Spreading the Joy

Sybil's stomach jostled uncomfortably amid the chilly morning air, but she refused to let it bother her, although it caused her to walk slower. Instead, she focused on carrying the bucket of water back to the flat. Just as she did every day. When she arrived, she prepared the porridge for Tom's breakfast.

But the smell was somehow worse today.

Before she could begin stirring, Sybil ran for the garbage can and vomited.

"Are you certain you are all right?" Tom's voice said from behind, sounding panicky. She turned around and wiped her mouth. He rushed toward her, placing both of his warm arms on her shoulders. "You sound ill, Sybil. Do you need me to stay home today?"

It was ironic that he was more worried about her now that he realized what was causing her symptoms than before. "Tom, I've told you already; nausea and even vomiting are a normal symptom of pregnancy. I'm not ill, and it will go away soon." It was such a relief to be honest to him about everything concerning her condition, Sybil didn't know why she'd kept it a secret.

Tom was her confident; he always had been.

But his still stared into hers and his face tensed with worry. "I just don't want anything to happen to either of you." Tom caressed her stomach gently. "Especially with what happened to Mam a few months ago."

Sybil nodded, remembering all the deaths and almost deaths in the last several months. "I understand, but there is nothing to worry about right now, Tom," she said firmly. "Please go to work and write another important article. And I need to make your breakfast and bread."

Tom's arms still held her firm. "All right, but don't overdo it, Sybil. If you need help, Sheena would be willing to come to the flat. Or even Mam."

Sybil sighed, not liking either of those options. She and Sheena got on, but the other young woman was very busy with taking care of her own husband and lively son. And although Sybil and Mam got on much better than they did when Sybil had arrived in Ireland, sometimes Sybil wasn't certain where she stood with the older woman.

Out loud she said, "Tom I am fine. I promise." After all, she hadn't had any true problems with her pregnancy since she'd discovered it. Finally, she extracted herself from his arms, as pleasant as they were, and prepared the breakfast food.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Although Sybil had no serious problems with her pregnancy, it left her tired. She'd barely finished the laundry today, and the beef stew was just beginning to cook when Tom arrived that evening.

"I'm sorry that dinner isn't ready yet," she said to him with a sigh. She watched the meat simmer with longing, even though the beef was still bright pink. She was always especially hungry in the evening.

"It's fine, Sybil," Tom said. "I just want you and the baby to be all right."

"We are, Tom," Sybil said firmly. "I wish you would stop worrying."

Tom shook his head, crossing the room to put his arms around her again. "That's not possible, mo ghra," he said softly, leaning in for a kiss. Sybil immediately kissed him back, knowing this is what made it all worth it. His overprotectiveness could be annoying, but he did it because he loved her. And the baby.

"So how are things at the Irish Times?" she asked as they finally withdrew, hoping to distract him from his worries.

Tom brightened immediately. "Very well. I think I've even convinced a couple of my colleagues that nonviolent means are the best ways to secure the Irish Republic."

Sybil's heart warmed and a smile spread across her entire face. "That's wonderful."

"It might take a bit longer, but we'll do it the right way," Tom continued, his eyes flashing with passion for his republic, as they always did. "And just think, our child will grow up in that republic." He caressed her stomach again, making Sybil tingle everywhere.

Before she knew it, they were kissing again. Deeply. But as Tom tried to pull in for another kiss, Sybil sighed and shook her head. "I've got to prepare dinner, Tom. Even if you don't mind waiting, the baby does."

Tom grumbled but nodded, and Sybil munched on a carrot, while slicing the rest for the stew.

Sometimes she still felt a bit of longing to be a nurse. But moments like this, with Tom speaking of their baby and his peaceful plans for Irish independence, reminded her that everything was worth it.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"We need to tell Mam and everyone else about the baby, Sybil," Tom said that Sunday morning as they walked to church. "They deserve to know."

Sybil sighed, letting go of her husband's hand as irritation welled inside of her. Tom had said the same thing last night, but she didn't like the idea. "Tom, I wish you would stop insisting that. We don't know what might happen, and I'm not even showing." It was an odd thought for Sybil, who was usually so optimistic, but she'd also learned how common miscarriages were in nursing training. And the memory of her mother's loss several years had haunted her in the last few days.

Tom grinned and his eyes stared her in a sexual way. "I think you're showing more than you think. But as I've said before, if you have problems, you should be able to rely on Sheena and Mam."

Sybil shook her head, her hair flying all over with the wind. "But what if I cannot? Your mam hasn't always been supportive of our relationship, Tom."

