Series: Snapshots of the Past
Story: Say You Love Me Too
Chapter 8
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Previously: Abbey cast aside her fears and agreed to move back to New Hampshire when Lizzie had trouble coping with the problems her family faced
Summary: Jed, Abbey, and Ellie band together to help Liz get ready; A familiar piece of music stirs strong emotions; Abbey has troubling memories she tries to hide; her feelings towards Jed deepening, Abbey inches herself closer to him
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Superficial as it may seem, the art of braiding hair is an acquired talent that only gets better with time. Tight braids, loose braids, braids that allow voluminous tresses to fall carelessly out of the entangled strands structured to hold a simple ribbon or a delicate barrette can be a quite a challenge, especially for an eleven-year-old.
Discouraged with her inability to control her thick mane, Elizabeth grumbled under her breath as her fingers continued the process of pulling one section of hair over the other. Abbey stood just outside the doorway, her presence only detected when she moved slightly and the mirror caught her reflection.
"What?" Liz curiously asked.
"Nothing. I'm just watching," she replied. "And wondering how long it's going to take you to ask for help."
"Can you? Your hands."
Abbey looked to her hands, discouraged, but willing to try. "I can do at least a good job as you're doing," she teased gently as Liz gave her a brush, a royal blue ribbon, and hair pins. "So what are we going for here?"
"I want a ribboned French braid with a bun at the bottom."
Abbey held a lock of hair and draped it over her hand as she prepared to separate it into three sections. Suddenly, her eyes squinted as if she was trying to make a fuzzy vision into a clear memory. She had been here before, in this situation. She and a younger Lizzie sat on her bed one morning and as she finagled a ribbon into her hair, the little girl tilted her head back to ask a question. Abbey clearly remembered.
"Why do you call me baby doll?"
She fought to hold on to the memory before it left her as quickly as the others had. She knew the answer for she had already realized the striking resemblance between her older daughter and the beautiful doll she had been given as a child. Now, she was fighting to remember Lizzie's reaction to the answer she must have given all those years ago.
But it was a futile attempt, one that filled her with anger as she was drawn back to the frustrating present.
Her fingers were unable to bend painlessly. She flinched with each stroke until she finally succumbed to the discomfort. "I'm sorry."
"That's okay." Concealing her disappointment, Lizzie took the brush out of her hand.
"Wait. I have an idea."
Little sisters are wonderful companions. Aiming to please and always ready to help, they take advantage of every opportunity to make their older siblings proud.
Ellie Bartlet was no exception.
She ran towards her mother and sister, her springy curls bouncing with her sprint as she came to a stop just outside the bathroom door.
"Ellie?" Liz wasn't as confident as Abbey.
"She'll be great," she said to her older daughter before turning her attention to the younger one. "Do you want to help me fix your sister's hair?"
Thrilled to be asked, Ellie enthusiastically nodded. "Yeah!"
The trio moved to the sofa, where Ellie and Abbey sat on a cushion with Liz positioned on the carpet below. Abbey held a lock of hair in one hand and instructed Ellie to twirl another lock underneath it. No matter how hard she tried, the four-year-old's tiny hands just weren't big enough to properly turn the thick tresses that spilled from between her fingers. Within minutes, the elegant hairstyle Lizzie imagined looked more like a mangled weave of frizz.
"I'm sorry, Lizzie." Ellie's voice held much sadness when she was forced to admit the disaster she helped create.
"It's no big deal," Liz lied in response.
But it was quite obvious it was a big deal. As one of the stars of her ballet recital, Lizzie was hoping for a fashionable hairstyle that differed from her classmates, one that resembled a 'do sported by older, more sophisticated ballerinas.
She took back her pins and twisted her hair into an unkempt bun, securing it tightly at the base of her head before retreating to the bathroom.
Upset and eager to help, Abbey had one last idea. "Jed!"
"What?" He called out from the bedroom.
"Can you come here a sec?"
He made his entrance dressed only in a pair of shorts and a Notre Dame T-shirt. His messy hair and red eyes were a result of his exhaustion, the exhaustion that had plagued him since the night of his wife's attack.
"What?" he asked, piercing into her gaze.
"You're nowhere near ready to go."
