Let me express this with all the calm I can muster: I yearn for that reunion, and I need it urgently. Relying solely on Brianna and Roger is insufficient to sustain me. Why must we venture back to Boston? These delays are utterly unnecessary.
We first encounter Claire, elbows deep in someone's torso, expertly performing surgery alongside her colleague Joe. It's reminiscent of "Grey's Anatomy," albeit equipped with far less sophisticated tools. Compared to the amputations she once conducted in the 1800s, this scene rivals Seattle Grace in intensity.
Meanwhile, Brianna sits in a Harvard lecture hall, ignoring her history professor as he drops gems of wisdom about Paul Revere. He mentions how names can fade into obscurity in history. Does she catch the hint? Unfortunately, Brianna is struggling academically and hesitates to confide in her kind professor about her troubles.
Joe and Claire share a drink in her office, and he senses that her Scottish adventure was far more intricate than she lets on. She offers him a skeletal version devoid of time-travel drama—a Scotsman from her past, they parted ways—but he's skeptical.
Their first Christmas without Frank weighs heavily on them, particularly on Brianna. I feel your pain, Brianna! Fortunately for her, Roger arrives in a yellow cab, unannounced and undeterred. (He simply can't quit her!) This trip is lengthy and costly, especially since no one expects him, a fact that Brianna is blissfully unaware of. Amidst their disagreement about her Harvard dropout and move, Brianna cannot let go of THE ENTIRE UNBELIEVABLE ORDEAL. I admire her resolve! If I discovered my mother was a time-traveler, I too would struggle to focus on math problems and essays about Paul Revere.
Roger arrives, bearing gifts wrapped in the promise of hope: a 1765 article where the author weaves in a quotation from Claire, intertwined with a verse by Robert Burns—a boy of mere six years at that time, making it undeniably Jamie, concealed under the pseudonym Alexander Malcolm. Claire's countenance registers a whirlwind of emotions, racing a million thoughts per minute. Come on, Claire, tear through that portal to the past with the ferocity it deserves! Her reluctance to kindle fresh hopes is understandable, her bond to Brianna unbreakable. "Take her along, you dolt," I urge silently. Her studies are faltering anyway; perhaps she yearns to meet her biological father too?
The following dawn, Claire's desk is inundated with human remains—bones, stark reminders of mortality—sent by an anthropologist seeking to unravel a tale of demise. Claire's astute deduction identifies them as those of a murdered woman, baffling Joe. A Caucasian female victim in the Caribbean? She confides in Joe about the anonymous Scotsman being Brianna's true father, explaining her current turmoil. Joe inquiries if her heart still beats for him. (Obviously.) He reflects on the half-life Claire has led for sixteen long years, urging her to seize a second chance if it presents itself.
Yes, Joe! Brilliant insight! Embrace it! Heed your wise companion, a paragon of cool!
Elsewhere, Brianna guides Roger through the campus, their conversation wandering through the intricacies of architecture before veering into philosophical terrains about the essence of history—a narrative or mere chronicles. Meanwhile, Frank's paramour, Sandy, attends the memorial, casting an awkward shadow. Sandy, harsh in her candor, asserts that Claire should have released Frank, that he stayed for Brianna's sake when he belonged with Sandy, his true love. Love should conquer all, she insists, albeit rudely, yet not without truth. Claire comes clean about Sandy's identity to Brianna, a revelation met with understanding. Brianna speculates that Frank must have resented her for resembling Jamie, a notion we all dismiss as folly, given his exemplary fatherhood. They share a tender moment of love, appreciation, and heartfelt communication, bridging the gaps between them.
Yes, Claire is diligently unearthing the article! Urgently, I exclaim, "Tell her you can return, urge her to accompany you!" Brianna, quick on the uptake, exclaims, "So, you can go back!" Her tone betrays no foolishness. She makes it plain that she doesn't require Claire's presence for her own sake. All of you can venture forth! Invite Roger! Bring Joe too! Though, perhaps not Joe—the past harbors prejudices far more virulent than those of Harvard Medical School in the 1960s.
Claire ponders, "What if he has forgotten me?" Her question is both endearing and heart-wrenching, yet also somewhat absurd, for Jamie would never forsake her. On an awkward tangent, she decides to inquire of Joe about her sexual allure. Of course, Claire remains a vision of loveliness ("a lithe Caucasian beauty with abundant hair and a splendid derriere"), and Joe is more than happy to assure her of this. If I weren't so eager for her reunion with Jamie, I might root for a liaison between her and Joe.
Roger and Brianna cleverly assemble an array of ancient coins for Claire to carry with her, along with a historical tome, some scalpels, and various medical gadgets. Brianna also bestows upon her a stunning necklace adorned with her birthstone.
The scene transitions to a delightful montage set to the Batman theme, where Claire diligently sews her Scottish attire. I reward this episode with a full five stars. She futilely pats at her non-existent wrinkles, prompting me to think, "Claire, desist!" She even conceals her gray strands!
Claire hands Brianna a resignation letter intended for Joe, and for Brianna herself, the deed to their house, all bank account information, and the necklace of Scottish pearls that Jamie gifted her on their wedding night. The farewell scene is excruciatingly poignant. I can scarcely believe I ever considered Brianna a brat. The romance in this moment is so intense, it could take my breath away.
(Note: With merely 14 minutes remaining in the episode, I was deeply concerned that it might conclude with Claire stepping through the stones only to find Jamie absent. A week feels like an eternity!)
As my fears loomed large, I beheld Roger and Brianna engrossed in "A Christmas Carol," their shared reading session a fleeting concern that swiftly vanished upon catching sight of Claire in Edinburgh. There, a child, without delay, imparted to her the secret to locating Jamie. My heart raced! It pounded with an insistent fury, thundering within my chest!
She ascended the stairs with purpose, each step echoing my anticipation. She stepped into the shop, and the delicate chime of the little doorbell resonated through the air. We heard his voice—oh, how my soul yearned at that very moment! She uttered his name, and he, recognizing it instantly, turned around at a pace so slow it seemed almost a trick of time, disbelief etched across his features. And then, quite suddenly, he collapsed, overcome with emotion.
The credits began to roll, marking the end of this heart-stopping scene. Until next week, when I can finally catch my breath once more.
