Chapter Ten

"Did you ever consider that maybe I would enjoy a day of shopping as well?"

I take a moment to finish arranging my last hairpin and inspect my reflection in the mirrored vanity one last time before swiveling to face Anakin with a deliberate eye roll. "Since when are you interested in shopping, Ani?"

He blinks at me with a wide-eyed cherubic expression that contradicts the mischief lurking in his eyes. "I don't know, but I could be."

I can see easily through his ruse though. He has been dreading this day since the moment I suggested it to him and now that it has finally arrived, he's doing all that he can to avoid going through with it. I can't understand how a man who had managed to strike abject terror in the heart of any who opposed him could be so unnerved by the prospect of spending an entire day with his father-in-law.

Our last day on Naboo has finally come. We've spent nearly thirteen full planetary rotations here and much has changed since our arrival. Anakin and I arrived as two young people still traversing the uncharted territory of a new romantic relationship, but we will be leaving as husband and wife.

As expected, my family was shocked by the news of our elopement. Surprise, however, had gradually given way to disappointment, concern, and outright disapproval as they steadily became accustomed to the reality. Sola had been saddened because, unlike me, she had envisioned my wedding day on countless occasions and the role she might assume as sister of the bride. For her, not having been a part of my matrimonial ceremony to Anakin seemed like a loss. She had felt excluded, doubly so when she learned that both Dormé and Sabé had been invited.

My father expressed similar regrets as well, but he also had concerns about whether I was ready for the heavy responsibility that I was assuming. While Sola and Mom are largely unaware of the demons Anakin battles continually, because he is nothing except patient, unfailingly charming and dashing with them both, my father has been observing Anakin in his quieter moments. He is perfectly aware of how restless my husband is at night, how Anakin often walks the house gardens, sometimes until dawn, when he can't sleep. When my father asked me about it, I told him what I could, which was basically very little besides admitting that what had occurred with Palpatine had done great psychological damage to Anakin.

"Of all the people Palpatine betrayed, Anakin is foremost," I had revealed to my father, "He viewed the Chancellor as family and trusted him completely. It was difficult for him to learn that he had been little more than a pawn the entire time."

Of course, then Dad had followed up with the most logical next question. Was Anakin undergoing any sort of therapy to deal with his feelings? From his perspective, the enduring agitation that seemed to plague his new son-in-law went well beyond feelings of betrayal and sadness. He keenly discerned that there were deeper issues involved for my new husband and my reluctance to talk about it only made him more fearful. And upon learning that Anakin was resistant to the idea of seeking help for those issues, his concern had further intensified almost to the point where he implied that he felt I'd made a mistake.

"I won't force you to share the details, Padmé," he'd reassured me, "But it is evident to me that Anakin is very troubled. That sort of thing can put a strain on a new marriage, especially if he's shown no interest in seeking help. It's not your responsibility to fix what's broken. Anakin has to want that for himself."

"It's not a matter of wanting help, Dad, but whether or not Anakin believes he can be helped."

Soon after that my father developed a wild hair to spend "one on one" time with his new son-in-law. I had put it off as long as I could for Anakin's sake, because I knew it wasn't a prospect he would welcome. He was fine with my family as long as I was there to serve as a buffer, but I wasn't sure how he would fair if I wasn't there to temper the awkwardness. Eventually I ran out of valid reasons to refuse my father and now Anakin is scheduled to spend our last day on Naboo primarily in his company. He isn't exactly thrilled by the prospect.

As for me, I will be spending our last day here with my mother, sister, and nieces on a shopping excursion. It will be the last opportunity I will have to smooth things over with Sola and Mom before Anakin and I return to Tatooine. I have also arranged an appointment to see a physician at the end of the day to receive the first in what will become regular, quarterly hormonal injections to prevent pregnancy. It is not an appointment I can afford to miss, especially because I doubt such services are readily available in the Outer Rim. If I am going to make amends with my sister and mother, I will need to make the very best use of my time.

I'm suddenly jarred from my musings when Anakin flings himself across the bed with a loud, theatrical groan. "Do I really have to do this, Padmé?" he whines, flopping onto his back.

"I thought you liked my father, Ani," I reply mildly.

