Story: Phoenix
Chapter 10
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Previously: Hashem asked Jed for help when he admitted his work permit was revoked and the family would be deported; Jed turned his attention to the rising price of milk when he realized Hashem filled his baby's bottle with water
Summary: Preparing Thanksgiving dinner involves the whole family; Abbey tries to reassure Ellie yet again; Jed is confronted by a political rival who offers him a harsh warning
"Pinch. Pinch. Pinch."
Ellie shouted out the instruction with each and every pinch of the pie crust. Abbey had stationed her on the step stool next to the counter, but the five-year-old had greater aspirations. As soon as her mother disappeared into the other room, she climbed onto the countertop and tucked her knees under her so she could bend forward with ease, her little fingers positioned for all the pinches.
"Ellie!" Abbey hollered at the first sight of her daughter's forbidden perch. "You know you're not supposed to be up there!"
"But I couldn't reach."
"Did you ask Lizzie to help you?"
"No!" Lizzie answered from the kitchen table as she peeled a potato.
Ellie's head dropped in that contrite way it always did when she feared she was about to get into trouble. Her strawberry blonde curls brushed past her shoulders and hugged both her rosy cheeks as she wrapped her pudgy arms around Abbey's neck and dangled her feet, waiting to be picked up.
"Yeah, you certainly are cute." Unable to resist the sweet embrace, Abbey pulled her off the counter. "But from now on, you stay where I tell you to, okay?"
"Okay." Ellie held on tighter when she felt her mother's grip loosen. "No, hold me."
"I can't hold you too long, Sweetie. You know that." Abbey lowered her to the stool.
"But I like it when you hold me."
"Ellie, Mom can't hold you right now because she's pregnant," Lizzie reminded her.
This was exactly why the pregnancy had become such a source of resentment for the little girl. "After the baby's born, will you hold me again?"
Her voice was strained with the smallest inkling of anguish that melted Abbey's heart. "I would hold you forever if I could. I'd never, ever let you go."
"Really?"
"Really. But I don't think I'll be able to do that. You know why?"
"Why?"
"Because you're getting so big that I bet by next year, you won't even want me to hold you. In fact, I think you'll be strong enough to hold me." While she hadn't yet mastered the magic formula to take away Ellie's insecurities, her answer did garner a light giggle.
"No, I won't."
"I guess we'll just have to wait and see, huh? In the meantime, eat your vitamin." Abbey handed her the Flintstone vitamin she had abandoned an hour earlier.
"Do I have to?"
"Yes, Ma'am." She laughed as Ellie scrunched her face at the taste of the sour pill. "All right, come on, Goldilocks. We need to finish this pie and set it aside before Daddy starts picking at it."
His ears instinctively ringing, Jed hurried out of the bedroom and joined the threesome in the kitchen. He was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a forest green Dartmouth sweatshirt. His hair was still damp from his shower and a few stray strands shadowed his forehead, just barely flicking his lashes when he blinked.
"I heard my name," he said as he brushed up against Abbey, giving her a whiff of the lavender scent she immediately recognized.
"You smell awfully familiar," she teased. "Did someone run out of shampoo?"
"Yes, I used your shampoo," he admitted with a grin. "Is that a problem?"
"Not at all. I just know you hate smelling like me." Abbey ran her fingers through the brown tresses.
"It's not that I hate it." He gripped her hips as she continued to style his wet mane. "It's that it's a feminine scent. I'm...you know...a man."
"Yes, I noticed" She lifted her head to press her lips into his for a quick kiss. "And your manly locks of hair certainly prove it."
"I'll pick up some REAL shampoo tomorrow." Jed walked around her on his way to the fridge.
"Actually, you could go now."
He took out a carton of orange juice and turned to find Abbey handing him a glass. "It's Thanksgiving."
"It is Thanksgiving. And you forgot the green beans."
"I didn't forget the green beans," he insisted as he poured the juice then returned the carton to its home.
"Jed, you forgot the green beans. I gave you a list and you forgot the green beans."
"No. I simply didn't buy the green beans." He took a sip after flashing her a cocky smile. "We have corn and potatoes and broccoli and carrots. Why do we need green beans?" No matter how hard anyone tried, no one could get Jed Bartlet to like his green beans.
"Because my parents love them. And so do I, for that matter."
