Diana Gebldon - Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone

DIANA GABALDON is the author of the international bestselling Outlander novels and Lord John Grey series.

She says that the Outlander series started by accident: I decided to write a novel for practice in order to learn what it took to write a novel, and to decide whether I really wanted to do it for real. I did and here we all are trying to decide what to call books that nobody can describe, but that fortunately most people seem to enjoy.

And enjoy them they do in their millions, all over the world. Published in 42 countries and 38 languages, in 2014 the Outlander novels were made into an acclaimed TV series starring Sam Heughan as Jamie Fraser and Caitrona Balfe as Claire.

Diana lives with her husband and dogs in Scottsdale, Arizona. Go Tell The Bees That I Am Gone is the ninth Outlander novel.

Keep in touch with Diana

@Writer_DG

AuthorDianaGabaldon www.dianagabaldon.com

OUTLANDER (PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED AS CROSS STITCH)

DRAGONFLY IN AMBER

VOYAGER

DRUMS OF AUTUMN

THE FIERY CROSS

A BREATH OF SNOW AND ASHES

AN ECHO IN THE BONE

WRITTEN IN MY OWN HEARTS BLOOD

SEVEN STONES TO STAND OR FALL

LORD JOHN AND THE PRIVATE MATTER

LORD JOHN AND THE HAND OF DEVILS

LORD JOHN AND THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE BLADE

THROUGH THE STONES

THE OUTLANDISH COMPANION

THE OFFICIAL OUTLANDER COLOURING BOOK

YOU KNOW THAT SOMETHING is coming. Somethinga specific, dire, and awful somethingwill happen. You envision it, you push it away. It rolls slowly, inexorably, back into your mind.

You make what preparation you can. Or you think you do, though your bones know the truththere isnt any way to sidestep, accommodate, lessen the impact. It will come, and you will be helpless before it.

You know these things.

And yet, somehow, you never think it will be today.

THERE WAS A STONE under my right buttock, but I didnt want to move. The tiny heartbeat under my fingers was soft and stubborn, the fleeting jolts life. The space between them was infinity, my connection to the dark sky and the rising flame.

Move your arse a bit, Sassenach, said a voice in my ear. I need to scratch my nose and yere sitting on my hand. Jamie twitched his fingers under me, and I moved, turning toward him as I shifted and resettled, keeping my hold on three-year-old Mandy, bonelessly asleep in my arms.

He smiled at me over Jems tousled head and scratched his nose. It must have been past midnight, but the fire was still high, and the light sparked off the stubble of his beard and glowed as softly in his eyes as in his grandsons red hair and the shadowed folds of the worn plaid hed wrapped about them both.

On the other side of the fire, Brianna laughed, in the quiet way people laugh in the middle of the night with sleeping children near.

She laid her head on Rogers shoulder, her eyes half closed. She looked completely exhausted, her hair unwashed and tangled, the firelight scooping deep hollows in her face but happy.

What is it ye find funny, a nighean? Jamie asked, shifting Jem into a more comfortable position. Jem was fighting as hard as he could to stay awake, but was losing the fight. He gaped enormously and shook his head, blinking like a dazed owl.

Whas funny? he repeated, but the last word trailed off, leaving him with his mouth half open and a glassy stare.

His mother giggled, a lovely girlish sound, and I felt Jamies smile.

I just asked Daddy if he remembered a Gathering we went to, years ago. The clans were all called at a big bonfire and I handed Daddy a burning branch and told him to go down to the fire and say the MacKenzies were there.

Oh. Jem blinked once, then twice, looked at the fire blazing in front of us, and a slight frown formed between his soft red brows. Where are we now?

Home, Roger said firmly, and his eyes met mine, then passed to Jamie. For good.

Jamie let out the same breath Id been holding since the afternoon, when those four figures had appeared suddenly in the clearing below, and we had flown down the hill to meet them. There had been one moment of joyous, wordless explosion as we all flung ourselves at one another, and then the explosion had widened as Amy Higgins came out of her cabin, summoned by the noise, to be followed by Bobby, then Aidanwho had whooped at sight of Jem and tackled him, knocking him flatwith Orrie and little Rob.

Jo Beardsley had been in the woods nearby, heard the racket, and come to see and within what seemed like moments, the clearing was alive with people. Six households were within reach of the news before sundown; the rest would undoubtedly hear of it tomorrow.

The instant outpouring of Highland hospitality had been wonderful; women and girls had run back to their cabins and fetched whatever they had baking or boiling for supper, the men had gathered wood andat Jamies behestpiled it on the crest where the outline of the New House stood, and we had welcomed home our family in style, surrounded by friends.

Hundreds of questions had been asked of the travelers: Where had they come from? How was the journey? What had they seen? No one had asked if they were happy to be back; that was taken for granted by everyone.

Neither Jamie nor I had asked any questions. Time enough for thatand now that we were alone, Roger had just answered the only one that truly mattered.

The why of that answer, though I felt a stirring of the hair on my nape.

Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, I murmured into Mandys black curls, and kissed her tiny, sleep-deaf ear. Once more, my fingers probed inside her clothesfilthy from travel, but very well madeand found the hairline scar between her ribs, the whisper of the surgeons knife that had saved her life two years ago, in a place so far from me.

It thumped peacefully along, that brave little heart under my fingertips, and I blinked back tearsnot for the first time today, and surely not for the last.

I was right, aye? Jamie said, and I realized hed said it for the second time.

Right about what?

About needing more room, he said patiently, and turned to gesture at the invisible rectangle of the stone foundation, the only tangible trace so far of the New House. The footprint of the original Big House was still visible as a dark mark beneath the grass of the clearing below, but it had nearly faded away. Perhaps by the time the New House was finished, it would be only a memory.