A/N: There are only two chapters left to this story, and the one posted below is my favorite. It's the one that prompted me to write the Birthday story. I truly appreciate everyone who takes the time to read and review, feedback is treasure.
Elizabeth Draper let out a soft moan as the alarm clock droned on, indicating that it was time to start another day. Yet Betty couldn't hide her smile that morning – her birthday, a day that would finally be dedicated to her after spending the last two months focusing primarily on their newborn, Eugene Scott Draper. She stole a glance at her husband, surprised to find him still asleep. He's been working himself ragged lately, Betty thought to herself, hopping out of bed to start the morning coffee. She wondered what special treat he had planned for her that day; in their decade long marriage he had never once forgotten or failed to surprise her. It was his charismatic touch that took the sting out of becoming another year older, acquiring more lines on her face that were becoming harder to hide. Padding down the halls, she was relieved to find her children still asleep. Grabbing a stool in the kitchen, Betty started the coffee, relishing a moment of silence that was becoming more and more uncommon.
Betty hummed to herself as she started breakfast for her family: pancakes for Sally and Bobby, and formula for baby Gene. She was finally beginning to feel better about herself, two months after having the baby. Watching the pancakes from the skillet, Betty called for Sally and Bobby to wake up for day camp.
In their pajamas, the children raced down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Happy Birthday, Mommy," they chanted, wolfing down full plates. As they raced back up the stairs to get dressed, Betty dropped the dishes off in the sink, turning the water on.
The coffee was finally ready to be served. Grabbing two mugs from the shelf, Betty poured two cups and placed them on the table. Inhaling the strong aroma, Betty stole a sip for herself before Don came down. She would have to keep herself busy all day while Don was away at work, knowing that he would be hers for the evening.
Don's footsteps broke her from her thoughts. "Good morning," she called, handing him his cup of coffee.
"Morning," Don murmured, taking the mug without looking at her. He was engrossed with the newspaper headlines. "Hilton's ad is bringing him a new slew of business for the hotels," Don said, very proud of himself.
"That's wonderful," Betty complimented.
Don's eyes shot up at the clock. "I gotta go to work." Don crossed over to give Betty a brief peck on the cheek.
Betty let out a staggered breath as Don walked down the hall. "Wait," Betty called after him, stopping him at the door. "Don't you have something to say to me today?" she asked softy, her eyes probing his.
Don gave her one of his trademark, 'what' looks. "What's there to say?" he asked.
Betty blinked her eyes to keep from crying. "Nothing," she said quickly, backing out of the hallway before he could ask questions. Betty stepped back in the kitchen, listening to Don close the door behind him. Betty quickly turned on the faucet. He doesn't know what today is, she thought to herself, tears beginning to fall.
Don greeted his secretary Allison with a satisfied smile.
"Good morning, Mr. Draper," Allison said, closing the door to his office behind her. "I've got your morning meetings all set up for you. I'm assuming you'll be taking off early today."
"Why would you think that?" Don laughed, taking a seat behind his desk.
Allison furrowed her brow. "Today's your wife's birthday. You always leave work early that day to spend more time with her."
Don's mouth opened wide.
"Oh Mr. Draper," Allison said under her breath.
"I forgot her birthday," Don said out loud.
"Is there anything you want me to do?" Allison asked awkwardly.
Don shook his head. "I'd like to be alone right now."
"Your meeting…"
"Cancel it!" Don snapped.
Allison lowered her head, doing exactly as she was told.
Don flipped open the copy of his calendar on his desk. In red lettering, the words 'Betty's Birthday' screamed across the page. Not once in their ten years of marriage did Don ever forget her birthday. No matter what was going on between them, that was one thing that remained constant. Putting his head in his hands, Don wondered what his next step should be. He had spoken to her over an hour ago; there was little point in calling her now to apologize for forgetting. Time for a grand gesture, Don coached himself. Years of wining and dining clients taught him that the bigger the gesture, the more positive the response, and Don knew that he would need a miracle to fix his mistake.
"Allison, come in here please," Don said into the intercom.
Allison rushed into the room. "Yes, Mr. Draper," she said expectantly.
"Get Conrad Hilton on the phone," he instructed.
"Yes sir."
"And Allison?"
The young secretary looked at him with nervous eyes.
"You're fine," Don reassured her, letting her know that the fault was with him and not her.
Allison breathed a short sigh of relief as she retrieved the phone number for Hilton hotels owner Conrad Hilton. "Line one," she told her boss.
"Hello Conrad – it's Don. I have a really big favor to ask of you."