"I was about to jump in the shower."
"Well, first, we need your help." She stood up and led him to the sofa, allowing him her seat. "Lizzie come back out here."
"What's going on?" Jed grew suspicious as Abbey instructed Liz to sit down in front of him.
"You're going to braid her hair."
"What?" His eyes widened at the realization that he was expected to do something he had never done before. "Abbey! I have no idea how to braid hair."
"I'm going to teach you and Ellie's going to help."
Jed tipped Liz's head back to look at her face. "Why does your hair have to be braided? Why can't you wear a bun like you usually do?"
"Because," Abbey interjected before Liz could answer. "She's the lead and she needs to look like it. This is important."
Mother and daughter exchanged a sweet smile which only compounded Jed's reluctance. "I don't know how to do this."
"You'll be fine," Abbey insisted. "Now first, grab a small lock of hair."
"What the hell's a lock?"
"Daddy!" Lizzie squirmed as he pulled lightly on clump instead.
"Here, Daddy." Ellie offered a smaller portion of soft, silky waves.
"Good job, Ellie. Take that from her, Jed and then separate two more sections just like it and wrap the ribbon around them."
Bewildered at how difficult the task actually was, Jed stifled his objection and did as Abbey instructed, twisting and turning his daughter's long chestnut hair, and letting out a few disgruntled sighs along the way, until the braid was complete.
A tingling sensation took hold of Abbey's limbs. The sight before her provoked such a strong response that she could feel the strength of the love she had for her husband.
Jed held Ellie's wrist as she twisted the end into a bun, resting comfortably against the base of Liz's hairline. "How's that?"
"I think it's perfect," Abbey answered.
Liz leapt to her feet and excitedly ran towards the bathroom with her compact in-hand. "It IS perfect! Thank you!"
Jed flashed Abbey a closed-lip smile overflowing with appreciation for guiding him through the arduous process. "May I go take my shower now?"
"Of course," she replied. "And you better make it quick. We have to leave in 30 minutes."
"Yes ma'am. And what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to fix my makeup."
"Me too!" Ellie shouted as she raced her mother to the bathroom.
"Nice try, Munchkin."
"I wanna look like Lizzie. She gets to wear makeup."
"Only when she's on stage," Abbey corrected. "And when you're on stage, you can wear it too."
"Good luck with that," Liz warned. "Ellie's shy. She doesn't like performing."
Abbey knew that. She wasn't sure how, but she knew that. "Well, we'll just have to get her into something she's comfortable with," she responded with a delicate flip of Ellie's golden spirals.
"Dad wants to enroll her in dance or theater. Something to make her face her fear."
"We'll have to talk to about that. I'm not sure that's the best approach." She stopped herself momentarily when she recognized that she had just acknowledged her role in Ellie's upbringing.
It came naturally, yet subtly. It was a start.
The first few days after Abbey moved back to New Hampshire were marred with tension. But now, that tension was slowly starting to lose its foundation and she began to settle in comfortably to the notion that this was her home. Memories had begun to saturate her thoughts. Quick flashes of the past penetrated virtually every scene in the present, at least where the girls were concerned.
Notably disturbing, the visions that permeated her mind never included her marriage. She and Jed were usually the backdrop in memories focused on one of her daughters. She struggled with the torment that came from not remembering the man whom she vowed to love forever, the man to whom, confusingly, she was drawn.
His gentle demeanor and patience were admirable. But that wasn't all she liked about him. As she slept night after night on the sofabed in the den, a sense of familiarity kept her awake and restless. It was the same feeling one gets when something is on the tip of their tongue, frustratingly out of reach of the brain. The only thing left to do is to give it leeway until it flows naturally from within.
And that's what she was doing now.
As Abbey applied powder to her skin, a sudden burst of music shook her. She dropped her hands to the side and left the bathroom. "What is that?"
"What?" Lizzie asked holding a record in her hand.
"The song you just played. What is that?"
"It's an Italian song. Daddy bought it a few years ago."
"Can I see?"
"Yeah." Liz cautiously handed it to her. "I was just trying to find my recital album so I could practice before we go."
"That's fine. I didn't mean to scare you. I just thought it was a beautiful song."