Tom sighed and wrapped his arm around Sybil despite her irritation. "I know, and I'm sorry about that, but she's getting better. Besides, it's Advent, so she should have a merciful additude today." He paused again and stared at her still flat midsection. "You don't feel any problems today, do you?"

Sybil sighed and wiggled his arm off her shoulder. "No, Tom, I'm fine."

OOOOOOOOOOO

St. Paul's was fully decorated for Advent, a fact that became apparent as soon as Sybil and Tom entered the church. The alter and pulpit were covered in purple cloth and an Advent wreath stood in the front, waiting to be lit. It made the church seem full of joy, as they all prepared for Christmas.

Tom's Mam smiled also smiled at Sybil, as she'd done in the past couple of months as she sat down in the pew. Sheena asked her if she would like to hold Jimmy. Even Tom's cousins who'd lost a family member in the Easter Rising no longer gave Sybil dirty looks. She sighed. Tom was right; these people had accepted her ever since Jimmy's birthday celebration.

Sybil looked over their nephew's head and nodded at Tom.

Tom broke into a wide grin that was part joy and part his arrogant expression for being right. He could be so full of himself. "Sybil and I have an announcement to make," he said in a loud whispery voice that was appropriate for church. "Next year, we will have a baby of our own."

"News of another grandchild? What a wonderful early Christmas present," Tom's Mam said, in the same whispery voice, but sounding delighted. A wide grin spread across her entire face and her eyes sparkled. "I hope I can gather enough money for a cradle in a few months. The grandma always buys the cradle, you know."

Sheena gave Sybil a sideways hug from the pew. "I'd be happy to give you my maternity clothing and Jimmy's old baby clothes, if you'd like."

Sybil nodded, overwhelmed from the support all around her. "I'd appreciate that."

Jimmy gave Sybil and his mother a strange look. "Baby?" he asked.

Sybil took a deep breath, wondering if this were going to cause the same sort of rivalry between her child and Jimmy as Mary and Edith. They were about the same age, after all. Still, they would be cousin's, rather than siblings. "Yes," she said firmly to her nephew. "I'm going to have a baby next year."

"You won't be a baby anymore, Jimmy," Sheena said to her son. "You'll be a big boy, and you can show your younger cousin everything."

Jimmy still looked confused and squirmed in Sybil's lap until his mother took him. Nevertheless, that moment proved to her that she truly had become a part of Tom's family.

As the organ began to play and the choir sung, all Sybil could think was that she had everything she needed. In Dublin.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Everyone in Dublin prepared for Christmas. Each Sunday, another candle on the Advent wreath was lit, and Tom insisted they place a candle in the window of their flat, and candles appeared in countless other windows. Sybil found enough money to buy her husband a tie which he would open on Christmas.

Amidst it all, Tom continued to fuss over Sybil's pregnancy.

One late morning, as Sybil finished eating another piece of bread, there was a knock at the door. Opening the door, she saw Sheena with Jimmy, and a basket of groceries. She was dressed in a simple tan dress and her brown hair was braided, although it appeared that Jimmy may have been playing with it a bit.

"I thought I'd do your shopping today, Sybil," she said with a friendly smile. Inside the basket were pieces of lamb and carrots that Sybil used for stew, but also flour, eggs, and buttermilk that she used to make the bread. Peaking from behind the milk was also a bit of ginger, which was said to alleviate nausea.

Sighing, Sybil took the basket. "Tom told you to check on me, didn't he?" She could never decide whether to feel loved, annoyed, or both when her husband did these things. Today, she was more annoyed. "I cannot tell how many times I've insisted that both the baby and I are fine, and he need not panic every time I vomit in the morning."

Sheena chuckled and she and Jimmy walked inside the flat, still clutching his mother's hand. "He's an expectant father, Sybil. You can't believe he wouldn't be nervous. Besides, I remember how pregnancy is. Not only the nausea, but the extreme tiredness, and how overwhelming everything becomes. I had Mam's help, and you should have help, too."

Sheena was right; pregnancy could be overwhelming sometimes. But Sybil could still do it. "I'm still perfectly capable of doing what needs to be done," she said firmly, as she picked up the carrots.

Sheena shook her head just as firmly, her braid shaking a bit. "Sit down and play with Jimmy," she said, pointing to one of the chairs in the kitchen. "I know you are used to being the caregiver, Sybil, considering you were a nurse, but sometimes it's necessary to accept help, too."

