𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 | outlander ↠ jamie fraser

3 | Little Visits

It was raining. It was always raining. One thing I missed about Connecticut was that it didn't rain all the time as it did here. I missed the home in Litchfield. I loved rainy days there, reading a book in front of the fireplace in a home that seemed much cozier. It was a home that had been designed for a family to gather together in close proximity to one another. It was also the house Ben had built for Lydia. It was a home I loved, but it no longer belonged to my family. Once my father passed, I had been forced to sell it. I had wanted to keep it, but once I became engaged to Stephen, I knew the likelihood of ever stepping foot in that house again was slim and that house deserved to have a family. People might call me crazy for thinking the house needed a family, but it was true and I had found a nice husband and wife with three children willing to make it theirs. The fact that the daughter's name was Lydia had sold me on selling it to them, despite how heartbroken it made me. It had been a sign. Fate. Although, I wasn't so sure I believed in such things anymore.

I stepped outside onto the veranda, although back home I would have called such a place a porch, and I watched the rain lessen to an annoying drizzle. I was thankful the downpour of rain had held off until Lottie and I had returned from another morning adventure. Over the last few days, Lottie had shown me other buildings and places with rich Scottish history in the Highlands. I loved every minute of it. I think the adventures were making me begin to feel like myself again and I think Lottie noticed, which was why she continued to take me out. I was also making progress in the history book. True to her word, it was helping me fall asleep. So much so that I found myself dreaming about the Highlands and men in kilts. Although, there seemed to be a recurring tall red-headed man dressed in a kilt in my dreams. Not that I minded, but I couldn't help but wonder how I had dreamt him up.

Childishly, I held my hand out under a gush of water before I shook it off. I then cast my gaze toward the small cemetery in the distance. I sighed. Stephen had been buried there. I hadn't been to see him since we had laid him to rest. It probably sounded stupid, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to say to him. Part of me never wanted to speak to him again, but I knew that I probably needed some sort of closure. I had gotten some closure the day before he had passed and while his death shouldn't have come as a shock, it did. The part of the grieving widow came out of shock over losing everything, not because I had lost the love of my life. Not that those who attended Stephen's funeral knew any better, nor did they need to.

I sighed once more. I didn't have a good reason for procrastinating this. I should probably just get it done and over with. So I walked inside the house to grab an umbrella before I walked slowly, but deliberately down the gravel path that led to the cemetery. I could hear the wind pitter-pattering against my umbrella. I could see the wind rustling the branches on the trees. I could smell the sweet scent of wet grass. I was focusing on everything, but Stephen, who had been my sole focus the last few months of his life. I didn't care to relive those days. But something in the pit of my stomach told me that now was the time to seek my closure.

I stopped in front of his grave and inhaled a deep breath, before exhaling it slowly. "Hello, Stephen," I whispered. I wasn't sure why I was whispering. There was no one around to hear me. I raked my fingers through my hair, removing the pins, allowing it to cascade in soft waves down my back. I supposed it would be rather stupid to ask how he was doing. He was dead. I never had an issue talking to my parents when I got to visit their graves. But my emotions were still raw from Stephen. He was supposed to have been my everything, but he wasn't. Nor would he ever be.

"Sorry, I haven't visited yet. I-I wasn't ready. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure that I'm ready now, but Mrs. Graham gave me an ominous warning the other day when she came over to visit Mrs. Campbell. She said I ought to do it soon before I couldn't. I'm not entirely sure what she means. She's a strange woman. I'm surprised Reverend Wakefield took her on. She's an odd duck to be sure. Speaking of the Reverend, he's coming by for dinner tonight with a couple on their second honeymoon. Not that it really matters...or that you even care. After all, you're dead."