PART 1

...

"Quinn, you're pressing the wrong pedal."

"No, I'm not, Finn, I'm doing exactly what you told me."

The truck swerves across the driveway, past their house, towards a tree. Quinn can't seem to stop it.

"It's the left pedal."

"That's what I'm doing!"

Finn calmly pries her terrified fingers from the wheel and steers it in the other direction, then brings one hand down to her left thigh. "Left, Quinn. Left."

She looks down at his hand and giggles, because he's right. He turns off the ignition, his booming laugh filling the car and her heart for the thousandth time since they got married.

"You wanna call it a day?"

Quinn nods. "I don't wanna crash your SUV."

Finn kisses the top of her head. "Our SUV. And I don't care if you do. As long as you're OK."

Mr. and Mrs. Hudson walk hand in hand into the three story house they bought just five years ago. It still smells like new.

Quinn's busy cooking up a feast when her mother calls.

"Hudson residence."

"Quinn?"

"Yeah."

"Are you watching the game?"

She glances at the clock. She completely forgot.

"Uh, yeah." She races to the living room and digs under the plush cushions of their leather couch. Under the last one, amidst some stale chips, she finds the remote. She points it at the TV. Dora the Explorer, loud as can be. Wincing, she flips through the channels until she catches a glimpse of her husband in his uniform. 29. The day they went on their first date. She smiles involuntarily, until she hears her Judy's voice, icy on the phone.

"Today's trade deadline. I'm hoping you haven't forgotten that."

"No, mamma, I haven't."

What she really wants to say is "If you knew anything about football, you would know no one important gets traded on trade deadline." Or, "Finn's not gonna get traded, he's too good." Or maybe, "It's none of your business."

At exactly five o'clock, the doorbell rings. She opens the door gallantly and the girls come in, carrying bottles of wine and pots with flowers. They fawn over the remodeled dining room like they haven't seen hundreds identical and pretend to enjoy the food they only eat in morsels as they watch the last minutes of the game. No one says anything about the deadline, even though it's on all their minds. Instead, they talk about what they will wear to the charity gala and tear apart the new teacher at St. Paul's.

"Her skirts are so short."

"I know, completely inappropriate."

Quinn, in particular, doesn't take kindly to newcomers. "I'm telling you girls, we need to push for those uniforms at the next PTA meeting."

Bree laughs. "God, Quinn, you're ruthless."

"I'm sorry, I can't have my children around that."

After the party, she waits up until twelve for a call from Finn, but it never comes. She climbs onto their huge bed and snuggles into it contentedly. He's safe.

The next day, she picks up her children at her mother's, painfully aware her vacation's over. Willow slides into the backseat and slams the door in her face. She goes around and straps Daisy into her car seat, then heads to the passenger seat only to find out Elliott's already taken it. She maneuvers herself into the empty spot between Willow and Daisy, which, being tiny, doesn't present a problem. Her parents' chauffeur, Puck, glances at them through the rear-view mirror. He's her age, and she's known him for so long he could be a friend, and yet he is but a stranger. "Everything all right back there?"

She nods, feeling like a little girl, seated between her daughters. "Perfect."

Puck nods and gets on the road. On her right, Willow pretends to be asleep.

She tosses and turns on nights when Finn's not home. Even though they have an alarm system and every burglar protection known to mankind, she's afraid without him. During the day, too, afraid of not being able to be mother and father, or even just mother, without her husband. Sometimes, she douses herself in sleeping drops, others, she's too petrified to do even that. Tonight, she lays in bed staring at the ceiling, when she hears soft, carpeted footsteps outside her door.

"Mommy?"

She sighs. "Come in, Elliott."

He's seven, but looks about four in the powder blue footed pajamas he insists on wearing even though they're too small. He climbs into bed with her. She buries her nose in his hair and inhales her husband's shampoo.

"When is daddy coming home?"

"In, like, two days."

"That's a long time."

"Not really. Did you have a nice time at grandma's?"

"Yeah. She let me sleep with Daisy."

Oh, so that's what this is about. "Elliott, Daddy talked to you about this. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"But he's not here."

Ever since he was a toddler, it had been difficult to get Elliott to sleep in his own room, unlike Willow, who couldn't wait to get away from her, or Daisy, who was complacent even as a newborn.

It had hurt Quinn to hear her son cry himself to sleep, but Finn had insisted. Elliott had gotten used to it, even though he had nightmares regularly, especially when his father wasn't home.

"Did Willow see you come in here?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because if she did, she's gonna tell Daddy and he's gonna be upset with both of us."

"She didn't, I swear."

Quinn nods. "OK. You can stay. But just for tonight."

He falls asleep right away, a pleasant little smile on his face that's much nicer to stare at than the ceiling.

She spends the morning before Finn comes home at the country club, talking numbers with the girls. They're having brunch out in the garden, their children playing somewhere, though she can spot Elliott alone under a tree. Judy is watching him, too.

"You need to do something about that child."

"I don't know what else I can do, mamma."

"He should be playing with the other children."

"I can't force him to. Finn says to just leave him alone. He says he was like that when he was a kid."

"Was he?"

Quinn shrugs. Although it seems impossible to believe she hasn't known Finn all her life, they met in high school. By then, he was already Finn. It's hard to imagine he was once like her son.

On the other side of the table, they can hear Kitty's voice rising above the rest. "At least part of the money from the gala has to go to the pro-life campaign, you wouldn't believe how much money those people on the other side are raising-"

Quinn cuts in solemnly."I think all of the money should go to the campaign." She glances at Elliott, who is now lying on his back, looking up at the sky. "I don't get it. How can they just get rid of a baby like that?"