"I do. But I already know how this is going to go. He's going to spend the next four hours trying to convince me of the joys of woodworking or botany or some other profession I don't care about." He scowls up at the ceiling. "What is everyone's preoccupation with trying to give me jobs that I have zero interest in?"

"Maybe because they're normal people who don't see podracing as a reasonable career choice," I reply with a meaningful look.

Anakin rolls onto his side to face me, propping himself up onto his elbow. "Maybe it's not reasonable, but at least it's fun."

Refusing to be drawn into another circular argument with him about why podracing shouldn't be considered a career aspiration at all, I change the subject altogether instead. "Thank you for agreeing to spend the day with him," I tell him sincerely, "You're his son-in-law now, Ani. I would like you to be closer to him."

"I understand. Besides, it's the least I can do after everything I've put you and your family through. The fact that he's been so accepting of me and our marriage is far more than I deserve," he says, "I'm sorry for complaining. I'm being dramatic."

I grin at him. "Yes, you do have a flare for that."

"It's part of my charm. You learn to love it."

"If you say so," I laugh.

"At least there's one good thing that will come from this day."

"Oh? Just one?"

"Well, the best thing then," he quickly amends with a sheepish smile before hitching his chin towards the ornate, wooden box on the bedside table, "After today, I won't have to use those blasted things ever again."

Contraceptive sheaths. A marvelous feat of ingenuity designed specifically for men for the prevention of pregnancy and certain unsavory diseases. That is the literal advertisement. Anakin complains endlessly each time he's forced to pause in the middle of ravishing me to roll one on. He's adamant that they dull sensation and kill spontaneity (which I can agree with) and that there is nothing more gratifying than being skin to skin during sex (which I also agree with). I simply find it ironic that he can be so steadfast in his desire NOT to father a child but also be equally unenthused to use the methods available to him to prevent conception. But that is my husband. Always a paradox.

"Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you?" he asks me.

"It will be a quick appointment. Routine bloodwork and then the injection," I reply, "You could go with me, but I know you'll be bored out of your mind, Anakin."

"This is true." He smiles at me sweetly, his unruly blond hair flopping over his eyes. "I'm going to miss you though."

I can't help it. With no thought to how I'm likely about to endanger my carefully arranged hair, I go bounding over to the bed to tackle him and pepper his face with kisses because he looks so impossibly kissable right now. "I'm going to miss you too."

When I go into the city with my mother, sister, and nieces, I take the memory of those sweet kisses with me. Shopping in the plaza begins as a tense affair. I'm grateful that Ryoo and Pooja accompany us because then the curt, one-word responses from my mother aren't quite as glaring when coalesced with their girlish chatter.

Sola isn't nearly as overt in her unhappiness. She, at least, attempts to make conversation with me though there is an undercurrent of accusation and disappointment in every word. I know that if I have any hope of dispelling the hurt feelings between us, I will need to isolate them and speak to each alone. I start with my mother.

While Sola preoccupies the girls with throwing coins into the fountain at the center of the plaza courtyard, my mother and I take a seat on a nearby bench to watch them play. "Mama," I sigh after we sit together in silence for a few minutes, "I hate having this contention between us. Can we please make peace before I leave?"

"I just wonder when you stopped trusting me, Padmé," she murmurs sadly.

"Why would you think that I don't trust you?"

"You never mentioned Anakin to your father or me at all," she says, "We had to learn of his existence on the Holonet of all places!"

"I'm sorry for that. It wasn't deliberate. My relationship with Anakin was still very new when everything happened with Palpatine."

"But you had fallen in love with him long before that," she concludes with a knowing look.

"Yes. Yes, I had."

"You told Sola, but you said nothing to me."

"And what if I had?" I challenge her softly, "At the time, Anakin was widely known as a fallen Jedi who was working for Jabba the Hutt and making a name for himself as a podracer. You would have never approved of him."

She chuckles wryly at the accusation, making no attempt to refute it. "You're right. When I imagined you finally taking the time to find romance, Anakin Skywalker would not have been the man I had envisioned for you at all."

"Who did you envision?"

"Senator Rush Clovis has an incredible future ahead of himself," she ponders aloud after a moment.