Betty examined old wedding photos, grateful that the kids were at day camp and didn't have to see her. He actually forgot Betty sobbed to herself, dabbing her eyes with an old tissue. Looking to the phone, Betty felt the urge to call her father – to hear his rough yet comforting voice once again. Betty let out a staggered breath, faced with the reality that her father was no longer with her, succumbing to ill health a few months earlier. He never managed to meet his second grandson and namesake; Betty had comforted herself with the fact that the newest Draper had her father's name, a piece of him that could remain with her for years to come.
Betty placed the framed photos back on the mantle, careful not to smudge the frame. Walking to the liquor cabinet, she examined the contents in an effort to choose her poison for the midmorning. Betty eyed the unopened bottle of red wine – an extra from an old party – and popped open the container. Pouring her glass half full, Betty opted to lounge on the living room sofa, watching the neighborhood from the window. Taking a large swallow of the red liquid, Betty relished the fruity taste. Drinking was often an escape from the current situation, whether it was anger, loneliness, grief, or a little of all three. "I can only stay like this for so long," Betty said out loud, suddenly having a tremendous itch to leave the house. Jotting down a quick note for Carla, Betty grabbed her purse and keys.
Betty aimlessly wandered through one of Ossining's many shopping centers. Thank goodness for Carla, Betty thought to herself, knowing that the house would be kept in perfect order while she was gone. She was thankful for the distraction of shopping, but even the opportunity of a new wardrobe wasn't enough to lift her spirits. There was no amount of shoes, scarves, or sunglasses to alleviate the aching feeling inside of her.
She was surprised that it had never happened sooner. Betty often felt distanced from her husband, who seemed to prefer the fast-paced life of the city to their home in the suburbs. There were nights when he wouldn't come home at all, but what was worse were the nights when did come home – and didn't talk to her- or so much as look in her direction. It was as if he was there and yet he wasn't at the same time. Betty didn't know how he was able to do it so well, she could barely stand it.
Yet each year he always came through, even when work kept him elsewhere. Through pregnancies, fights, the passing of her mother two years ago, and separating the year before – he never once forgot.
"Could there be another woman?" Betty wondered, thumbing a deep blue scarf. "It would explain the late hours and the phone calls." Betty dropped the garment and kept walking. She wouldn't put it past him, having gone down this road with him before. How could I trick myself into thinking that he would change?
Betty placed her packages in the back of her grandfather's Lincoln, resting her sunglasses on her forehead. "Time to go home," she mused, revving the engine. I wonder what kind of day he is having.
Betty carried her assortment of packages and treasures into the house. I'll get my revenge on him when he sees the bill, she smirked to herself.
Carla quickly greeted Betty with the afternoon news. "The children are playing upstairs and there's a package for you in the den," Carla said, balancing a laundry basket on her hip.
Betty thanked Carla, examining the scarlet red wrapping. Lifting the lid, Betty covered her mouth in surprise. An emerald green dress rested perfectly in the confines of the box. Betty bent down to touch the satin green fabric. She thumbed a note, resting on the neckline and read it aloud. "Wear this tonight, a car will be there at five to pick you up." Clicking her tongue, Betty carried the box upstairs. The card was unsigned, but she had no doubt regarding the identity of the sender. "It will take more than a dress to get yourself out of this one," Betty said, shutting the door behind her.
Betty put the finishing touches on her face for the evening. What if it isn't Don, Betty wondered, applying her eye shadow. There was one other possible answer, one other candidate – the gentleman from the Derby Day party that summer a few months back. Their encounter was brief but memorable; Henry Francis was able to charm her in a matter of moments with his genuine interest in her current condition. He made it seem like they were the only two people at the party, that the whole day was about them and no one else. Fate brought them together once more when she enlisted his help in preserving the Hudson River Valley. Her lobbying was successful and the valley was preserved. Henry had expressed an interest in her, though she had declined seeing him, given the small town population. Does he even know that it's my birthday, Betty wondered. Betty shook her head, the scenario was preposterous, and in the smallest chance that it might be true, she would return the gift to him, this time with a firmer stance.
"Mommy, the car is here!" Sally bolted into the room with Polly wagging her tail behind her.
"Sally, what did I tell you about knocking first?" Betty asked, standing up.
"Sorry Mommy," Sally quietly approached her. "I was just so excited for you – it's a real limousine."
Betty smoothed Sally's hair. "You be good for Carla."
Sally nodded her head, walking Betty down the stairs. Calling out a quick goodbye to Bobby, Betty scooted into the vehicle. With her hands in her lap she wondered where she was going. There's no way that this day can get any worse can it Betty thought to herself as the driver started down the street.
Betty's eyes widened as the limo pulled into an abandoned field. In the center was a large passenger plane. What in the world, Betty thought as the driver came to her passenger side and opened the door. Offering her his arm, he walked her to the plane ramp.