"Yeah, well, Lizzie and I hate them. Don't we, Sweetheart?" Lizzie reluctantly nodded. Eleven years of experience had taught her not to voluntarily get between her mother and father on discussions like these.
"I like them too, Mommy!" Ellie hadn't learned that lesson yet.
"You see that?" Abbey addressed Jed, grateful for Ellie's support. "Are you going to deny your five-year-old daughter the thing she loves the most on Thanksgiving?"
"Oh, that's cold, Abigail." Jed pushed aside his glass and examined the apple pie sitting in front of him. Abbey moved it out of his reach.
"Lizzie, you wanna go with your Dad to make sure he picks up some green beans?"
"I'm writing my list," Lizzie replied.
"List of what?"
"All the things I'm thankful for."
Jed's eyes lit up at the mere mention of an alternative to the family tradition that inevitably led to boredom every year. "That's a great idea! We always come to awkward pauses at the dinner table. We should all have them written out."
"You can do that later," Abbey suggested, her eyes glued to her husband's prying fingers snaking around the aluminum pan.
"I think she should do it now." His index finger had barely touched the edge of the crust when Abbey slapped the back of his hand. "Hey!"
"Stop picking at the pie!"
"You know, until a second ago, one of the things I was thankful for was the fact that you didn't hit." In an exaggerated gesture of surrender, he grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl.
"Poor baby. I know how much you loathe false impressions." Abbey's tone was obviously laced with a hint of a chuckle. "You'll have to go to the store in Lebanon. They're the only ones still open."
"Fine, I'll go to Lebanon." Jed strolled past her, but Abbey looped her arm in his to turn him back around.
"Not until you dry your hair."
"Abbey!" Sometimes, Jed could be a bigger baby than Lizzie and Ellie.
"It's 40 degrees outside!" And sometimes, Abbey was a stricter parent with him than she was with the girls.
"I'm a grown man!" He never missed an opportunity to share that.
"You think there might be a reason you have to keep reminding me?"
He wasn't going to lose this battle, not in front of his daughters. "I can make my own decisions, Sugar Plum. And today, I'm going to leave the house with wet hair."
Abbey bit down on her lower lip, knowing the anticipation of her reaction was driving him crazy. "Okay."
"Okay?" How unlike her to acquiesce that easily. Jed was suspicious. "What do you mean okay?"
"I mean okay. Fine. All right. You win." Her face was beaming with manipulation. "You're a grown-up. You can do what you want."
"That's right."
"That's right," she repeated. "Just don't expect my sympathy when you're sick with pneumonia."
Jed squinted his eyes as his glare shifted slightly. He grabbed his coat, secretly snatching a hat to wear on his dampened head. "Come on, Lizzie. Lets go."
He handed her her coat. "Daddy, what about the Plight of the Pilgrims?"
No holiday in the Bartlet house was ever complete without a history lesson from Jed. Usually, his stories were packed with trivia and little known facts that generated a chorus of growls when shared. But underneath the superficial protests, Lizzie and Abbey had to admit, his charming tales only made the holidays more festive.
"I'll tell you in the car."
"What about me?" For the first time, Ellie showed interest in her father's Thanksgiving story.
"You wanna hear the Plight of the Pilgrims, Sweetheart?" Jed waited for the nod before approaching her. "Then I guess you'll have to come with us." He threw her into the air and caught her as gravity helped her down.
"Okay!" Unfortunately, her enthusiasm was short-lived. Realizing that Abbey wasn't going to join them, Ellie held out her hands to her mother.
"Ellie, I'm going to take a nap."
"I wanna take a nap too!" Those words had never been spoken by either of her daughters.
"You wanna take a nap?" Jed asked as he held her.
"Uh huh! With Mommy!" Ellie kicked her feet at Jed's waist, a clear indication she wanted to get down.
"Yeah, okay." He set her down. "You're going to miss the Plight of the Pilgrims."
She shrugged sadly. "I know."
Ellie's attachment to her mother wasn't healthy. Jed and Abbey had spent hours discussing how to help their young daughter cope with the pregnancy, but all the reassurances in the world hadn't improved the situation. They hoped the birth of the new baby and their interaction with Ellie afterwards would convince her that her place in the family was meticulously guarded. Until then, they'd just have to adjust.
Jed kneeled down in front of her, holding her tiny hands in his. "Tell you what. When we get back and you and Mommy wake up, I'll give you a special private version of the Plight of the Pilgrims. Does that sound like a plan?"