Sybil sat down with a sigh. "It's not just that, Sheena. I know you mean well, and you've always been friendly to me, but so many people here still expect me to be too overwhelmed by all the chores I do here. They still see me as "Lady Sybil" instead of Mrs. Branson. I feel the need to prove them all wrong."

Sybil sighed and changed her focus to Jimmy. "So how long have you been walking, Jimmy? When I see you in church, you usually sitting on your mam's lap. But you walked right into this flat like a big boy!"

Jimmy grinned widely, showing his adorable chubby cheeks, but said nothing.

"He's been walking for about two months now," Sheena said proudly, still putting the groceries away. "Now, how about we help you with the laundry?"

Sybil immediately bristled. "I can – " she began, before thinking.

"I know you can do it yourself, but that doesn't mean you should, Sybil," Sheena said before Sybil could finish. "As I said, pregnancy is tiring, and it's all right to have assistance. Mam helped me sometimes with these kinds of things when I was pregnant with Jimmy." She gave wrapped her arms around Sybil, making her feel warm despite the chilly day. "I'll retrieve the water; you gather the clothing."

Gathering the clothing ended up being more complicated than usual, with Jimmy dragging one piece of clothing along at a time. But the child was so innocent and eager to help that Sybil couldn't scold him.

"Do you ever get homesick?" Sheena asked suddenly as she began scrubbing the clothing several moments later. "I would if I were you, especially during this time of year. And with the pregnancy…"

Sybil sighed, wondering how to answer. Could anyone truly understand? Still, Sheena had offered friendship since the very beginning, so perhaps she was easier to speak. "I suppose I do. Mama would have the house decorated with holly berries and mistletoe by now and would be preparing for the Christmas tree. I do love my family, you know." Despite herself, her eyes watered as she thought of Mama and Papa, Mary, Edith, and even Mathew.

Silly hormones, she thought as she rinsed Tom's shirt and tried to find a place to dry it.

"Of course, you do, and I'm sorry you can't be with them," Sheena said, scrubbing one of Sybil's blouses. Jimmy put his hands in the water, too, determined to "help" as well.

Sybil shook her head as stray tears ran down her face. "But even though I love them, I don't necessarily want that, Sheena. The truth is that I was never meant to be a great lady or have the lifestyle my family does. And the only person who ever understood that was Tom. And even though life in Ireland isn't what I expected it would be, it still suits me better."

"Well, I'm glad you're here, Sybil," Sheena said. "We can raise our children together."

Sybil nodded, still trying to find a place to hang Tom's shirt. "This was a lot easier when I could hang them outdoors."

Sheena nodded, too. "Just be glad you don't have as many clothes to dry as Mam does," she said with a chuckle.

OOOOOOOOOO

Sheena didn't come to the flat every day, but she did come often. Sometimes the other woman came in the late morning or early afternoon with a basket of groceries, other times she arrived right after Tom left for work, ready to do the morning dishes. Often Sybil struggled to accept, bit Sheena reminded her that everyone needs help when they are pregnant.

And despite herself, a part of Sybil appreciated that. But even more, she loved Sheena's friendly ear and opportunity to see Jimmy.

Meanwhile, Tom was still a combination of eagerness and nerves about Sybil and the baby. The rest of his mind focused on The Irish Times and the future of the Republic.

One evening, Tom arrived at the flat wearing a scowl. "I take it things didn't go well today," Sybil said with a sigh. "Well, your sister bought us an onion today, so well have that in our stew in addition to potatoes and carrots." She finished slicing the rest of the vegetables and through them into the stew, all the while still munching on a tasty carrot.

"Well, the IRA had captured Sir John French, remember I said he was the Lord Lieutenant here, but he escaped." His face wrinkled into an even harder scowl as he shouted, "We could have used him as collateral to get the British to agree to our demands!"

Sybil almost spit out the carrot she'd been chewing. "Sir John is not 'collateral,' Tom, he is a person, just like me and you. And how do you know the IRA weren't planning on killing him? What about what they did to poor Detective Smyth?"

Tom huffed in frustration but then sighed. "I suppose I don't know. I'd like to think they wouldn't. But you are right, Sybil. There are too many Irish who see British as 'inherently evil.' I just…every time I think there is a possiblity to move forward with the republic, the British government blocks our way."

"You'll get there, Tom," Sybil said softly, looking into his eyes and seeing his soul. "You just need to be patient and convince them to do it the right way. Just like you did when you convinced me to marry you."