"Have a goodnight Miss," the driver called, popping open the trunk and retrieving a large suitcase.
Betty ducked into the plane and let out an audible gasp at the setting: a candlelit dinner for two complete with flowers and music playing from a stereo in the corner.
A figure arose from the side of the plane. "Happy Birthday, Birdie."
Betty's mouth formed a fine line. "I should have stood have stood you up," she retorted, crossing her arms.
"I suppose I couldn't blame you if you did," Don chuckled in an effort to ease the mood. "If it's any consolation to you I feel terrible.
"You feel terrible," Betty let out a small laugh. "How do you think I feel?" Her cheeks reddened; "You forgot my birthday."
"I'm sorry," Don gently approached her. "I've been thinking about you all day."
"How sweet," Betty mused with a hint of sarcasm. "You thought dinner together would make up for this?"
"Think of it as a small start," Don said, taking her hand. "We haven't had dinner alone once this week."
"Three weeks," Betty corrected, taking a seat and reaching for a full wineglass.
"Work keeps me busy," Don said sheepishly, knowing that he was in enough trouble as it was.
"Conrad Hilton," Betty drawled, taking a large sip from her wineglass.
"He gave us the plane," Don said, lifting the lid to one of the silver trays.
"A plane," Betty said curiously, lifting a silver fork to her Caesar Salad. "He must really like you," she smirked.
"Did I tell you how beautiful you look?" Don asked, massaging her right hand.
"Not yet," Betty said, her expression softening. "Someone left me the most beautiful dress today."
"Someone with wonderful taste?" Don prodded.
"You could say that."
"The outfit isn't complete yet." Don ducked one hand under the table and produced a long, grey felt box.
"Don," Betty said as she touched the lid. "This really is too much."
Don shook his head. "Nothing is too much for the woman I love."
Betty lifted the lid, squealing as she lifted a long emerald necklace out of the box.
Don crossed over to her side, clasping the jewelry around her neck. "Now you're perfect."
A new song began on the stereo as Don effortlessly led Betty to the middle of the plane area. "I miss this," he said softly, one hand resting at the small of her back.
"So do I," Betty murmured, resting her forehead against his chest.
Don kissed her forehead, holding her closer. "How was your day?"
"I went shopping – I needed a distraction."
"I'm sorry for putting you through this. And not just tonight."
"I felt so alone today. I couldn't talk to Daddy, I couldn't talk to you." Betty's voice began to shake. "I actually thought…I thought you were having an affair." Betty buried her face in Don's chest, unable to look at him.
"Elizabeth." Don tilted her chin up with his left forefinger. "I'm so sorry." He slowly rubbed her back. "There's no one else, I've just been so busy with work. Keeping up with Hilton, keeping track of new business, keeping current business satisfied…" Don's voice trailed off. "You are the only one for me, Birdie – I don't want anyone else."
"Me neither," Betty said with a small smile, pushing thoughts of Henry out of her mind for good.
Don pressed his lips against hers in a deep kiss. Betty melted in his arms as he led her over to the sofa.
"We should do this more often," Betty murmured.
"Forget your birthday?" Don joked, receiving a pout from Betty.
"Where exactly are we going on this plane?" Betty asked, smoothing her dress.
"That's the best part," Don winked at her, reaching for the globe on the end table. "We have the plane for three whole days."
"Three days," Betty's eyes widened. "That's why there's a suitcase."
"Um-hum." Don sat down next to her. "We can go anywhere in the world – it's your choice."
"Wow," Betty said spinning the globe with her pointer finger. "What about the kids?"
"Carla is staying at the house for the weekend."
"What exactly did she pack in the suitcase?" Betty wondered aloud.
"We can always buy anything that we don't already have with us," Don assured her, wrapping an arm around her neck.
Betty snuggled closer. "I've never been to the Jamaican Islands – I bet the weather is wonderful there."
"Jamaica it is then," Don agreed, kissing her on the mouth. "I'm going to tell the pilot what the plans are – and make sure the cook is ready for dinner."
Betty nodded her head as Don walked behind the curtain. Snuggling under a blanket, Betty leaned back against the couch, finally content after what would have seemed to be one of the very worst birthdays ever. He loves me, she reminded herself, and I love him.
"Are you cold?" Don asked, taking a seat next to her, pulling her body closer to his.
"Not anymore," Betty sighed, relishing the evening.
"Good. Happy Birthday." Don leaned against the back of the couch.
"Thank-you for thinking of me," Betty said, closing her eyes.
"I could never forget you, not in a million years." The soft music lulled the couple to an early slumber, both content to be near each other once more.