I'm rolling my eyes in exasperation before she can complete her entire thought. "Oh, Star's End, Mother—,"

"—or, at least, he had a bright future before his corruption was revealed," she continues with a deep scowl, "But, before all of that unpleasant business came to light, he seemed like the perfect choice for you…cultured, wealthy, incredibly handsome, a man who would share and encourage your political ambitions."

"Anakin encourages me too," I argue vehemently, "He's not the reason I decided to resign from the Senate, Mama."

"I know. You did that because of Sheev Palpatine." I swivel a startled glance at her, unprepared for her perceptive and quiet response. "The day you left for Coruscant to take your senate seat, I entrusted Sheev with your safety," she admits quietly, "He promised me that he would watch over you as if you were his own. I trusted him too, Padmé. We were all fooled."

"It's not only that he lied and manipulated us all. He tried to have me killed. I thought he cared about me, but it was all a lie."

She reaches over to take my hand and give my fingers a reassuring squeeze. "You cannot allow what happened with him to disillusion you entirely," she advises me, "There is still much good you can do."

"I can't…" I tell her in a strained tone and I know my conflicted feelings are easily discernible to her ears, "…Anakin…he needs me."

"So, you did resign for his sake?" she concludes tartly.

"No! That is something he would never ask or want," I tell her, "But he needs to be my priority right now. He's my husband. He should take precedence over everything else."

I cannot explain to her how a past version of me had failed to put Anakin first and that her failure had led to unmitigated disaster and grief. That other Padmé, the Padmé I had once been, had been so duty bound, so focused on her service to the Galaxy that she had allowed her marriage, her own husband to be relegated to second place. But I am unwilling to do that. While I know my work in the Senate held great importance and part of me still yearns to be there, my marriage means so much more, and I am determined to put it in first place this time.

"You're very devoted to him, aren't you?" my mother inquires thoughtfully.

"He is equally devoted to me," I assert in a quiet tone, "No one has ever made me as happy as he does."

"Yes. I can see that. You practically glow when you speak of him," she says, "And I've never seen you smile quite as brightly as you do when you're in his presence."

"I love him more than words can express, Mom."

"Fine," she sighs in capitulation, "I will try to give him the benefit of the doubt, my dear one…for your sake."

Later that morning, we find ourselves browsing an antique doll shop. The atmosphere is more relaxed now that my mother's attitude is less frosty. While the girls exuberantly pull their grandmother from one corner of the store to the other, pointing out each hand-crafted doll that strikes their fancy, Sola purposely hangs back with me. We follow them at a conspicuous distance, observing with amused smiles as Ryoo and Pooja try to talk our mother into buying everything in the boutique.

"It seems you've finally smoothed matters over with our mother," Sola observes wryly, "Is it my turn now?"

Rather than being evasive, I decide to follow Sola's example and take the direct approach instead. "I didn't cut you out deliberately, Sola." She arches a dubious eyebrow at my denial, unconvinced. Duly chastened, I quickly amend, "Alright. Perhaps it was deliberate. But you would have tried to talk me out of it had I confided in you."

"And Sabé didn't attempt to do the same?"

"With all due respect, Sola, Sabé isn't quite as overbearing as you are."

Sola inhales dramatically at the charge, pressing her hand to her breast in theatrical affront. "Are you implying, dear sister, that you find me to be a bully?"

"Those are your words, not mine."

She is briefly distracted from making a sarcastic retort by her rowdy daughters. Sola takes a moment to admonish them sharply for their behavior and, only after she's certain they will behave themselves does she turn and address me again. "I'm surprised Jobal is allowing them to be so unruly," she mutters under her breath, "She would have never tolerated such behavior from us."

I smirk at her. "Does Mom know that you refer to her so informally?"

Sola loops her arms with mine, a playful smile curving her lips. "That can remain our little secret," she says with a conspiratorial wink, "You see, Padmé? I'm perfectly capable of trusting you with mine."

The implied admonishment in her tone provokes my weary sigh, and I slip my arm from hers. "It wasn't anything that I planned, Sola."

"So, you and Anakin weren't intending to marry then?"

"Not that day. It was a spur of the moment decision."

"You decided to make a lifetime commitment on 'the spur of the moment?'" she exclaims incredulously.

"Don't make it sound like that!"

"Sound like what?"

"Like it was a thoughtless action on my part!"