"Oh, my ghra, you are so good to me," Tom said giving Sybil a kiss that tingled her from head to toe.

"I'd love to continue but we all need to eat. Especially the baby," Sybil said reluctantly pulling away from him to stir the stew. The lamb meat mixed with the onion, carrots, and potatoes to smell irresistible. She was tempted to scoop up a bowl right now, though the meat wasn't fully cooked.

She took another bite of the stray carrot stick while she waited longingly for dinner to cook.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Several more dinners later, it was Christmas and Sybil and Tom attended Mass. The church was decorated in white, and the choir sang beautiful music. Sybil wore her best green dress, which was rather tight at the midsection, but still fit. All of Tom's relatives smiled at her, and Mam whispered with questions about her grandchild.

It was a nice Christmas, full of joy.

Afterwards, Tom opened the grey tie Sybil had bought him. "You'll look handsome when you wear it to the office," she said with a wide grin as he smiled at her.

"Definitely," Tom said with a nod. "And I got this for you." He handed her a heavy paper bag. Inside was a new baking sheet. "You're bread has become fantastic in the last few months, and since you've been making so much bread since you've become pregnant," Tom said, as Sybil stared at it. "It's kind of a present for you and the baby."

"Oh, Tom," she said, her eyes filling with tears at his thoughtfulness. "I love it."

There was also something from Mama. A nice letter wishing Sybil and Tom a happy Christmas, and a large package addressed just to Sybil. She sighed, wishing her family would start accepting she and Tom were a unit now.

But what was inside the package made Sybil groan out loud in frustration.

It was a fancy, cashmere shawl, appropriate for attending church at Downton, a shoot, or perhaps a winter nuptial. Nothing that she would wear in Dublin as Mrs. Branson. "Mama still doesn't understand me or my life here," Sybil said, shaking her head.

Tom's face morphed into a scowl as he stared at the expensive shawl. "I suppose she sent it as some sort of message, that our life here isn't good enough for you. I wish I could tell her that we have everything we need here."

Sybil sighed. "We do have everything we need, especially considering Brigid already sent me that woolen shawl when the cold weather began. But I don't think Mama was trying to send a message, Tom. For all her frivolousness, Mama does try to understand everyone. And she's been writing regularly since I've arrived, as an attempt to involve herself in my life. She just…still doesn't realize how different my priorities are here. How much things have changed, even in the last two months." She patted her stomach.

"You're gift is perfect, Tom," Sybil said, pointing to the baking sheet. "It shows you appreciate the food I make and the life I've embraced, and it's something to fee the little one, considering how fond they are of bread." They giggled thinking of how many pieces of bread Sybil could eat in one day. It wasn't uncommon for her to make two loaves a day now.

"But Mama's…" she sighed again, looking from the baking sheet, to Tom, and then to the fancy shawl. "We'll have to sell it," Sybil said finally, with a firm nod. "We can use the money to buy baby items. I know your mother wants to buy the cradle, but perhaps we could go half and half? And we need nappies, and carriers, and all sorts of things."

All at once, Tom's arms wrapped around her tightly. "I love you, Sybil. I don't know anyone else who would decide to sell a cashmere shawl to buy baby items." With that, their lips moved together and kissed, cementing the decision.

"I'll write to Mama and explain why her gift is inappropriate," Sybil said when they finally withdrew. "Maybe next Christmas, she'll understand better. Besides, she'll want to know about the baby." She lived such a separate life from her own family now, but Sybil still dreamed of them embracing her new family someday. Would they ever visit? Perhaps a grandchild would be enough of an incitive.

Tom nodded. "Fine, but now, we need to go to Mam's for Christmas Dinner. We cannot miss her plum cake for dessert, Sybil; it's the only day of the year she makes something other than cookies."

Sybil nodded, picking up her woolen shawl and wrapping it around her shoulders. "So, you've said." He'd spoken of family's Christmas dinner for days; Sybil supposed he was eager to celebrate it with his own family for the first time in years.

"And remember, it has no plums in it," Tom said as they walked into the cold air.

"I've grown up on plum pudding, remember," Sybil said with a chuckle and a smile. "I'm used to the concept." The weather was cold, but the day was still full of joy.

This story will still have an epilogue that will take place just after Mary and Mathew's wedding, but I really don't know when I will post it.

I also am planning a one shot set in this universe about Sybil's first St. Patrick's Day in Ireland, that will focus on her relationship with Tom's mother. I warn you, however, that story will be rather Catholic – focused.