"Because they're cold, heartless people, Quinn." It's nothing she hasn't heard before.

Her mother pats her leg soothingly. "I think Quinn's right. We need to make the campaign a priority this year."

The women around the table, old and young, nod emphatically and Quinn smiles. At least she's doing something right.

By the time Finn gets home, she's already asleep. She doesn't hear him come in the room or slip into bed, but in the morning, she finds herself trapped under a heavy arm. She slides it down her body carefully and gets up without waking him. She pulls on a robe and goes to knock on Willow's door.

"Willow. Get up."

"What do you want?"

"I have your dress for church."

Even though Willow is still in her Hello Kitty pajamas and there is black makeup smeared all over her face, Quinn feels like she is looking at herself.

It seems Willow knows it too, because she has tried everything to look as different from her mother as possible. Her hair is dyed hot pink and cut short, and causes Quinn to remember, with a pang, the little girl with the long, blond curls who was her spitting image just a few years ago. They're about the same height now, and Quinn's afraid of her daughter, who is only four years younger that she was when she had her.

She got her a pale yellow dress with a high neckline. It will clash horribly with her hair, but what won't? Willow stares at it the way one would at a dead animal, and Quinn shrugs. "I told you to come with me."

Willow sets Finn's blue eyes on her with tremendous coolness. "You really hate me, don't you?"

Quinn shuts her eyes for a second and then opens them again, her fake eyelashes flickering like feathers on a bird. "Willow, please. I'm begging you."

They hear Finn's voice coming from the other end of the hall. "Quinn? Where are you?"

Willow snatches the dress from her and retreats into her room. Quinn hurries back and meets Finn in the kitchen. He picks her up and she buries her face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm so glad you're back."

He puts her down and looks at her with an odd little smile. "Willow giving you trouble?"

Quinn shakes her head and grabs his hand. "We have to get ready for church." He laces their fingers together and follows meekly.

Finn sets Daisy on the kitchen counter as he laces up the ballet slippers she wears everywhere to perfection, then pours two cups of hot chocolate and hands one to Elliott, who takes it with a smile. Finn brings the other to his lips just as Quinn comes in the room, wearing heels and his favorite tight, little white dress. He whistles. "Wow."

He puts the cup down and spins her around, and then they hear Willow's voice, sharp like Judy's. "No way."

Even Finn has to admit she looks ridiculous in that pink dress.

"So that's what you're wearing, and I have to wear this?"

Quinn sighs.

"Cause I have a dress just like that one that I can wear."

Quinn's eyebrows fly up in alarm. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, so you can go to church looking like a hooker, but I can't?"

Finn speaks up in warning. "Willow."

Quinn turns on her daughter. "I am a married woman, Willow. I can wear whatever I please. You, on the other hand, are not. When you have a husband-"

Finn lays a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "It's OK. Willow, go change into some jeans on something."

Willow throws her dad a grateful glance and storms off. Quinn tilts her head back to look at her husband, whose head is practically level with the chandelier in their kitchen.

"Finn, the whole reason I got her a dress was so she wouldn't wear jeans to church."

Finn wraps his arms around her. "I know. And I'm sure y'all can try again next week."

Quinn sighs resignedly and burrows into her husband's arms.

It is a few minutes until the end of service, and everyone is doing exactly the same thing they were doing all service long. Willow is texting, Quinn is wishing she could slap the phone out of her hands, Elliott is leaning against Finn's shoulder, fast asleep, and Daisy is on his lap, placidly listening to the sermon with a serene expression on her face that matches father's exactly.

On their way out, several people stop to greet Finn, to pat him on the back and say they're glad he's back. As if he had been going somewhere, Quinn thinks. Their lack of faith in him irritates her, and also, she doesn't like sharing her husband. She hurries the children along to the car, and by the time she has them all inside and strapped up, Finn has managed to free himself from the crowd.

They head over to her mother's for brunch. The food is rich and heavy, and Quinn can't find anything to eat in the house except for carrot juice and a couple of celery stalks. Finn shoots her a sympathetic glance as he piles up sausages, grits and hash-browns on his plate.

They sit around the table. Quinn's father, Russel, casts his eye upon them proudly, and Quinn feels proud too.

"So, Finn, anything interesting happen on the deadline?"

It's just like Judy, to bring up something no one wants to talk about. Finn shakes his head as he gulps down the food in his mouth with a wash of soda, and then he turns to Quinn.

"Actually, yeah. You remember my friend Sam?"

"From college? I think so." She does, vaguely, from the one time Finn brought over his frat brothers.

"Well, he got traded into the team."

"I didn't know he was still playing." She can feel her father's eyes on her, like when she was a little girl and said something she wasn't supposed to. Finn frowns."I thought I told you."

"I remember everything you say, Finn." It's true, and he knows it.

Her mother passes around a large bowl. "Mashed potatoes, Quinn?"

"No, thank you." But she grabs the bowl anyway.

Her father coughs loudly. "Sam Evans, right? Played for the Eagles?"

Finn's face lights up. "Yeah. That's him."

Quinn scoops up a large serving of mashed potatoes onto Daisy's plate. Willow dips her finger into the bowl and sucks it into her mouth as she speaks. "He was on the bench a lot."

Her grandfather nods. "Yeah. But he did some interesting things last season."

"Enough to get him noticed?"

"Yeah. He's moving into the Rosewood estate with his family next week."

Finn laughs at the pinched look on Quinn's face. "You'll like them, I promise. They have a kid who's Elliott's age."

He ruffles his son's hair fondly and Quinn smiles, mollified.