"Did you or did you not just say it wasn't planned?"

"Sola, I've known almost since the day that Anakin and I were reunited that I wanted to be his wife."

"Now you sound like a schoolgirl," she chides me, "You've never struck me as the type to give into fanciful notions like 'love at first sight.'"

"I'm not that type." Her expression conveys her deep skepticism of my claim. "Anakin and I have always had a special bond, since that first moment we met on Tatooine," I tell her, "I never forgot him, Sola, even after we lost touch when he began his training as a Jedi. I always knew that our paths would cross again. I just never imagined that I would fall in love with him."

"He left the Jedi Order to be with you, didn't he?"

"Anakin left the Order for many reasons," I say, "But the Jedi do not permit attachment. He couldn't be with me and remain with the Order."

"Does that bother you at all?" Sola wonders, "Knowing that he's sacrificed so much to be with you?"

I can't say that the knowledge "bothers" me, but it does indicate just how deeply committed Anakin is to me and our love. I am just as deeply committed to him. I tell Sola that. "I would sacrifice just as much to be with him."

By the conclusion of our shopping excursion, it is very late in the afternoon. Mom, Sola, and I are on much better terms. I wonder if Anakin's time with my father has been equally successful. I can only assume the best since he hasn't comm'd me once all afternoon.

The girls, having been on their feet most of the day, have grown cranky and hungry. Mom and Sola express serious doubts that Ryoo and Pooja will be able to make it back to the house for dinner and not have a serious meltdown in the interim. Mom suggests that we stop by a local bistro for a late lunch/early dinner, but with my appointment looming I decline joining them. Instead, I walk with them to the eatery before striking off on my own when they disappear into the restaurant.

I'm barely a block away when my sister comes running up behind to join me. I swivel to face her with a startled frown. "Has something happened? Is it Mom?"

"Everyone is fine. I decided to accompany you instead," she explains breathlessly.

"But I thought you were having lunch with Mom and the girls."

"We can meet them back at the house later."

"I'm not really up to having company, Sola," I hedge uneasily.

While she and Mom were both aware that I had other plans following our excursion today, they didn't know the details. Though communication has improved, I'm not sure either of them are ready to discuss the nuances of my sex life with Anakin. In fact, the impression I've gotten from my mother is that is one topic she would be happy to avoid indefinitely. Sola, however, doesn't seem as keen on that sentiment, and she proves that with her next statement.

"Padmé, are you pregnant?" she demands flatly, "Is that the reason you and Anakin rushed to get married?"

"No! Please tell me you didn't suggest that to Mom!"

"Of course not! She's oblivious. But you've been acting secretive all afternoon. What else am I supposed to think?"

"I'm not pregnant," I reassure her, "In fact, I'm on my way to the doctor right now to make sure I stay that way."

"Oh," Sola replies, her fiery bluster abruptly fizzling, "Well, that's good. Not that I'm opposed to becoming an aunt but…you and Anakin have plenty of time to start a family. You should focus on each other for now."

"That's the plan. Although, I'm not sure if Anakin and I will ever start a family," I confess to her before I can stop myself, "He told me he doesn't want children."

"That's quite surprising," Sola says, "He's very natural with Ryoo and Pooja. They adore him."

"I know. But he says he's not ready to be a father right now. Maybe never."

"And how do you feel about that?" she prods when I fall silent.

"There's still time for him to change his mind."

Although I've avoided answering her question directly, what I say is still enough to provoke Sola's groan of dismay. "Oh, Padmé," she laments, "That is not sound judgment at all. You and Anakin need to be on the same page otherwise it will only lead to misunderstandings!"

"We are on the same page!" I insist, "Why do you think I'm going to this appointment in the first place?"

"But you're hoping he'll change his mind," she says, "It's written all over your face." I avert my eyes at the accusation, but don't bother with a denial. Sola sighs unhappily. "I don't presume to know why Anakin feels the way that he does, but I do know that it's unfair to place unrealistic expectations on him, Padmé. You'll only hurt yourself and him."

I lift my chin dismissively, not wanting to reveal that her words are creating fissures of doubt in my heart. "You said it yourself, Sola. You have no idea why Anakin feels as he does. I do, and I know what's best for my husband!" When I spy the hurt that flashes across her face with my harsh reply, I try to rein in my temper. "I don't want to fight with you," I murmur, "I know what I'm doing. Please trust me."

