Misunderstanding

This is from later in the WIP. Alec, after thinking Elspeth dead for several months, has a vision of her and manages to travel forward to her time to seek her out. He's finally tracked her down and is on his way to reunite with her, but arrives just after another unexpected visitor and misinterprets what he sees.

"Misunderstanding"
From ELSPETH (working title)
Copyright 2006 Jennifer R. Clark

Elspeth placed Colin carefully against her shoulder, grateful that now, at two months old, he was starting to hold his head up more on his own. His hair—he had a lot of it, for a two-month-old—smelled of lavender baby shampoo, the clean scent of baby powder, a faint sour-milk whiff of spitup, and just…baby. It was her favorite scent.

The doorbell rang and she sighed. Nathaniel had a key and came and went as he pleased. She wasn’t expecting anyone else. Just please don’t let it be the creepy vacuum cleaner salesman again.

With a fortifying breath, she opened the door and prepared herself for the “I-don’t-want-any-okay-thanks-bye” speech, but the words died on her lips as she met the eyes of the man standing on her front porch. The grey eyes that were so familiar, and had once been so dear. “Doug.”

“Li-, I mean, Elspeth. You look good. Can I come in?”

She opened the door wider and took a few steps back. “I didn’t expect to see you again, after last time.”

He stopped just inside and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it unkempt and sticking up in all directions. “Look, I’m sorry for that. I know I said some things-”

“Some things! That’s the understatement of the year.”

“I said I was sorry. I was hurt. I was stupid. Even though I’d left you, some part of me always thought you’d be there to take me back, and then…you weren’t.”

“And I’m still not, Doug. I’m sorry too, but I told you the last time.”

He looked away. “Can we at least talk? Do you want to go for a walk or something, or is it too cold for the baby?

Beyond him, the late winter sun shone weakly through a thin layer of high cirrus clouds, casting filmy shadows on the ground. The air seeping past him was not bitter; in fact, it was relatively warm for February. “It should be okay. I’ll just bundle him up.”

“What’s his name?”

“Colin.” The snowsuit was lying on the floor of the coat closet. Good thing it’s starting to warm up outside, because he’s already getting too long for this thing. It was amazing how fast he was growing. Finally zipped up and tobogganed, the only part of her son that remained visible was his face.

Doug held him stiffly as she put on her coat, like one unaccustomed to handling an infant. She started to reach out, but Doug shook his head. “I’d like to hold him, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, I guess that’s fine.”

“It’s funny, I always thought we’d be having babies together someday.” Doug said a minute later as they started down the sidewalk.

“I thought that, too, once.”

“We still could, you know.” He spoke softly, and she could hear the barely disguised hope in his voice. “Give me another chance. I screwed up, but it won’t happen again. I’ll love this child as if he were my own son. I’ll adopt him, even. And then, maybe, we can give him a little brother and sister.” He stopped and turned to face her. “Say you’ll marry me again. Please.”

How many times had she brushed the stray lock of hair away from his forehead, as she was doing now? His sincerity touched her, and she was willing to forgive him for his previous emotional outburst. “Doug, I-”

Before she knew what was happening, he bent his head to hers and kissed her, with the baby cradled carefully between them. It was the same as the kisses they had shared before, but it was also…different, somehow. Instead of melting into the kiss, she felt stiff, frozen. He pulled away when she didn’t open her mouth to him, and silently passed Colin into her outstretched arms. Her feet carried her on, away from the awkward moment, concrete squares passing beneath ratty but comfortable sneakers. Soon she felt Doug’s presence beside her again. A prickle of awareness tingled on the back of her neck. Is someone watching us? A quick glance up and down the street confirmed that she and Doug were the only ones on the sidewalk, and she dismissed the feeling.

They walked around the block in silence, past the rows of cookie-cutter subdivision houses. Neither looked at the other. Finally, they reached her front porch again, and she managed to find her voice. “Come inside, and I’ll get you something warm to drink.”

***

Alec stood stock still, pressed flat against the wall of the house across from Elspeth’s. The joy and hope that had buoyed him up as he stood there—checking the house number scrawled on a scrap of paper for the hundredth time as he prepared to finally reclaim the woman he loved, his wife—had drained away, leaving an aching, cold void where his heart had been. She had no’ waited. The man with her was the same man he had seen going to her in his vision. Only one word of their conversation reached him, no matter how he strained his ears. Doug, she called him. Douglas. The one she had been betrothed to. They must have married when she returned to this time. And they had a bairn.

Was he nothing to her, that she had forgone the year and a day of their handfasting? Nay, his mind said, she gave herself too freely, too completely to ye to believe that. But there was another factor—did she think of the year and a day as literal? That span of time had passed three hundred times over since the date their vows were spoken.

Whatever the reason, the fact remained: she was no longer his. He had seen them kiss, and the familiar way she touched him. He wanted to scream, to rant and rail against the cruel fate that would bring him so far from everything he knew for the love of one woman, only to take her from him again. He wanted to storm across the street, break down the door, and drag that Douglas out into the street. Let us fight for her, man to man.

But more than anything, he wanted her to be happy. And so he turned, with battered heart and leaden feet, and walked away from all that he had to live for in this world.

***

Elspeth sat at her kitchen table, letting the warmth of the hot apple cider seep through the mug into her chilled fingers. Colin was in his bassinet, asleep again, as babies spent so much time. Doug sat across from her, nursing his own cider and bruised ego.

“I’m sorry. A thousand times I’m sorry, Doug. I’m touched. But I can’t marry you. I can’t marry anyone, ever again.”

"Why? Did he hurt you?”

“No, he was…wonderful. He was everything to me. What you and I had…it was good, but it just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t what we really needed. If I could wish one thing for you, it’d be that you someday find what Alec and I had. I loved him so much. I still love him. I’ll never forget him and I can never be with anyone else. I’ll raise my son—his son, our son—to be the best man he can be and pray every day that he turns out like his father.”

Doug’s cup thunked heavily on the wooden table. He was hurt, deeply—she could see it in his eyes. But he also understood, now. “I see,” he said, and she knew that he did.

His shoulders were tense as her arms encircled him in an awkward hug. “Thank you for understanding.”

He hugged her stiffly back. “It’s…the least I can do.”

“Doug?”

“Mmmm?”

“I feel so cliché for asking this, but…can we still be friends?”

He sighed, gave her one last squeeze, and stepped away. “Sure. But I should go now. If you ever change your mind…”

"I know where to find you. Goodbye, Doug. [Scotch/Gaelic parting blessing]"