A Breath of Snow and Ashes - Diana Gabaldon [136]
“Germain!” Marsali called after him. “Na tuit!”
“What does that mean?” I asked curiously. “It’s Gaelic, is it—or French?”
“It’s the Gaelic,” she said, smiling. “It means ‘Don’t fall!’” She shook her head in mock dismay. “That laddie canna stay out of trees to save his life.” Germain had left the nest with its eggs; she set it gently on the ground, and I saw then the faint yellowed ovals on the underside of her forearm—faded, but just as Brianna had described them.
“And how is Fergus?” I asked, as though it had anything to do with the conversation.
“He’s well enough,” she replied, a look of wariness closing over her features.
“Really?” I glanced deliberately at her arm, then into her eyes. She flushed, and turned her arm quickly, hiding the marks.
“Aye, he’s fine!” she said. “He’s no verra good at the milking just yet, but he’ll have the way of it soon enough. It’s awkward wi’ the one hand, to be sure, but he’s—”
I sat down on the log beside her, and took hold of her wrist, turning it over.
“Brianna told me,” I said. “Did Fergus do this?”
“Oh.” She seemed embarrassed, and pulled her wrist away, pressing the forearm against her belly to hide the marks. “Well, aye. Aye, he did.”
“Do you want me to speak to Jamie about it?”
A rich tide of color surged into her face, and she sat up in alarm.
“Christ, no! Da would break Fergus’s neck! And it wasna his fault, really.”
“Certainly it was his fault,” I said firmly. I had seen all too many beaten women in Boston emergency rooms, all of whom claimed that it wasn’t really their husband’s or boyfriend’s fault. Granted, the women often did have something to do with it, but still—
“But it wasn’t!” Marsali insisted. The color had not gone from her face; if anything, it intensified. “I—he—I mean, he grabbed my arm, aye, but ’twas only because I . . . er . . . well, I was tryin’ to brain him wi’ a stick of wood at the time.” She glanced away, blushing fiercely.
“Oh.” I rubbed my nose, a little taken aback. “I see. And why were you trying to do that? Was he . . . attacking you?”
She sighed, shoulders slumping a little.
“Oh. No. Weel, it was because Joanie spilled the milk, and he shouted at her, and she cried, and . . .” She shrugged a little, looking uncomfortable. “I just had a wee de’il sittin’ on my shoulder, I suppose.”
“It’s not like Fergus to shout at the children, is it?”
“Oh, no, it’s not!” she said quickly. “He hardly ever . . . well, he didna used to, but with so many . . . well, I couldna blame him, this time. It took him a terrible time to milk the goat, and then to have it all spilt and wasted—I would ha’ shouted, too, I expect.”
Her eyes were fixed on the ground, avoiding mine, and she was fingering the seam of her shift, running a thumb over and over the stitching.
“Small children can certainly be trying,” I agreed, with vivid memories of an incident involving a two-year-old Brianna, a phone call that had distracted me, a large bowl of spaghetti with meatballs, and Frank’s open briefcase. Frank normally exhibited a saintly degree of patience with Bree—if somewhat less with me—but on that particular occasion his bellows of outrage had rattled the windows.
And now that I recalled the occasion, I actually had thrown a meatball at him in a fury verging on hysteria. So had Bree, though she had done it out of glee, rather than vindictiveness. Had I been standing by the stove at the time, it might easily have been the pot I threw. I rubbed a finger under my nose, not sure whether to regret the memory or to laugh at it. I never did get the stains out of the rug.
It was a shame that I couldn’t share the memory with Marsali, as she was in ignorance not only of spaghetti and briefcases, but also of Frank. She was still looking down, scuffing at the dead oak leaves with a pointed toe.
“’Twas all my fault, really,” she said, and bit her lip.
“No, it wasn’t.” I squeezed her arm in reassurance. “Things like that are no one’s fault; accidents happen, people get upset . . . but it all comes right in the end.” So it did, I thought—though often not in