Chapter 21:
It was kind of a long drive. Perfect.
Daphne snuggled up next to Freddie in the backseat of the limo. It had happened. It had really happened.
For so long, the wedding had been a far-off fantasy. It started off as something the kids in the schoolyard dreamed up when they wanted to taunt Freddie or Daphne. Then it was a dim possibility that hovered over virtually every date in high school: Could this be the one? By the time they made up after their last breakup ever, no one could deny that it was a distinctly likely potential outcome.
But now it had happened.
One might have expressed more conversation from two newlyweds, as the chauffeur noted with some confusion. Yet the truth was that Freddie and Daphne were communicating through that mysterious link that forms between people who love each other, that link between the eyes that sends an unadorned message of nothing other than pure, hopeful love.
Even so, they had to talk eventually.
They kept their voices low; Daphne knew the chauffeur in question and found it quite likely he was going deaf anyway; still, there was an odd sense of privacy violation that made the couple wish they had just driven the Mystery Machine down to Florida, but of course they would have been the only ones who thought it proper to do so. Everyone seemed very surprised that Daphne, coming from her wealthy background, wasn't more of a bridezilla. Figures.
"Excited?" Fred almost whispered.
"Yeah..." Daphne responded, smiling. "You know, this might be the only trip we ever take alone together. At least, until this kid's in college..."
"Well, we can take lots of family vacations together," Fred offered, daydreaming. Then he added, "We could take the kids to Disneyworld..."
"Kids?" Daphne asked him mischievously. "So you think we'll have more than one?"
"Sure... at least, assuming Janice turns out all right..." Freddie had agreed to Janice as a name, on the condition that, on the off-chance it was a boy, they could name him Daniel instead. "I mean, what if we're bad parents or something?" he added, half satirical-worried, half real-worried.
"I think as long as you change a few diapers, feed her, make sure she doesn't do drugs, and give all her boyfriends something to be scared of, Janice will be okay." Daphne looked over at Freddie, the boyfriend who had many a warning "be sure and get her home by nine-thirty." Fred smiled back.
Suddenly, Fred's memories came back in a rush, all of the memories. From first meeting Mr. Blake; to avoiding his mild frustration at the idea of Fred dating his daughter; to facing him after Daphne told him that Fred had fathered her child; to watching his frail, weakened form merrily watching his little girl get married... everything seemed to blur together in a vague spectrum of indifferent, adventurous, scary, sad, and wonderful memories. This was his father too, now...
Daphne looked at Freddie, tears in her eyes. She was clearly thinking the exact same things, and almost certainly to a greater extent. Somehow, it was becoming harder and harder to think about parenthood without realizing what was happening to Daphne's own father. Fred wished to comfort his wife (using that term felt amazing), but what could he say? That modern medicine was really good, that maybe Mr. Blake would be lucky?
No, there was no lying to his wife. Besides, they both knew that the whole hopefully-he'll-make-it phase had somehow been over before Daphne even knew about her father's illness. He was going. If only he could hang in there just a while longer, just long enough to meet his granddaughter.
Freddie wished for exactly that. He wanted it for Daphne. Somehow, everything would somehow be better if only she could be granted that much.
The slightly-crying Daphne was leaning across her husband's lap. She could have been asleep (as she was apt to do when she was leaning on him) or simply lost in the deepest thought. Freddie didn't know which; that wasn't so important now. What was important was letting her know that crying was okay, that she could be happy and sad on the very same day, even if that day were her wedding day. He stroked her hair gently, letting her confide in him without using any language other than love.
After hours and hours, the limo stopped in front of the hotel. At this point both were asleep; the chauffeur had to come around and wake them up. They climbed up to their room, 128, and despite the oddest of grief-hope pairings they spent a very magical night...