As I hurry along to my appointment, leaving Sola standing behind me on the footpath, I try not to obsess over her words of warning. They are difficult to banish. Not for the first time, I find myself wondering if I am making a mistake by not having a more direct conversation with Anakin about our respective expectations for the future. On one hand, it seems ridiculous to have an extensive dialogue about future children when we are both in agreement that the prospect is still years away. On the other hand, however, while I am convinced that one day the right time for children will come, Anakin seems reluctant to consider it at all. I've avoided pushing the subject because I don't want to provoke a fight.

And is it worth it? It isn't as if I want us to plan for a baby right now. Given our present circumstances, it's a non-issue. Two or three years from now, when we're both in a more stable place emotionally and physically, we can discuss it at length. Who knows what the future will bring? Surely, Anakin and I will be on the "same page" by then. At least, that is what I tell myself to dispel my remaining doubts.

By the time I arrive at the medical office, I am feeling less anxious about my conversation with my sister. I'm resolved not to worry because, technically, I have nothing to worry about. The future will bring what it brings. I can only live in the moment, focus on today. And today, once this appointment is concluded, any talk of children will all be a moot point anyway.

I'm called back after only a few minutes of waiting. A clinically efficient medical droid escorts me back to a pristine treatment room with gleaming white walls and furnished an adjustable exam table. The treating physician enters shortly after and meticulously reviews my medical history, scribbling notes studiously into his datapad. He barely makes any eye contact.

When he is finished, he explains to me that he will need to perform a routine pelvic exam as part of my visit. I've had one before, when I was just sixteen years old. I find the experience to be just as unpleasant at 25 as it had been then, but thankfully it is over after a few minutes. Afterwards, the physician instructs his medical droid to collect several tubes of blood.

"We should have the results from your pelvic exam and the bloodwork in a few minutes," the physician explains, "My medical droid will return to discuss those results and administer your injection. As long as there are no health concerns, you should be free to go after that."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Once he exits, I begin gathering my clothes. I wonder a little over how uncomplicated the entire process has been. So routine and mundane. It seems inconsistent with what feels like an exceptionally weighty decision to me. Perhaps because I can't help but worry if it will prove to be "just for now" as Anakin had reassured me weeks ago or if it might be "forever" instead. My fear that it might be the latter continues to nag at me.

I have only just finished pulling back on my clothing when the medical droid returns. The physician had assured me the results would come quickly but it feels to me as if he and the droid had only exited the room a few minutes earlier. Startled, I clumsily stuff my feet back into my satin slippers and straighten to face the droid.

"Are my results back already?" I ask in surprise, "That was much faster than expected."

"Yes," the droid confirms, "I am afraid you are ineligible for the injection at this time."

"Ineligible?" I repeat with a frown, growing alarmed, "Why? Should I be concerned? Was there something amiss with my test results?"

"Your hormone levels indicate that you are currently 4 to 6 weeks gestation. Please accept my congratulations at this time."

I gape at him in disbelief, blinking several times. "Excuse me?"

"According to the date of your last menstruation, you will be due to give birth in approximately 35 weeks and six days."

The room does a crazy tilt with his reply. I blindly grab for the edge of the examination table to keep from toppling over. "I don't understand," I mumble numbly.

But I do. I understand very well. I'm pregnant. I. Am. Pregnant. There is a baby growing inside me. Anakin and I made a baby. My mind is racing, but a quick mental calculation confirms that I likely conceived that very first night with him on Tatooine, when we made love so many times that I lost count. This entire time we've been making such a production of being so careful when it was already too late.

I palm my forehead in shock, feeling clammy and faint. "I can't believe this is happening…"

"I assume this news is unexpected for you," the droid says.

A maniacal, warbling laugh escapes me and it sounds crazed even to my own ears. "You could say that!"

The droid seems unfazed that I am practically melting down in front of him. He handles the matter with mechanical aplomb. "If you are unhappy with these circumstances, we offer termination services at our sister clinic," he says matter-of-factly, "Would you like to make an appointment at this time?"

I stare at him in stupefied silence, horrified to realize I don't have a ready answer to that at all.