly, vio­lent­ly.
I cried until my throat hurt and I couldn’t bre­a­the, then sat in the grass, cur­led into mys­elf like a dried leaf, tears that I couldn’t stop drop­ping on my knees like the first fat drops of a com­ing storm. Oh, God. It was only the begin­ning.
I rub­bed my hands hard over my eyes, sme­a­ring the wet­ness, try­ing to scrub away grief. A soft cloth touched my face, and I loo­ked up, snif­fing, to find Jamie kne­e­ling in front of me, hand­ker­chief in hand.
“I’m sor­ry,” he said, very soft­ly.
“It’s not — don’t worry, I’m … He’s only a cat,” I said, and a small fresh grief tigh­te­ned like a band round my chest.
“Aye, I know.” He moved besi­de me and put an arm round my shoul­ders, pul­ling my head to his chest, while he gent­ly wiped my face. “But ye could­na weep for the bairns. Or the hou­se. Or your wee gar­den. Or the poor dead lass and her bairn. But if ye weep for your che­etie, ye know ye can stop.”
“How do you know that?” My voice was thick, but the band round my chest was not qui­te so tight.
He made a small, rue­ful sound.
“Becau­se I can­na weep for tho­se things, eit­her, Sas­se­nach. And I have­na got a cat.”
I sniff­led, wiped my face one last time, and blew my nose befo­re giving him back the hand­ker­chief, which he stuf­fed into his spor­ran without gri­mace or thought.Lord, he’d said. Let me be enough. That pray­er had lod­ged in my heart like an arrow when I’d heard it and thought he asked for help in doing what had to be done. But that wasn’t what he’d meant at all — and the rea­li­za­ti­on of what he had meant split my heart in two.
I took his face bet­ween my hands, and wis­hed so much that I had his own gift, the abi­li­ty to say what lay in my heart, in such a way that he would know. But I hadn’t.
“Jamie,” I said at last. “Oh, Jamie. You’re … ever­y­thing. Always.”
An hour later, we left the Ridge.

Picture from Outlander
All rights for the Pic­ture go to the right­ful owner Starz
Quo­te and Excerpt by Diana Gabaldon from “An Echo in the Bone”
I own not­hing but the editing
Heike Ginger Ba Written by:

|Human|Woman|Mother|Wife|Friend| Photographer| Blogger| |TV-Junkie|Photoshop-Beginner|Art-Lover|Cologne-based|Outlander-addict |Sherlockian |TWD-devoted


  1. Ila Funkhouser
    August 23

    Thank you so much for sharing, I appre­cia­te your atten­dance to detail and your obvious addic­tion to Out­lan­der. Plea­se keep sharing with the rest of us who, perhaps, aren’t as talen­ted as you.

    • Heike Ginger Ba
      August 25

      Thank you so very much 🙂 LG Hei­ke

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