She emphatically nodded with a fierce hug as she pushed herself into him. He kissed her cheek and ruffled the top of her hair as he rose to his feet.
Ellie watched Lizzie and Jed leave, oblivious to Abbey's footsteps sneaking up behind her. "Okay, Miss Eleanor, you wanna help me prepare a cinnamon log before we take our nap?"
The thought of the sugary treat was enough to distract her. "Yeah!" She jumped onto the step stool and waited for Abbey to bring her the leftover pie crust.
"Okay, mash it down." Ellie pounded on it several times then made room for Abbey to flatten it.
"Mommy?"
"Yeah?"
"How long do you have to go away when the baby comes?"
Abbey held the roller with one hand and lifted Ellie's droopy chin with the other. "I'll only be in the hospital for a couple of days. And your dad's going to bring you there to see me."
"He will?" She was genuinely surprised.
"Of course he will."
Suddenly, her entire demeanor changed. "Can I sprinkle the cinnamon?"
Abbey poured a pinch of cinnamon and a dash of sugar into her palms. "Make sure it goes all over."
"Okay!" A few grains spilled through her fingers.
"Careful, Sweetie. Don't let it all fall to one spot."
"I won't."
She looked on with a proud smile as Ellie's brows furrowed in concentration. "You know how much I love you?"
"Beyond the sun, the moon, and the stars..."
"...to eternity and back," Abbey finished. "That's never going to change."
Ellie didn't verbally respond, but her teal-colored eyes sparkled at the sentiment as she continued to distribute the toppings as evenly as possible. It would take even more to convince her, but the daily reminders of love certainly did help.
Meanwhile, Jed and Lizzie braved the cool temperatures without protest. They walked side by side out of the grocery store, Jed carrying the small paper bag stuffed with several cans of green beans.
"And your mother thinks it's cold out here," he muttered practically under his breath.
"It is cold."
"Nonsense! Cold, Elizabeth, is when I was your age and it was 22 below outside. I had to trudge my way through five feet of snow, holding 10 pounds of books, just to make it to school on time."
"Daddy?"
"Yeah?"
"You lived with your dad in prep school. And he lived on campus."
Jed shot her a disapproving look. "It was still a long walk, Young Lady." Lizzie suppressed further objection. "The point is, today is not cold and your mother said it was."
"Then why are you still wearing the hat?"
He raised his hand to the black knit hat on his head. "Oh yeah. Remind me to take it off before we get home."
"Why?"
"Because..."
"Jed!" Jed and Lizzie looked up to see one of Jed's colleagues sprinting towards them.
"Oh God," Jed whispered softly when he realized who it was. "Alan! How are you?" The two men shook hands. "This is my daughter, Lizzie."
"Elizabeth," Lizzie corrected with a nudge to her father. "Hi."
"I see you weren't exaggerating one bit, Jed. She certainly is a vision of loveliness, even prettier than in her picture." Lizzie hung her head with a sheepish smile as Alan turned his attention to Jed. "Last minute shopping?"
"Yeah. Abbey insists we need green beans for dinner tonight. We got vegetables up the wazoo, but apparently, Thanksgiving just isn't Thanksgiving without green beans."
"Daddy!" Lizzie admonished.
"But I do not argue," Jed quickly added.
"I'm in the same boat," Alan replied. "Jed, could we talk for a second?"
Jed noticed Alan's hesitance, his head nodding in a gesture for privacy. "Of course. Lizzie, you wanna wait in the car?"
"Okay." She took the keys from her father and opened the car door.
"What's going on?" Alan was Jed's political rival on nearly every issue that came before the state legislature. This parking lot encounter was hardly a coincidence.
"You've been making some calls this week?"
"Yes." The impromptu conversation now made sense. "I've been calling some of our colleagues."
"You've been asking them to vote against any measure to protect the farmers?" Alan stuffed his hands into his pocket and moved away from the car. Jed followed.
"Not exactly. What I'm asking is that we take into account all the men and women we're supposed to represent."
"We are."
"Are we?" Jed questioned.
"Of course we are. We live in New Hampshire. Our economy depends on what's happening with the dairy farmers. When they profit, we all profit."
"Thanks for the business lesson."
There wasn't a single person on the receiving end of Jed's sarcasm that didn't feel the sting. "I'm serious!"
"You're serious? I have a doctorate in economics, Alan. That's how serious I am. So don't insult me by assuming my decision was based on ignorance instead of logical analysis."
