Chapter 20: Ceremony

April 26th, 1778, Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia

Sure, it was thought to be unlucky for the bride and the bridegroom to set eyes on each other prior to the wedding on the big day, but the future mother in law of the latter did not have the constraint of superstition holding her back from peering at Dennis Randall from behind the side of the curtains as he was picking wildflowers for his breast pocket for the ceremony. From this distance, Claire could not tell him apart from the way Frank looked on their wedding day, tall and jubilant and in a short, dark blue civilian's waistcoat that could've just as been part of the suit her own first husband wore on the day. Her hand naturally went to rub at her ring finger, the one housing Frank's band.

"What's with the keek? I thought ye would be helping Brianna," Jamie's strong voice and the door closing behind him startled her, "ye'd better jilldee, there's no much time till the priest is meant tae arrive."

"I will be, in a moment," she pulled her hands apart hastily, knowing that while Jamie never mentioned she should get rid of that old ring, he had eyed it antagonistically on many of occasions.

Her Scot positioned himself in front of her, regarding her contemplatively. "I ken that look. Ye are no as sure footed about this wedlock as ye claim yerself to be after all. An' that aft yer rigorous demands an' pleading fae me tae accept the young yins' wishes," he grumbled, "what is it?"

"I don't have anything against Bree and Dennis tying the knot," Claire evaded the question, "I want nothing more than to see our daughter happy and it seems to be that this is what she wants."

"She bloody well should, getting with child and without a husband," Jamie reiterated the argument that convinced him most about the appropriateness of the marriage, that of course after Claire and Bree and the rest of the household had to peel him off the soldier and keep the Scot from killing the young man he thought to have taken his precious only child's honour.

Claire shook her head. Sometimes she still found it hard to think with eighteenth century mentality. Brianna and Dennis loved each other, they only worried about the prejudices in the family against their union and thus kept their relationship secret at first. "Neither of them did anything wrong, they were handfast."

"Handfast, hogwash! How? The lad is no more of a Scot than the very pyramids in Egypt an' as far as I ken, handfasting is no a thing with the English! They're havering!"

"We're not going to argue about this again, are we? You agreed you will behave yourself today."

"Jack Randall must be laughing at me in his grave! I can't believe I organised the burial too! Pure mince, his son marrying my daughter, an' she claims too it is of her own free will!"

"You know just as well as I do that Dennis isn't really his son. Where's the mental attitude you came in with? Last night you were resigned at least to what was going on?"

"Dissipated the moment I saw yer chancy look. What is it ye jinking about? Anything the matter with the lad's standing!" He demanded.

"No, no, no such thing, far from it," Claire tried to diminish the effect her own foolishness of showing uncertainty in front of the ever-so-questioning Jamie. And given how hard it had been to make him go along with the union, she would really have to end up giving him an explanation, "it's just well, Frank."

"Frank?" The Scot uttered the word with the usual discordance, "what does he hae tae do with it."

"I don't remember his whole family tree. I did remember that Jack Randall was supposed to marry Mary Hawkins and she was supposed to give birth to Dennis as she did, but quite a lot of the next lines, I do not remember! I don't know who Dennis was to wed but don't you think it would've struck a cord if it was someone called Brianna Fraser? So it could be that Frank won't exist now?"

"The name Brianna Fraser meant nothing tae ye when ye looked at that family tree. Why would ye have memorised it especially? It could verra well have been Brianna Fraser."

"It's such a distinctive name, not one of the usual Annes and Charlottes and Luisas and the such that there are many of and so are easy to brush over. It's more of a Scottish name too, something that Frank would have noticed and mentioned for its curiosity if I personally didn't notice."

"Sassenach, do ye really think yer memory is infallible, hm? A lot of water under the bridge I shall say since ye were with yer first husband. Can ye no let him go then," he pressed, albeit gently. He could have no real quarrel with a man who may never be born after all.

"You're right," Claire urged herself on, "it is Brianna's happiness that counts," she readied herself to get out the door by getting her shawl.

"Claire," he stood in the way and held her arms in his, "dinna fash," he looked her in the eyes encouragingly seeing how her mind wasn't really made up on the matter, "if I've learnt anything through our lives fighting fate is that ye cannae truly change anything. Everything came tae be as ye said it would, no matter how much we fought against it."

"Jack didn't die at Culloden. We changed that, I changed that."

"And yet that didn't change anything, Dennis still ended up a soldier on this continent like ye said he'd be. Nothing's changed. For all we ken, this is how it's all supposed tae be," he squeezed supportively.

It made Claire smile, "look at you, trying to make a space in the world for a Frank, my Frank."

"Och, well, so long as he doesna come knocking through Craigh-na-Dun," he grinned back, "now stop muckin aboot, the lass' waiting fae ye!" He turned her around to direct her, but not before planting a quick kiss on her lips.

The End.