What If It Were Brian Chapter Two
“Enough!” His shout startled her and her nursing son. Both jumped.
“Frank, what in the world?”
“It is bad enough that you didn’t give him a bottle as an infant like I said. But now, he can walk for goodness sake’s! And still at your breast. It is unseemly.”
She soothes her year old son back to feeding before addressing Frank. “It remains good for him. You see how strong and healthy he is.” A braw lad, Sassanach. You are doing well, she hears her true husband say in her head and has to stop herself from smiling, “that has a lot to do with what he is getting from my milk. “
“How much longer will you allow him to be attached to your breast?” He is still glaring, his hands on his hips. She simply glares back.
“As long as he will have it.”
“You would have him coming home from kindergarten and asking for a drink?”
She rolls her eyes. “Bloody hell Frank! No, nor would he. Most children self wean by 18 months to two.”
“Where are you getting those statistics from as most decent women in this day don’t …” He gestures to the nursing boy with disgust.
“You know perfectly well were I get them from.” They stare at each other until Frank breaks eye contact, “a shame. A man jealous of his own son.”
“Brian here is where you want to be. It just won’t happen Frank.”
“You are my wife Claire. If I want you in bed, bed is where you will be!” he thunders. Brian comes off the nipple and starts to cry. “Christ!”
She rocks him soothingly against her. “Try it. You will regret it. I learned a lot in that time, including self defense.”
“I have no time for this. I am late to a meeting with my student assistant.”
“Have fun Frank.” Her tone tells him she knows exactly what goes on in those meetings.
“What else do you expect Claire? You aren’t being a true wife to me.” He slams out the door. Brian lays hiccupping against her.
“I am sorry, my love. Father and I shouldn’t fight in front of you.” She rocks him to sleep while thinking of other fights, fights that wouldn’t end with Jamie running after another woman.
“He will be one now, or close to it. Is he walking yet? Talking?” he muses aloud as he sits at the table. Jenny listens as she trims up his hair. “I see Janet and Michael and try to picture Brian. Silly, I know. He could look like Claire or myself. I wonder if this Frank is treating her right, her and the lad.”
“Or lass?” his sister says as his red locks fall across the floor. “She could have a lass.”
“Aye, I just always picture a lad.”
His sister chuckles. “Men usually do.”
She and Ian were shocked when Murtagh brought him home, severely injured, without Claire. After getting him healed ( a time that none of them like to think about), he told them all. Starting and ending with the Stones. Things that hadn’t made sense before, suddenly did. Not that it was easily accepted. They are Scots, after all, and came to know the truth of it. That hadn’t kept Jenny from fussing at him, asking why she and her child were sent away.
She still wonders. On days like today when he longs for them so, she longs to shake him again and ask him.
Fergus comes running in. “Auntie Jenny, Mílord! Redcoats!”
They know what to do. Jamie is ushered down to the priest hole, expanded to be livable for him. Jenny dusts the red hair off her while Fergus sweeps it away. She goes to greet her guests.