It was Vieni Su, the Italian aria that she and Jed danced to during a romantic weekend in Venice. Though the memory was still lost, the captivating melody enticed her. The few lyrics she heard awakened emotions that she didn't even know existed.
She stood perfectly still, her eyes still glazing over the record up until the moment she returned it to its home. She would listen to it again sometime, when she was alone, away from prying eyes enthusiastically waiting for any glimpse of progress towards her former life.
Her doctors had encouraged this. The senses are key to regaining one's memory when it's voluntarily eradicated. She had been told that songs from her past could definitely stir her subconscious, but she didn't realize just how powerful a role this particular piece of music would play in the psychodrama she was living. At least, not until now.
She erased her uneasiness with a swipe of her eyes and a quick touch of her hair as Jed approached. Perhaps it was the few seconds of the song she just heard. Or maybe it was the warmth that tickled her heart when he braided their daughter's hair.
Maybe it was just him.
When she turned to face him, only one thought ran through her. He was so handsome. The glimmer of shine from his sparkling blue eyes was hypnotic. His light brown mane of hair was so perfectly styled, it was hard to believe it was in shambles just a half hour earlier.
He presented her with the golden cuff links he couldn't manage himself and she took in the scent of his cologne, the soft touch of his skin as her fingers grazed his wrist before he realized she couldn't help him. He turned instead to Liz to snap the ornaments into place.
Her stare left his cuffs and streamed up his shirt. A white shirt is usually just a white shirt, but not on this man. He looked different in it. On Jed, it was more professional. More powerful. More presidential. His outer beauty notwithstanding, Abbey found herself mesmerized by his stature. His confidence glowed as his commanding presence had turned the room into a silent sanctuary.
His kindness and affection had originally grabbed her attention, but what she saw now drove her deeper into the depths of comprehension. This was the essence of the person she had married, the one to whom she had pledged her lifelong commitment, and finally, about that, there wasn't even a hint of confusion. She understood why.
"Is everyone ready?" he asked.
"Yeah. I think so."
Ellie chased Liz towards the car while Abbey stared at a roaming Jed. He picked up his jacket and flipped it over his head in the famous Jed Bartlet maneuver.
He immediately noticed her smile in response. "What?"
"Why do you put on your jacket like that?"
"It's something I learned to do a few years ago."
"Why?"
"Shoulder injury. I had an accident in Boston."
"What kind of accident?"
He paused for a moment, his hesitation apparent. But it soon faded, losing the battle to honesty. "I ran into some thugs with a knife."
Her face paled as she absorbed the words. But instead of remembering the fact that she was the one who found her husband, injured and bloodied in an alleyway, Abbey's thoughts drifted to her own attack. A split second of a painful memory in which she tried to fight off the shiny blade of a knife meant for her body altered her attitude completely.
"Abbey?" he called out to her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you that."
"No, I'm glad you did. I just hate that anyone hurt you."
She wanted to ask more. She wanted details of the night that defined the permanent scars to his shoulder. But fear kept her quiet. Fear that, in turn, she'd remember her own attack, her own attacker, her own fight for her life. She wasn't ready to remember that yet.
So instead, she fixated on his hands as they tightened the tie already situated around his neck. "Are you okay?"
"Of course," she lied, unwilling to admit that another flash burned her mind with an image of a similar tie, one that kept scraping against her eyes during the struggle with the person who accosted her that fateful night.
She had become a master of denial in the two weeks since she stumbled into that hospital. Her physical therapy barely started, she was having doubts about continuing. Her psychological therapy had been postponed by choice. She wouldn't push herself. She had said that repeatedly. She would avoid what she couldn't handle and focus on what she could - a philosophy that seemed to benefit Jed, at least for now.
"I wanted to ask you something," she started.
"Sure. What is it?"
She nervously bit down on her lip. "Before you came to pick up Ellie last week, you had asked me if I wanted to have dinner with you."
"Yeah?"
"I'd like to do that now. Maybe tomorrow. Whenever you have time."
"With the girls?"
"Just us this time. I'd like to talk."
Optimism clouding every other thought, Jed swallowed his breath to keep from erupting into joyful tears.
"Okay," he simply answered as he extended his hand to lead her out the door.
TBC