And just like that Droughtlander officially comes to an end and can you all please hold on a sec while I download a thesaurus cuz my vocabulary can’t keep up with all these feels.
Claire lands back at the stones with a thud. She frantically searches in the grass for a stoneless ring, which she finds, gathers her skirts in her fists and trudges down a paved road in her 18th century wool gown disoriented and combative scaring the hell out of the sweet, old man who stops his classic car to help. He tells her it’s 1948 and the English won the Battle of Culloden and she collapses in a heap, sobbing on the road. Her sobs are so heartbreaking even The Grinch, Captain Hook and Cruella De Vil would weep for her. I know I did.
Frank hurries into the hospital frantically looking for Claire. The overly calm doctor tells Frank his wife was cray cray but is feeling much better since he dosed her with a 1940’s version of some righteous Mary Jane and smacked her over the head with a hammer.
Frank enters Claire’s room looking much more sincere and attractive than last season (has he been to hunk school?). Claire hears him enter and thinking it’s a nurse, tells ‘her’ to turn off the damn radio but she catches his reflection and says ‘Hello, I’m back’. Talk about your understatement! Frank leans to embrace her and thinking it’s his nasty 8-ish times great grandfather Black Jack, she recoils, startling him. In a precursor to the Kardashian’s, a lone paparazzi breaks in and shoots a photo before a nurse kicks him out.
Frank says sweet Rev. Wakefield has offered them a place to stay while she convalesces and Claire asks ‘Do you know if Mrs. Graham is still in his employ and do you think she might own a Ouija board?’ This startles Frank, but he kindly replies he didn’t ask but can find out. He then spots Claire’s old timey outfit, picks it up and thus begins his Oprah ‘Aha’ moment as everything begins to add up.
Claire sits in the garden at the Reverend’s home pouring over dusty Culloden and Jacobite history books. Frank has heard from a colleague who verifies Claire’s clothing is genuine 18th century. #OhBoy
Mrs. Graham (I love her!!) brings tea to Claire in the garden because it’s an English cure-all. Two military planes fly overhead startling our war torn heroine and causing her to lash out, ‘there’s always another fucking war!’ She has obviously spilled the beans to Mrs. G because she picks up talking about our absent ginger hero. Mrs. G says, ‘whenever you talk about him, you mention his sense of humor far more than his hot bod’ or something similar. Mrs. G says Claire’s had an extraordinary adventure and should be grateful but she shouldn’t let that keep her from living her life with a man who loves her as the camera pans to Frank framed by some lovely Irish lace curtains.
That evening Claire invites Frank into her room to talk. They pull an all nighter and she tells him everything minus the good stuff.
She saves the best/worst for last and tells him she’s preggers and Frank is ecstatic for two seconds until it dawns on him that the baby daddy is the strapping, red-heided highlander and not himself. He completely loses his shizzle and storms out of the house winding up in a quaint potting shed where he beats the hell out of a stash of completely innocent vintage garden decor that never hurt anyone and in my opinion did not deserve it.
Later Frank tells the Rev that Claire is preggers but he’s shooting blanks so he’s not the baby daddy. The Reverend gives him a short yet profound lecture on fatherhood that would make Dr. Phil proud until Wee Roger Wakefield toddles into the room wearing an adorable tiny tweed suit that makes my ovaries yearn for a grandchild and calls the Rev ‘father’ and Frank begins to contemplate what could be.
Frank makes Claire an offer she can’t refuse. They‘ll move to Beantown, hang out at Fenway and he’ll be the baby daddy but Claire cannot search for Jamie until Frank is dead. Heartbroken Claire agrees and Frank takes Claire’s old timey clothes outside and burns the evidence(!) as she sadly packs her suitcase including the mysterious ring minus its stone that she scrambled for in the grass when she arrived back in the 1940’s.
They land in America in a plane that probably has wide, comfortable seats because it’s before the Airline Deregulation Act of 1978. #ThanksObama Claire descends the airplane’s stairs, reaches out to take Frank’s hands and voila, it’s Jamie and we’re back in 1744 descending the gang plank off the ship from France! Murtagh is with them pissing and moaning about the smell of the harbor, the baggage handlers and any minute now I just know he’s gonna write a bad Yelp review.
Jamie and Claire are in their room at the inn and he tells her he sometimes feels BJR’s touch on him. Claire is compassionate for about two seconds and then changes the subject to how they’re going to stop the rebellion. Turns out Claire doesn’t know much about the battles that take them to Culloden because she was daydreaming in class. This is not helpful.
Jamie and Claire are with cousin Jared who wants to know why he should trust that apolitical Jamie is a suddenly a raging Jacobite. Jamie strips off his shirt and his cousin Jared is repulsed by the site of his almost naked body. I notice through my medical research/ogling that his back has healed quite nicely thanks to Claire’s administrations of a cocktail of ground dandelion fluff, Eye of Newt and the blood of a virgin.
Jared says he’ll think about putting Jamie in touch with the Prince and then asks Jamie to come live in his Paris home and run his wine company while he’s away on a business trip. Sadly there’s no cable or Wifi, but from what I’ve seen of the previews it’s a major AirBnB score.
Claire who we know has a problem minding her own beeswax, sets out for a breath of fresh air accidentally stumbling on two diseased men being carried off a ship. She announces loudly that they have small pox as the hunkalicious Comte St. Germain who owns the ship enters the room. The Harbor Master says the ship must be destroyed and the Comte has a conniption and vows retribution. Jamie, Claire and Le Comte have a confab in French which sounds a lot like the tapes I used to listen to in High School French lab. If only they were saying this: ’J’entre dans la salle de classe avec mon crayon’, I’d understand. Eventually Jamie has to practically drag her out of there.
They’ve been very busy diagnosing small pox, making blood enemies and being responsible for burning a scary man’s ship so they call it a day and head back to the Inn as the ship burns in the harbor which by the way looks very beautiful.
How am I supposed to survive until next week? No, really….How?!?