"Why are you going after the farmers?"
"I'm not going after the farmers. I'm looking out for people, people like Ron and Gwen McPherson, who live in your district by the way."
Alan shrugged at the curve ball Jed had thrown. "Who the hell are Ron and Gwen McPherson?"
There was no better example to demonstrate Jed's point. "A couple who can't afford to buy milk and cheese. A couple who, until recently, was the biggest customer at the Corner Stop."
"The Corner Stop has many regular customers."
"It's a mom and pop shop, Alan!" Jed snapped. "It's run by a 60-year-old man and his 55-year-old wife. They need all the customers they can get to stay alive. Or did you forget that little fact when you torpedoed the small business amendment on last year's crime bill?"
Tempers were flaring on both ends. Lizzie tried to ignore the harsh tones and rising voices, but it was a futile attempt. She climbed onto her knees and watched through the rear window.
"I know very well what the owners of the Corner Stop need," Alan replied, a bit calmer now.
"They need customers. They no longer have Ron and Gwen McPherson. And if you don't think there are other families just like them..."
"You don't think that supporting a bill to keep competition from other dairy farmers out of this state will eventually trickle down to people like Ron and Gwen McPherson?"
"No, because that's revisionist politics. It never works in the short-term, but somehow, years later, some historian will rewrite it with a successful ending. The only way to help people like the McPhersons is to actually help the McPhersons."
"We can't help them or anyone else if our dairy farmers can't make ends meet."
Jed scoffed at the notion, once again offended by the Alan's need to argue the obvious. "You know how economists study the economy, Alan? By comparing the cost of milk. And in the past ten years, it's steadily risen to an all-time high, bypassing everything else, including increases in the price of eggs and the cost of gasoline."
"The cost of eggs and gas has gone up since last year, while the price of milk has actually gone down."
"To a national average of more than a buck a gallon! Consumers have seen the biggest hike in the past decade than they ever have before - and you still want more?"
"THEY want more, Jed. The farmers. Our farmers. And they make up quite a hefty portion of the population of this state."
"I represent more than just the farmers." Jed stepped closer to his car, resting his hand on the trunk. "You decrease New Hampshire's dairy prices, you increase the state's share of the market. You ship our goods to other states and you make up the profit."
"That's what you suggest?" Alan was visibly skeptical.
"Yeah. That's what I suggest."
"And when other states do the same to compete for our consumers? Then what? Farmers put in the same amount of work for less than half what they would be making elsewhere?"
Jed shook his head in disbelief. Alan wasn't seeing the whole picture, the possible failure that teetered at the edge of this costly venture. "If you propose this dairy compact and it falls through the cracks, or if Vermont decides to bail at the last minute and the entire debate comes to a standstill, then you've got one hell of a problem on your hands and it's going to start with the producers in upstate New York."
The underestimation ran both ways. Alan really wasn't as ignorant as Jed assumed. "That's why it's important that we all stand together, that we don't have detractors working behind the scenes to make sure we fail."
"That isn't what I'm doing."
"That's what it looks like." Alan closed the gap between them to avoid eavesdropping ears. "I mean it, Jed. People are talking."
"About what?"
"You. From the moment you got to the State House, it's been one thing after another. How long before we all get sick of it? You're alienating your own party and pretty soon, you'll be alienating your constituents too."
"My constituents will decide if they've been alienated. They'll do so on their own next November."
"They will decide. They will, whether you're in Hanover or in Manchester, they will."
"What?" Jed looked at him curiously. Only he and Abbey knew they were planning a move to Manchester.
"When you pick up paperwork for a district other than your own, people notice."
"Yeah, so? We thought about moving to the farm next summer."
"So when you say to other farmers that the price of milk really doesn't mean a hill of beans, you think it'll sound more convincing coming from the open fields of your million-dollar farm?"
"It's a family farm. And this isn't a political move. It's a personal one."
"Hey, if you can get them to buy it..."
"Enough, Alan." Jed held up his hands to end the discussion as he moved towards the driver's door. "Abbey's waiting."
"We're not finished with this. Jed." He walked closer to him as Jed shielded his frame behind the open door.
"We are for today. You're not going to change my mind. And before you try again, why don't you look up the McPhersons and ask them what they gave their 6-year-old son to eat for breakfast on Thanksgiving morning. Chances are, it was dry cereal."
TBC