Go Tell the Bees that I Am Gone (Outlander, #9)

by Diana Gabaldon

“Hmm,” she said, looking down her nose at her offspring. “What does thee think of Wisdom? Wisdom Murray? Wisdom Ian Murray?” Ian laughed. “Aye, and what if the laddie should turn out to be a fool? Borrowing trouble, are ye no?”

“Who steals my purse steals trash, sort of thing?” The smile widened. “…But he that filches from me my good name / Robs me of that which not enriches him, and makes me poor indeed.

“No man owns his own life,” he said. “Part of you is always in someone else’s hands. All ye can do is hope it’s mostly God’s hands you’re in.”

“Bless Thou, O God, the dwelling,” he said, “And each who rests herein this night; Bless Thou, O God, my beloved ones In every place wherein they sleep; In the night that is to-night, And every night; In the day that is to-day, And every day. May this sacred iron be witness To the love of God and the guarding of this house.”

“Bless to me, O God,” he said, “the moon that is above me. “Bless to me, O God, the earth that is beneath me, Bless to me, O God, my wife and my children, And bless, O God, myself who have care of them; — “Bless to me my wife and my children, And bless, O God, myself who have care of them. Bless, O God, the thing on which mine eye doth rest. Bless, O God, the thing on which my hope doth rest, Bless, O God, my reason and my purpose. Bless, O bless Thou them, Thou God of life; Bless, O God, my reason and my purpose, Bless, O bless Thou them, Thou God of life. — “Bless to me the bed-companion of my love. Bless to me the handling of my hands. Bless, O bless Thou to me, O God, the fencing of my defense. And bless, O bless to me the angeling of my rest; Bless, O bless Thou to me, O God, the fencing of my defense. And bless, O bless to me the angeling of my rest.” With a nod of his head, he indicated that we should join him, and we did. “Bless Thou, O God, the dwelling, And each who rests herein this night; Bless Thou, O God, my dear ones In every place wherein they sleep; In the night that is to-night, And every single night; In the day that is to-day, And every single day.”

“If the author thought it was worth his writing it down, then it’s worth my reading it. I dinna mean to miss a single word.”

“Christ, the bee swarm is out here! Now fly, you my animals, come. In the Lord’s peace, in God’s protection, come home in good health. — “Sit, sit, bees. — “The command to you from the Holy Mary. You have no holiday; don’t fly into the woods; Neither should you slip away from me. Nor escape from me. “Sit completely still. “Do God’s will,” he finished,

“Bees are real sociable,” Myers explained, and blew one of them gently off the back of his hand. “And they’re curious, which only makes sense, them goin’ back and forth and gatherin’ news with their pollen. So you tell ’em what’s happening—if someone’s come a-visitin’, if a new babe’s been born, if anybody new was to settle or a settler depart—or die. See, if somebody leaves or dies,” he explained, brushing a bee off my shoulder, “and you don’t tell the bees, they take offense, and the whole lot of ’em will fly right off.”

“I was teachin’ her le Français, she wants to learn it, so I was telling her the words for leech, and waterweed, and how to say things like, ‘Give me food, please,’ and ‘Go away, ye wicked sod.’ ” “How do you say, ‘Go away, you wicked sod’?” I asked, diverted. “Va t’en, espèce de méchant,” he said, shrugging.

I reached out and put a hand on the hive, feeling the lovely deep hum of the workings within. Amy Higgins is gone—is dead. You know her—her dooryard is full of hollyhocks and she’s got—had—jasmine growing by her cowshed and a good patch of dogwood nearby. I stood quite still, letting the vibration of life come into my hand and touch my heart with the strength of transparent wings. Her flowers are still growing.

“Yes, sir,” said Cinnamon huskily, and dropped suddenly to his knees with a crash that rattled the china on the sideboard and made little Trevor stiffen and shriek as though he were being disemboweled by badgers.

“It’s important to hear of great events, of revelations and of miracles. These remind us of the greatness of God, and His glory. But most of us—” He paused to breathe. “Most of us don’t live life in situations of great danger or adventure. We aren’t called upon so often to make a grand gesture…to be heroes. Though we have a few among us.” He smiled at them, meeting eyes here and there in the crowd. “But each one of us is called to live our lives in the smaller moments; to do kindness, to risk our feelings, to take a chance on someone else, to meet the needs of the people we care for. Because God is everywhere, and lives in all of us. Those small moments are His. And He will make of those small things glory…and let His…greatness…shine in…in you.”

“Ye dinna stop loving someone just because they’re deid,” she said reprovingly. “I canna suppose they stop lovin’ you, either.”

“J’ai connu une jeune fille de ce nom Amélie,” Fergus said. “Mais elle est morte.”

“Sit down, Willie,” he said. “Tea can wait. Brandy can’t.”

“Mama says cats are attracted to people working, so they can get in the way. I guess I’m the only person in the house who was doing anything at this hour.”