It's not much of an update...but at least it's something, ya know?
When she returned to the McPherson house, she was greeted by a very angry little Jamie. He clung to her skirt and looked up at her with large eyes and a furrowed brow. In his little voice, he scalded her for leaving him without telling him and burst into tears before he could finish his lecture. She could do nothing but smile at him. Over the years, she had learned well how to hide behind a good smile and with this she would hide the pain of leaving him again. She bent down and pulled him close, brushing his dark, curly hair from his face and wiped away his tears. She slid the fiddle case that she had been carrying from her right shoulder down her arm and opened it. Little Jamie stared at it for a moment, and then looked at his mother in confusion. “Take it,” she said, “and learn to play. Become the best fiddle player that all of Scotland has ever seen, and when people hear your nimble fingers dancing along the strings, they’ll be hearing the voice of your people. This way, you’ll never forget.” Little Jamie didn’t say a word. He was afraid of saying goodbye, afraid that saying out loud would make it true. He simply cried without stopping as his mother bent down to kiss his forehead and then walked away.
Little did he know that the separation from his mother wouldn’t be quite as long as either of them had expected.